This day kicked my butt. Could be the 17 hours it took from the 6am gym time to homework time at the kitchen table. Could be the of end-of-semester blues. I always have a mixed bag of emotions, swirling thoughts.
Every time, I can’t believe the semester is over. How does it happen so fast? Sometimes it feels like we just start getting somewhere as a class and bang, we’re done.
Regrets: What didn’t get done, who didn’t get called, who dropped out, underachieved. What was half-taught, not taught, might have been taught differently. Something I said, something I should have said. I know I did as much as I could, and then did more. Doesn’t fix it.
I track back for the successes, the laughter, the connections. Those times when we are inter-connected and thinking with each other is such a thrill. That discussion on the blockade. The debate over gender identity. When we did the macarena. Some of the essays that landed in my email. Rapt faces. Learning.
Still, it’s hard to go there. Right now the regrets are closer.
Focus on the last few days with them.