Today, I am going to my classroom to start getting things organized for the start of the school year. It is not going to be easy. The beginning of the year is always stressful anyway. You have to sort through all of the randomness you shoved into cabinets a few months ago. You have to figure out what you want to do the same and what you might want to change. You have to decide what you might need from Target or the teacher's store to get the room re-organized and to set up a new group of students. Every year, I spend anywhere from $300 to $500 in set up costs. New folders. New pencils. New desk labels and cubby organizers. But, before I get the joy of shopping, I have to go through the tediousness of sorting.
Normally, the first few days setting up a classroom result in a bigger and bigger mess before it starts to resemble anything of any sort of order. It's always a little harried and hectic. This year, it will be ten fold. Because this year, I have to do it while carrying my grief on my back. This year, I will hang pocket charts and cover bulletin boards with a piece of my heart missing.
I am fully aware of how much of myself is available to the world. Some of me is missing and the rest of me is wrapped up in holding myself together. Can I do this? Can I organize a classroom? Can I still teach effectively? Can I give the amount of focus necessary to do my job? I hope so. I know I will try my very best.
I am nervous about what today will bring. I am worried I will start pulling out posters and books and just fall apart. I am worried I won't be able to focus on the decisions I have to make. I suppose I just have to get in there, roll up my sleeves, and tackle it the way I have tackled everything else lately. Head on and with a positive attitude. So, here I go. Diving back into the life I had before loss. I just hope the water is still warm, and I don't drown.