Image by Xandra Iryna Rodríguez from Pixabay

The other day at work I was making copies when my principal asked if she could jump in. I said sure, and she joked about not having her own copy code after three years at the school. Four must be the magic number then, I replied, because I’d only received mine this year. And that’s when it hit me—I’ve been there four years.

The period between 2019 and now will never not feel like a time warp; I’m convinced an entire year disappeared there somewhere. And yet the summer I began my job as a preschool aide feels like another lifetime. I loved that job dearly; I knew within months I wanted to become a teacher and swiftly enrolled in a post-baccalaureate program. 

During my studies, I remained working at the small neighborhood elementary school that felt so much like home. When a teaching position opened last year (in preschool!) I was thrilled to take it on and come full circle. But throughout it all I’d always felt a pull toward middle school as well. 

Choosing which route to follow had initially been a struggle for me—teaching pre-literacy and foundational skills to our smallest learners, or teaching English language arts to preteens? Yet part of the beauty of teaching is that you don’t really have to choose beyond a year or two, and I think I always knew I’d end up trying both. 

So in January, with my principal’s blessing, I applied for an in-district transfer, and I’m happy to say I got the job! Next year I’ll be teaching English at the same middle school my children attended. I’ll miss the easy affection and innocent joy of my preschoolers, but I’m looking forward to the wild energy of 6th grade.

Now, off to plan my novel studies…