After an unexpectedly great 2020 summer, my return to teaching left me sitting on the concrete steps on my porch gazing at the fluffy coastal clouds drift by while pondering: What type of man will I be upon my return to the classroom? Have I done things this summer to put myself in a position to flourish? Will I return as a man ready for growth in this new virtual contextc? Will I be able to adapt to the situations thrown my way and provide strength to undergird others around me?
The summer exists like an image of a passed gas station on a single lane highway in the rear view mirror of my mind. It’s behind me. Unexpectedly, the summer filled my family’s tank with laughs, art, and games. I dreamed, like a child, it would never come to an end.
As a family, we did over 100 different activities together bringing family camp from the mountains, as we had done one year prior, to the city. When the misused and abused world brought on us limits we’ve never seen before, we decided to live beyond limits. Through imagination and hardheadedness we made the summer of 2020 one of the best summers of our lives.
Yet, as a teacher, a time to return, as always, has returned. We’ve been here before — school year here, school year gone — summer present, summer passed. It’s time to return to the teaching life. I’m not rushing time because it speeds along life’s road well enough without my pushing, but soon enough it’ll be time to take a break from it. A time to return always returns. Though far away at the present moment, summer will knock on my door once again. It’ll be like soon and very soon like the old gospel song goes.
The feelings upon my return to teaching are similar to those from past returns. I long to return to the teaching life and at the same I desire to stay on summer break with my family.
Solutions for my questions will only arrive with the passing of days. My oh my, have the days slid down time’s track without regard to my interests in slowing its pace. So upon my return to teaching, oddly enough, the days pass with the swiftness of a cheetah in open lands chasing its prey and summer will return only to function as fertilizer for the return of yet another school year.
Times of return shall march on.