I’ve been a high school teacher for almost a month.

I’ve been oriented to the district, the building, my department, and some other things I’m sure I’m not remembering to mention.

I’ve been creating essential questions and thinking about goals and planning units and lessons.

I’ve been meeting every day with my students for three weeks.

I’ve been reading and grading and differentiating and grading and thinking and grading and engaging and grading and probing and grading and pushing and grading and encouraging and grading and scaffolding and grading.

I’ve been giving detention and confronting plagiarism and removing ridiculously small paper hats donned in protest.

I’ve been telling students learning is their job and not to let people interfere with their mission.  I’ve been telling students that my classroom is not a democracy.  I’ve also been telling them that it is my joy to support them and help them as they grow.

I’ve been emailing and calling parents and meeting parents at open house.

I’ve been professionally developing.

I’ve been learning and growing and challenging myself.

I’ve been exhausted.

I guess I really am a high school teacher.