Time flies, except when it doesn't.
Like when the weekend, spent at a math competition at a suburban high school connecting with my most enthusiastic math-learners, has suddenly arrived at noon on Sunday, which means the day is half over, which means Monday is almost here.
Or when time seems to freeze when you get called to the principal's office in the middle of teaching because one of your students straight up left school during the transition from lunch to recess and he (the principal) tells you that sorry, he has to write you up, nbd, but you should really be more vigilant from now on.* But that was Thursday, and it seems like a month ago.
We start state standardized testing on Tuesday. Where my babies are subjected to a series to test designed to let (mostly) white, middle-class students succeed while poor students fail. I can't believe it's almost May. Even though school weeks seem to drag on, especially during school hours when I try to tell myself to breathe and not look mad so I can just get through the lesson and thus the rest of the day, on the whole the year seems to have flown by, probably because I'm doing my best to block out the most painful parts. I remember the times that were especially difficult, but I don't really. It's more like I know they were there, but I can only see them out of the corner of my eye, never fully in focus, never fully realized.
TFA will no doubt tell me to reflect on this whole year, but how can you reflect on the things you barely remember anymore? (I am in way no using this deep, profound blog post to avoid lesson planning.)
*Don't worry, the kid was fine, he just walked home and his neighbor called the school to tell us they found him.
