I didn't quite expect the unexpected...

I've been pondering this particular post for a week now, trying to determine exactly how to put into words something that seems so far beyond them.

The school I taught at for a year and a half started their spring semester last Monday. It was already going to be a somewhat emotional day for me. I miss my students. I miss my team. I miss how familiar the building felt when I walked through it. I didn't know I was going to be so upset with myself for not being there last Monday.

Living in the U.S., it has become nearly commonplace to have a threat aimed at a school. It is a tragic situation that we as parents, students, educators, and members of communities are fully aware of each and every day. Last Monday, a threat was posed to this school that is so close to my heart. And I wasn't there. Several of my students reached out to me. And I wasn't there. Oh, I answered them as soon as I was able to, but it wasn't me walking them out of the building for the evacuation. It wasn't me staying with them while they waited for news and for their parents to come and pick them up for the day. It wasn't me telling them everything would be okay. And it honestly shocked me how badly that hurt.

You'll hear a lot of educators talk about how much they love their students, and to some extent, I think a lot of people take it as lip service. It isn't, not for me. I love those kids. A thousand jokes, hundreds of moments watching their eyes light in understanding when they finally get a concept they struggled with, celebrating their accomplishments and listening to their struggles. Offering advice when they needed it, an ear otherwise, but generally just being able to be a part of their growing and learning experience has been so meaningful, so rewarding. Considering going back into teaching once we've settled in California in a few weeks is nerve wracking. What if I teach again and I'm not as invested in them as I was with my Jaguars? Believe me when I tell you, loving those kids wasn't lip service on my part.

To all of my students, I know last Monday was a crap way to start a new semester. I know you were probably scared. I know how it feels to be a student in a school that is being threatened like yours was. And I know you no longer see me in the building, that you can't stop by my room whenever you need support. (And let me just say how grateful and humbled I am to have been someone that any of you would turn to in good times or bad.) But I am here. I haven't forgotten you, and I know that each of you can build this semester into something good. I hope this week is better than the last, and that next week is better than this one. To my seniors, I haven't and won't forget that I promised to watch you walk in May.

Keep your heads up, Jags. - Mrs. Lynch