Today was the last day of teacher planning week. It’s also the six month anniversary of the events that befell my school on 2/14. It’s hard to believe that it’s been six months already. It feels like yesterday. It feels like years ago. We had a moment of silence to honor those we lost, as we enter a new school year without them. The seniors should’ve been moving into their dorms this week. The underclassmen should’ve been getting ready to start school tomorrow. The adults should’ve been sitting in the auditorium with us. It’s not right. It’s not fair. They should be with us.
Every year the entire band, along with the color guard, perform for the faculty/staff as a send-off to the new year. This year was no different, with the exception of an announcement made before they began. The principal said that anyone who wouldn’t be comfortable with the loud music was welcome to step out. I thought about leaving, but I stayed. I wish I had gone with my gut instinct. The noise from the drumline was too much. Once the band played – although they sounded amazing – it was just so loud. I began to feel anxious. I felt bad for not being able to enjoy the performance as much as I should, as much as I have in the past.
I’m not nervous to start school. I’m ready to be back in my room and meet me new kids. I’m just unsure of what a new year brings, and what the kids will be coming in carrying. The effects of 2/14 go far beyond what any of can comprehend, and will follow us for a lifetime. I’m hopeful that we can all heal and help each other. Here’s to a great 2018-2019.