I am sore. From playing on the 8th grade kickball team at their picnic. Pretty sure it is not just from running but running as fast as I could rounding third in danger of getting thrown out at home. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps all around from my enthusiastic bunch of kids when I scored.
I am exhausted. This is my third year teaching and I don't think anything is harder than the last week of school. I tried to fill my 8th graders' time with end-of-course exams and history paper deadlines but nothing could dampen their spirits for long or pull their focus off the fact that they are graduating.
I am nervous. About speaking and making announcements in front of a large crowd at graduation tomorrow night. You probably don't think a "teacher" and "introvert" go together but they do.
I am happy and sad. Because my oldest son is also graduating this weekend. I see him right in front of me but every time I blink I see him as a little kid. Blink...he's in kindergarten. Blink...he's playing soccer. Blink...he's wearing a too-big blazer to his 8th grade graduation. Blink...wasn't he just a freshman?