In a few hours, I will stand in front of my two classes for the last time.
I’ll be giving instructions and wrapping things up before giving them their final exam. There will be 38 of them. I started with 40, but lost two. They both haven’t been to my class in months, but I still think about them.
In a few hours, I would have finished teaching two college classes.
And still, every time I walk into the classroom, it feels like it did on the first day. I still get nervous. I still feel unsure of myself. I still wonder how in the hell I got here. But I didn’t just get here, I made it here. I worked hard to make it here, and I’m proud of that.
In a few hours, my students will finish their first college composition class.
I am so happy for my students. Most of them were brilliant, creative, conscientious, hardworking, and a pleasure to have in my class. But for once, this class isn’t just about them. For once, it’s going to be about me too. It’s okay to be happy for me too.
I’m going to savor what 6.5 years of college, several months of planning, more months of teaching, and a couple of late nights this semester can bring me. I’m going to look around that classroom, and probably still feel my heart race and my breath quicken when I see all those eyes looking back at me, but behind all that anxiousness, I know I’m going to feel the biggest sense of accomplishment that I have ever had.
Today. This moment. It’s mine.
