I am thinking about my first year
I taught second-grade
in an old school building that looked like it was from a picture book
On the morning of the first day,
I straightened pencil boxes
one more time
on the desks I had placed precisely
I took a picture of the busses lined up outside, right before the kids got off
I knew so little about second-grade
Didn’t know what I
didn’t know about
teaching,
kids,
instructional strategies. . .
the paper cutter
(That year, I would go on to cut my own shirt more than one time on the paper cutter)
I wish I remembered how I learned their names
What books we read
The moment I realized they were
mine.
Maybe it was
when I typed their names on my first
class list
when the last student filed in and we had our first morning meeting
the first time I said “my class,” to explain
“I didn’t do that with my class yet.”
“My class had extra recess.”
“Oh, you know my class!”
But sometime after I got the call that I had a job
and months before I sobbed on the last day of school,
those were
my
second-graders
I know, I know
in a school – they are
all
Our
kids
I know this – I have hundreds of kids in my schools that are
Ours
and I love them
And, when you share a classroom with kids
every day,
know what math they are ready for next,
which kids to put in which small group,
who needs extra reminders or reassurances, or a special whiteboard marker
what book to hand them from your library
what they did over the weekend,
their hopes and dreams
and trials
it’s okay if you think
my
kids
My first year
my kids
were
chatty, sure –
(I’d soon find out that most of my classes were chatty – the one constant being me. . . )
my kids were
funny
sweet
hard-working
good sports —
watching me fumble through
my
first year
On a Thought 
I guess you never do forget your first year and how different teaching felt back then! You’ve put the feelings together so well with your words.
I couldn’t even choose a favorite line…they were all so insightful and heart-warming. I may have to steal this topic and write about my first year, too. The best part of this poem is that it reveals the depth of how a teacher comes to care about her students. More people should realize this. Well done!
I used to love that feeling of “my class”. I am now a school counselor but what you described had me smiling and thinking about my first class and my last class.
I forgot your first year was with second graders – so was mine! My first year is more of a blur than yours, but reading your post helped bring back some of those memories! Thanks for sharing.