my group

The first group of students I taught in Louisville will be graduating this year. 

Two girls have contacted me and said they want to take a road trip after their graduation and visit me. 

Me?! Who would have thought little ole me would ever be a teacher that had students want to come visit 5 years later? 

I guess I kind of thought that. 

Because I didn't ever want to be a forgettable, half-way teacher. 

I wanted to be an all-in, make-a-difference teacher. 

[That's partly why I'm home now:when I do things I want to be all-in. I didn't want to be half in teaching and half in mothering. ] 

So my little 8th graders are graduating. Will they be the doctors, journalists, professional athletes they once wrote about in my class? 

I don't know. But I do know they can write a well thought out paragraph. 

And I do know they will remember me making a fool of myself many times in front of them so they would learn something. 

My first class I got to keep for two years, which I lovingly refer to as "my group of kids", will graduate in two months here. 

Two months.

Two months and then I will see these little lives I inherited as barely sophomores, most not even driving when we started together in August, walk across the stage and receive their diplomas. 

Diplomas, people! 

My group of kids, that I helped mold and shape! 

I had last year's graduating class for one year, and that was cool enough…

But this group? This is my group. That's right, I'm claiming them. 

And last month, after helping one of "my kids" with her interview/application/recommendations etc, I got this text:

It doesn't get much better.