"From the second law of thermodynamics to Darwinian evolution, from Buddhism's insistence that nothing is permanent all suffering results from our delusions of permanence to the third chapter of Ecclesiastes ("To everything there is a season..."), change is a part of life, of existence, of the common wisdom" (Butler 27).
With these words, and some exciting changes in our family in the year ahead, I'm inspired to look back on my first SOLC posts.
On March 19, 2010, I posted "Day 19":
"My student-teacher has been out sick almost all week, so maybe I'm paying for all that gloating I did in an earlier slice. Still, I found that while it's nice to share responsibility with another adult in the room, I found it to be quite invigorating to have my students all to myself. That's really one of the best parts of being a teacher.
I'm not stuffed in a cubicle, listening to the drone of my co-workers' telephone calls or the clicking of their keyboards, and it's better than a corner office--I've heard it's lonely up there at the top. Me? I've got an entire room that seats 28, a couple of computers, whiteboards, loads of books, two (that's right, two) trashcans, and even windows--but not only that, I get to greet about 125 interesting people five days a week who come into my class and listen to me and my ideas. Plus, I get to listen to them and their ideas, and at eleven or twelve years old, that makes for some very entertaining listening. Whoever says teachers are in it for summers off can come talk to me.
Now it's Friday, and unless my young apprentice has jumped ship (which is highly unlikely, since she appeared to be having a grand time until she turned green), I'll pass the baton, once again, back to her. I can share my posh space with her, and we can compare notes again about how best to reach our writers. But at least I know for sure that when she heads out into the wider world of education in May, I'll take my class back with an eager heart."
On March 19, 2026, some things have changed:
My trailer classroom lacks the glamor of my room with the capacity for 28 and multiple trash cans, but I haven't fled for a cubicle or a corner office. I still have loads of books and a few whiteboards, but the spare computer from those middle school days has been replaced with personal laptops for every single kid. The stereotypical office sounds of clicking keyboards and telephone calls are more "back in my day," thanks to Teams and Zoom. But I still host about a hundred folks in and out of my room--never lonely.
In the month I wrote my first slice, my oldest son was just upstairs in the seventh grade. Now he's 28 and preparing for a summer wedding. My middle son was in elementary school--his bus dropped him off just a block from my school exit. Now, he's a college junior in Richmond. Then, my youngest was just a second-trimester twinkle in my eye. Now, he's in my English class. Indeed, the 11-year-old sixth graders I was delighted to learn from have been replaced with 15-year-old sophomores, one of whom is mine.
Darwin and Buddha weren't messing around when they said change is our universal truth. Also, some things remain the same.
Loved catching up on all your changes (congrats on your oldest’s summer wedding) and what remains a constant- your wondrous knack with words.
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