In many ways, the first day of September 2021 looked a lot like the first day of September 2020 for me. The first day of my school year has fallen on the first of September both years, and so on both September firsts I sat down at my computer and spent the day starting to get to know my students. I introduced myself and my family and my dog. I told them what they can expect from me as their English teacher this year and what I expect from them as my ninth-grade students. They took their Star reading test, which I hate but must give regardless. And, naturally, I wore my favorite red lipstick to match my slide deck, because I am nothing if not consistent in my personal brand.
But by the sheer fact that this year's first day of school looked like last year's first day of school, it felt completely different. Last year at this time, I didn't know what I was getting myself into. I didn't know what I would think of teaching for a virtual school, or whether I would like teaching ninth grade when I so hated teaching eighth, if I would ever learn the quirks of the many different programs I had to use, or how long I would last. Those concerns have since fallen away, and for the first time in my adult life, I am doing the same thing two years in a row. Same apartment, same school, same classes to teach (and, blissfully, no more classes to take).
As I'd hoped, finishing grad school and sticking with the same job for a second year has lightened my workload, which, in theory, should have also given me plenty of extra time as well. Time, however, demands to be filled. Something must be done in the seconds and minutes and hours that make up our fleeting days.
So I send more emails and create beautiful supplemental resources that maybe 45% of my students will use and tweak old PowerPoints and plan new assignments that I will eventually have to grade, which will further fill my time. In the evenings, I cook and walk the dog and read and spend entirely too much time scrolling. And occasionally, I try to make something: a memory, a poem, something that will outlast the night.
Here's what I read, cooked, and created in the month of September.
What I Read
If You Only Knew: My Unlikely, Unavoidable Story of Becoming Free, Jamie Ivey (★★★)
Atonement, Ian McEwan (★★★★)
Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life, Tish Harrison Warren (★★★★★)
Out of Many, One: Portraits of America's Immigrants, George W. Bush (★★★★★)
Grown, Tiffany D. Jackson (★★★★)
Dear Martin, Nic Stone (★)
If you want to hear the rationale behind my rating, head to my Goodreads for full reviews.
What I Cooked
It seems as though the vast majority of my meatless meals end up being pasta, which is probably bad for me, but I don't care. This one seemed good, easy, and cheap, and it was indeed all three. I definitely could have made only a half recipe, but I anticipate that I will want to make this again (even though my husband doesn't like artichokes as much as I do).
What I Created
Original poem "September Haze"
Blackout poem "Tree of Life"
A lot of an original short story so I could commiserate with my ninth graders
We started a new unit today in English 9, and I even planned a brand-new lesson for it––a challenge for myself to refuse to let sameness become staleness and to continue making new things, whether they be lesson plans, poems, pots of pasta, or the small changes that keep life interesting.