sjsprWriting

14 more days.

14 more days of blue shirts, of writing prompts, of tall teenagers (because most of my students are small 9th graders), of Tatiana on her phone (and me pretending not to notice), of the circle that is created and broken down at the end of each class.

a couple more weeks of blog posts, and mature conversations, and hearing AP bouncing off the walls next door, and Marcel's "Missy", and Richard's saints.

not too much longer and I'll have an extra prep and I'll pretend I'll get more done.

There's something that switches in Seniors in these last weeks. There's a senioritis still there, but it's drenched with a nostalgia, like an understanding that these are the last days, like they realize they need to remember these-what-once-were annoying routines but might soon become memoires they wish were in their lives again.

Because sometimes when you're in the moment of dull monotony and you're counting the days until it's over, and looking desperatly for something fresh and new, you don't know the impact those monotonous moments have on you.

I once read that when you move away from something you have, you feel the sadness of leaving your friends and your comforts behind. But you also feel a sadness about the *you* that you are before the move and you know you might miss the *you* that you were in that moment.

That might be true.