When September Ends

I said I wasn't going to be sad - and I'm not, really. Maybe it's because, at this point, I'm more fatigued than dismal that this life changing experience is coming to an end. At least, it was life changing for me. That could be because of when this season has happened, relatively early in my life and (relatively) early in my teaching career. I feel as though I have aged 10 years - not only in experiences, but in the physical toll that traveling alone, nonstop for a year has on your body. Never underestimate how difficult it is to drive, often in inclement weather, listening carefully to your GPS and trusting it to not take you over-the-river-and-through the-woods, stay alert for hours on end, with one eye on the road and another on the clock, hoping you'll get where ever you're going in time - or before dark. My back and stomach both feel like they have been crunched tightly in a fist since January.

This is what my odometer read at the beginning of August.

I'm not going to be sad. It was everything it was meant to be for me, and it's time to move on. My mental and physical capacity for having two full time jobs has reached its limit. After a year, it's time for a release of having somewhere to be, something to say, or someone to write for - at least on a tightly scheduled basis.

My lone speaking engagement this month was addressing the West Virginia Association of Retired School Employees at their annual meeting in Braxton County. It was also my last speaking engagement as the current teacher of the year until October 8th, when I address the state school board and give my farewell speech (is it really a farewell speech? Maybe reflection speech would be a better name for it). Regardless, I enjoyed speaking to those who have given a lifetime of service to education in West Virginia and have the opportunity to now advocate for our teachers and students from another perspective.

Nicolas County WVARSE members

One of the last one room school teachers from Tucker County.

That's not to say I wasn't busy. I have made four trips to Charleston since this school year began. Some were for selecting the next teacher of the year, others were for committees that I have been appointed to as a result of my title. Which is why, I guess October 8th really isn't as much a farewell as it is a "reboot." That's also what I have spent much of this past month pondering, in between lesson plans, calling substitutes, and grading papers - what happens next?

Marshall University Graduate School in Charleston

I've also started working on one thing I plan to pursue after October 8th. I am writing and illustrating a children's book about my year, with the main character none other than your favorite West Virginia state symbol. This is uncharted territory for me, but I figure Berkeley's blog is a good start for a story line - and I certainly have the pictures to inspire my illustrations. I have been doing a lot of research on how to get started with a children't book (among other things) - just wondering at this point if I can tell Berkeley's adventures in just 32 pages.

Those post-it notes are the beginning of Berkeley's book.

I also received this in the mail last week. It brought back all the excitement of that day, which was a much needed pick-me-up in the midst of mounting stress.

With President Obama in the Blue Room of the White House, May 1, 2014

Cecelia Mason's article on my year also was published  in Shepherd University's Alumni magazine. You can read the story at this link. What is it like to go to your mailbox and, in the midst of advertisements and bills, see yourself staring back at you? At this point, it's just another day in the life...

Thank you, Cecelia, for another beautiful article about my year.

This upcoming week, I am traveling to Princeton, New Jersey, for the final convening of our 2014 class of state teachers of the year. I'm looking forward to it (after I write yet another set of substitute lesson plans), not only to see the teachers that understand what this year has been all about, but because I need some direction as to what to do next.

The time out of the classroom is stretching me thin - remember I write this blog not only to document my year, but to give insight as to what this experience is all about, not just the recognition and glory, but the wear and tear. I feel (and have felt) incredibly guilty when I have to leave my classroom in someone else's care. Once I get to my destination, I turn off the guilt and focus on what I need to say and do, because I represent every teacher in West Virginia. Then, I make the trek home, exhausted, only to get up the next morning and give what I have left to my students.

Although I've been in and out, my 5th graders already know me well.

The pressure is immense. So is the reward.

Which is why, here at the very end as the season changes to fall, coming full circle from last year, it's difficult to not be just a little sad.

Rewind Wednesday, Part 2: Last August 2nd

Okay, fast forward. Went through security and up the stairs.

It was really quiet except for my heart pounding so heavily it had to be audible. I was 15 minutes early. Good. Some time to sit peacefully and get a hold of myself. I sat down and looked into the deep, dark depths of my purse for a mirror to assess my crazy hair day situation.

It wasn't three minutes later I heard "Oh, good, she's already here."

I never found the mirror. Instead I found myself trying to listen carefully to what was being said to me over my heartbeat pulsating in my ears. I stood back up, and I don't know why it didn't bother me earlier that morning, but all the fluid and bruising in my achy-breaky legs just went woosh down to my toes. My legs felt like water balloons as I went through the door with a big smile on my face and my hand outstretched.

They all seemed so tall. And I seemed really young and short.

Meet the Press. Sit up. Smile. Look at them! Don't act like you usually do.  The enormity of it all overwhelmed me. How on Earth had I ended up here? Listen to the questions. I felt like the walls were closing in, inch by inch.

It didn't take long, and then I cracked. Between going through my don't list over and over and debating whether to not to wear my glasses after all (they ended up on the floor after I knocked them off the table), I cracked. I was not going to maintain my composure. In an instant, I was sure that I had ruined everything I had convinced myself wasn't even possible.

Well, what do you do when your in a situation like that? It wasn't like I could get up and leave. So, the only split second option I had was to just be myself. After all, how many people would ever make it as far as that little room? Time to just let it go and forget all the things on the don't list.

I was too emotional. Too silly. And dramatic. Meet the Press had effectively become Oprah's couch. I was just Erin, 5th grade teacher, not pulled together teacher-leader. I'll never see them again, I thought. What difference does it make? I'll just be me, there's nothing to lose now.

My leg really hurt.

And that's how it went for thirty-or-so minutes. I didn't just wear my heart on my sleeve; I added glitter to make it stand out.

Then it was time to give my speech. Now, people dear to me had invested their time in listening to me speak, encouraging me to be confident. In my mind I had now disappointed them more than humanly possible. I owed them all to give it my best on that speech, even if I had blown it. And so I did. I spoke from my heart, where every word had come from, because that's what every person I represented deserved.

It's a little strange giving a big speech to a small group of people. Or maybe I took the assignment completely out of context.

No sooner than it began I was out the door. Embarrassed. Ashamed of myself. I filled out paperwork and quickly was escorted to the main entrance and into the sunshine.

I called Brad. He was already there in the parking lot. I could see him. But I wasn't moving.

"Do you see me? Just walk this way."

I still wasn't moving.

He ended up getting out of the car. Again. All I could muster after spilling my heart out for 45 minutes was a barely audible "It's over."

And then I got in the car.

"I can't believe it! I did everything I shouldn't have done! It was horrible. It's over. It was never going to happen anyway. That's it. That's it?! Why did I say that? It's over. I'm so embarrassed. It is so over."

I said that all the way home. Over and over. For about 4 and-a-half hours. It's a wonder that he didn't make me get out and walk home. Stopping the car first would have been a plus.

***
A month later, I was in the throws of a new school year. I had effectively blocked any thought of my interview or speech unless asked, then I had my "It just wasn't meant to be" line all ready to go. I got a letter in the mail congratulating me and advising to have some remarks prepared in case I was the teacher of the year.

I almost threw it away. Then I thought better and just tossed it in a pile of random papers on my desk.

Two days later, I was chilling on the couch after school. Great day, but a long, tiring one. It was going to be a good year. I whipped out my phone and engrossed myself in a round of Angry Birds.

I was so intent on using the white "egg" bird that NEVER drops the egg in the right spot I didn't hear Brad come in the room.

"Did you get a letter?"

"About what?"

"Don't you need to write a speech?"

I made a face. Nosey. "I don't need to write any more speeches. It's over. There's no way. Don't look at my mail." I went back to bombing the ugly green piggies on Angry Birds.

"I think you better write a speech."

"I love you too, but I know when it's not going to be me. Stop bothering me and don't look at my mail."

"I think you need to get ready for October 9th."

Mr. Persistent. Humph. There's no way. It's over.

And then, I got a feeling. The feeling you get when someone is possibly hiding something from you. When you're the last to know. What if...

I let the black bomb bird disintegrate into the virtual sky and went to go dig up that letter.

***

Well, we all know how this story ended. You just never knew how it started.

I'm asked a lot about what makes me the teacher of the year. Eleven months in and I still don't have the answer people are looking for.

It's not about being all pulled together. Or having all the right answers. Or how many committees or student teachers you've served.

As I said in part one, we aren't always kind to ourselves in this profession. So much is expected, and we often feel we come up short. We not only want to feel empowered, but know that others see our potential, too.

We're all looking for someone just like us.

I'm proof that broken, flawed people with purpose and determination can be leaders, speakers, and amazingly enough, role models. Sometimes your purpose is revealed to you in ways you would never anticipate.

Be different. Be the difference.

But most importantly, be yourself.

Rewind Wednesday, Part 1: Last August 2nd

I haven't done a Rewind Wednesday for a while. I'm giving myself an hour to type this, then I have to get some rest before I spend the day at school tomorrow and then drive four and-a-half hours.

But what I have to say is important - to someone, hopefully. If not, it's just an important reflection to me about how this journey began.

***

I didn't even hear my cell phone ring. I was asleep, in the kitchen, with my forehead resting on the island. I had come home from Germany three days earlier and was still incredibly jet lagged. A few minutes later I drowsily checked my voicemail, not even lifting my head up. I think I dreamed a phone was ringing.

When I heard the message, I went from half asleep to almost falling off the kitchen stool.

I was being contacted to schedule an interview for the 2014 West Virginia Teacher of the Year. I scribbled down a call back number and a date on a piece of paper clinging to the refrigerator, and cleared my throat. Then I started pacing. I paced as I called to schedule my interview. I paced the house as I sent texts to what I hope were people in my contact list but maybe some random people that accidentally got added (but sent nice texts back anyway). I paced the house for probably an hour and-a-half, until my leg started aching.

I tripped getting on a train in Frankfurt two weeks earlier. In an instant I was between the stairs of a train and the train platform. While the teachers who were with me lifted me up and got me onto the train safely, I badly bruised and busted my right leg so much that within 24 hours I was in Heidelberg University Hospital emergency room because I could no longer put weight on it. I managed to make it through the remainder of the trip with a wrap and some mega-antibiotics, but still wasn't the most graceful creature on two legs (I'm still not).

In one week I was going to have an interview to represent the education profession in West Virginia, and I could barely walk - or recount what time zone I was in.

While my friends and colleagues sent their good vibes, I felt less and less confident each day as I wrapped my head around it all. I knew it was possible - but I didn't think it would really happen. This has gotten out of hand, I thought to myself. This is too big, too much for me. I'm a terrible speaker. I do weird, blinky things with my eyes when I talk. My eye contact is horrendous. I'm too silly and emotional (the side effects of being in the fifth grade for so long). I look like a fifth grader. 

(Keep in mind, through a lot of practice and YouTube videos on public speaking, I have conquered my public speaking quirks. I'm not as bad as I thought I was, but at this moment in my life I felt incredibly insufficient.)
 
I read something recently, how we shouldn't treat ourselves any worse than we would our best friend. As teachers, often we are our worst critics. It's safe to say at this point last late July I wasn't being a very good friend to myself. If it's possible to bully yourself, I was doing it.

I went through the next week pacing the house (in between elevating my leg), Googling everything about any and all education issues in existence (and making note cards - I don't know why, but for some reason, I went on an index card kick for six days, and I never use index cards). I wrote a speech. I practiced my speech. I timed my speech. I made other people listen to my speech. Other people, namely the administrators at the Berkeley County Leadership Academy, listened to my speech to give me an audience. They didn't have to do that, but they did. The support and confidence I received from my Berkeley County school family was uplifting beyond anything I could possibly deserve. I reviewed my "don't" list:

Don't cross your legs over and over. Don't cry, even if you're nervous. Don't take your glasses on and off. Don't freak out and make a fool of yourself and Berkeley County. Don't be silly. Pretend it's "Meet the Press." Act like the accomplished teacher you are instead of a scared kid on the first day of school.

I was so nervous my husband drove me to Charleston, taking a day and-a-half from work, because I would have driven off the road at that point - or turned around and gone home. I shuffled my index card collection and listened to myself say my speech on my phone (I recorded it over and over, because I wanted to make sure I enunciated everything correctly) the entire four and-a-half hour drive. You can only imagine what great company I was to have in that car.

Eventually, I went to sleep that night. I think I wore myself out with my antics. The next morning when I woke up, my eyes were itchy and swollen - probably from lack of sleep and the detergent in the hotel blankets. I was having a crazy hair day that no flat iron could tame (thank you summer humidity). And I didn't like my outfit. It was black. A black suit. My mother said it looked nice and professional. I read that you should wear dark, solid colors to an interview. Only problem was that I didn't own any dark, solid colors - but I do have a lot of pink, red, and purple. So I found a suit, a nice, black suit, to wear for my interview - on a 90 degree day in August. I was going to roast in that nice, black suit - and pantyhose. Who in their right mind invented pantyhose?

I got dressed and ate part of a muffin that Brad brought up for me to eat. Somehow I got out of that room and into the car. Brad drove me to the Capitol Complex. I knew I had to go in Building 7 - where's Building 7? A very polite officer showed me from the car where to go.

Brad pointed and said, "See, it's right there. I'm going to let you out here so I don't have to feed a meter."

"Walk me to the door."

"It's right there. I have on my running shorts (which, side note, are hideously short). You'll be great."

I get out of the car and stand. The door is hanging open, but I knew if closed it he'd be off.

"Walk me to the door."

So Brad, in his runner garb, parked the car, fed the meter, and walked me, in my black suit and Payless heels (that I now have in every color because they are the only heels I can walk in), escorted me to Building 7. It was like crossing the Sahara Desert.

I got to the door. I had to open the door to go through security. This was really going to happen. I felt like all of my surroundings were melting away.

I stood there at the door. I've been to some large cities with skyscrapers, but in that moment that was the tallest, most foreboding structure I'd ever seen in my life. Suddenly, I realized Brad was gone. I head "Good luck," but he was high tailing it across the parking lot before I could respond (smooth move in hindsight).

I had no choice but to go inside, because I wasn't going to stand outside in my hot, black suit for an hour. I felt like I was about to enter an unknown world - and I was, just not in a way that I ever could imagine it.

I'm going to have to finish this story sometime tomorrow. It won't be Wednesday, but it will be worth it.

The August Rush

Back to school.

No sooner than I had neatly folded my flight suit from Space Camp (neatly folded for me, anyway) it was time to face the next task at hand: set up and prepare my classroom, as well as continue to drive, write speeches, and attend my scheduled events - in no particular order. For real. I had been working on getting my room back in order all summer, but there are always things that have to wait to be completed until August. I have been randomly going into my room to finish a bulletin board, drag in a new (purple!) bookcase from the yard sale down the street, and place books, name tags, and school cones on my students' desks. So my life hasn't been much different than any other teacher's in West Virginia for the past few weeks - with just a few minor exceptions.

Before I tell you about the events that have been stuffed in between the meetings and paperwork of a new school year, let's step into my classroom. Getting back into almost normal mode, being with kids all day, has been much needed oxygen. Tomahawk is my second home, and I must say, it's good to be home. My little piece of Utopia right before you get to the Morgan County line gives me some routine and normalcy that has been absent in my life for the last 11 months.

Welcome to 5th grade! 

The students that made this quilt for math are
graduating from high school this year.

Spo-nomics, our classroom economy.

The Schultutten is a school cone that children in Germany
receive on their first day of school from their families. 

Now back to (my) reality.

The beginning of the month (August 1st, actually) had me back in Charleston to serve on committee for professional teaching standards. I've lost count how many times I have made the trip across the state and have memorized how many miles it is on each Interstate (8.8 on I-81, 22 on I-70, 112 on I-68, 148 on I-79, and about a mile on 1-77. Yes, that is five Interstate changes.). Last August 2nd, I was being interviewed as a finalist in Charleston, in the same building. This time last year seems like a lifetime ago. It is both humbling and mind blowing how much has changed in my life since last August 2nd - and how little I expected to happen when I walked out of those doors of the Capitol Complex. More on that in another post.

The beautiful gold dome of the WV Capitol

The following week began with a dedication of the new Hedgesville Public Library. This serves the students in the area where I teach, and it was...wait for it...FUN to be close to home for an event and facility that serves students in my school district. Seriously, I had tremendous joy to see familiar faces of former students, parents, and community members that I hadn't seen much of over the last year.

I donated a copy of The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman,
a book I always read to begin the year and kick off our classroom
Scrabble team.

The puppet theater is the Eagle Scout project of a former Tomahawk student.

 You can view my speech at the library at this link, because Blogger is being contrary and won't let me embed it.

The next day I attended the Berkeley County Chamber of Commerce Breakfast for the new teachers in our county. It was exciting to see some of the beginning teachers I had spoken to, as well as some that I met at the colleges where I presented at over the past year. From Martinsburg I hopped (no, I drove, no hopping for me) to Wildwood Middle School in Jefferson County to speak to their teachers on their opening day.

The amazing murals inside Wildwood Middle School.

And Wednesday...that was my opening day, and evening orientation to meet my new students and parents for the year. If I were a car, I would have two gears: teacher of the year, and Mrs. Sponaugle. So I geared into Mrs. Sponaugle mode for the rest of that week and into the next, getting to know my class, collecting paperwork, and learning a new schedule. And getting reacquainted with colleagues I haven't seen much of over the past few months.

By Friday of the following week, it back to teacher of the year mode. I drove up to Morgantown Thursday evening after school and got into my hotel room just in time to log into Twitter and lead a WV edchat on teacher leadership. The next morning I spoke to teacher education students from across the state at the inaugural Pre-service Teacher Workshop of the West Virginia Higher Education Policy Commission. Video of the event will soon be available on their website.

Cheat Lake

With student from WVU at Parkersburg

More WVU at Parkersburg students

Ohio Valley University students

Next week it was back to school, to gear into Mrs. Sponaugle mode - for two days. Wednesday I attended the bi-monthly board meeting of the Education Alliance at the Greenbrier during their annual Business Summit, then headed from there to Charleston to begin the process of starting another teacher on this incredible journey.

The Greenbrier...and Berkeley

Inside the Greenbrier

Inside the annual report of The Education Alliance. That is a
very big picture. It's even bigger when you aren't expecting to
come across it.

Then I landed head first into a pillow (well no, I taught Friday), then I landed head first into a pillow to begin this three day weekend with a little rest. Next week I make a trip to Flatwoods and a trip to Charleston. The odometer on my Prius will surpass 12,000 by this time next week. If that sounds crazy, it's because it is. It is staggeringly hard to maintain it all, and have a semi-clean house. And eat right. And exercise. And make sense when someone asks me a question (as in, be in the right gear, teacher of the year or Mrs. Sponaugle, because sometimes my mind hasn't caught up with there I'm at). There have been 178274935 tabs open on my mental browser since last October 9th. I think I just added seven.

But I haven't and won't complain(ed). So much good, so much joy, so much hope for the future and for future opportunities has shown itself to me and others because of this experience. It's almost (well, it is) too much good, too much joy, too much opportunity, for one person. Yet, even though it has seemed like this day would never come back in the insanity of March and April, this chapter of my life is coming to a close. Things are winding down. There's still more to come, but within a different context. I'm hoping to take the month of September to reflect on some of the behind-the-scenes experiences that have brought me to this point and on what's to come.

Stay tuned.

International Space Camp, Part 4: One Last Orbit, Graduation, and Back to Earth

I'll admit it. I was a little sad to see it end.

Space Camp was an incredible week of learning, experiences, and teacher fellowship. There is no other experience I would have liked to have closed out my summer representing education in West Virginia. Our last day in Huntsville included some free time to visit the grounds of the Rocket Park and the Davidson Center. I had made short trips to these all week, but it was nice to go back and see it all one more time. I wish I could share every picture I took with you...but here's the highlight reel.

First, let's visit the Rocket Park one more time...

I know...but you haven't seen it from this angle yet!

Centaur G-Prime designed to be carried on the
space shuttle but was nixed after the Challenger disaster

Info on the Centaur

Another view of the Saturn IV replica

Skylab replica

Where's Berkeley?

View of the lunar module, Saturn IV, and Rockets

Now let's go back in the Davidson Center...oh wait! There were some exhibits in the building where they have the shuttle and lunar simulators, better go check those out while there's still the chance!

A space shuttle tire

The capsule that held Miss Baker and Abel

Berkeley in the Manned Maneuvering Unit

Okay, this was in the gift shop, but it's a space
shuttle made out of KNEX. I love KNEX and Legos,
so I had to take a picture of it.

Later that day, we heard from another astronaut, Bob Springer, who recounted his missions on the Space Shuttle. Dan Oates also shared with us the SCIVIS program (Space Camp for Interested Visually Impaired Students). All of the components of the shuttle simulator and mission control can be modified so that blind and low vision students can participate in the same experiences as other students. There are even Braille panels that cover the inside of the orbiter simulator so they can "fly" the shuttle as well.

Bob Springer

Weightless Flights

Liquid Salt and Pepper in Space

Team Destiny with Bob Springer

By this point, we were all a little tired and sad to leave each other, but it was time for graduation. This is where we received our wings walked across the stage with our team. A special addition to our ceremony was each of the teachers receiving a 300,000 Hours Unmanned Aircraft Systems coin from the U.S. Army Redstone Arsenal as recognition for our year of service.

Dorm mates suited up for graduation

It's time to graduate...but first, let's take a selfie :-D
Photo by Ryan Devlin, Pennsylvania TOY

Being introduced

Coin and wings

Team Destiny after graduation

With a few hours of daylight left, I went back to the Davidson Center to walk the length of Saturn IV once more and look at the exhibits one last time. Some of these pictures I took earlier in the week.

An actual Quarantine Airstream used by the Apollo astronauts

Inside the Airstream

Sleeping quarters

A peek inside

A replica of the inside of Skylab

Water filtration unit (I think)

Apollo Lunar Module

Not a great picture, but this is the computer or "brain" of the Saturn IV 

Where's Berkeley?

Didn't you know astronauts wore flip-flops
in the lunar capsule? (Just kidding)

And like that, it was mission complete and back down to earth. After squeezing all our mementos and memories into our suitcases, we enjoyed each other's company the rest of the evening until it was time to get some rest and fly home the next morning. We'll reconvene one last time as a group in Princeton, New Jersey in October. Until then, it's back to work, school, and deciding how to best direct these experiences into a new mission.