The weather is giving me a metaphor on a silver platter and I am reluctant to take it. If it was yesterday, with the bright sunshine and the unusual warmth, I would be delighted, but today it is grey, dark clouds opening up periodically to soak those with unfortunate timing. Earlier, there were reports of cloud to ground lightning strikes and the county has been under a high-wind advisory since late last night. The threat of something ominous seems to lurk just outside my window, sending a few dry leaves that had been holding on throughout the winter tumbling through the sky. The birds that were feasting on the treasures in the field outside my window are nowhere to be seen today, and the wind occasionally kicks up hard enough to rattle the double paned glass.
The wind is trying to blow winter back in for one last hurrah and the warmth from yesterday’s sun is barely a memory. Today is such a huge transition, both in school and with our weather, and both are conspiring to give me a full blown headache. Our break begins in just a few hours, giving a clear demarcation between hybrid teaching and “full return” (although I will still have close to 20% of my students at home every day). It is also the end of one marking period and the start of our 4th and final quarter of this year. Today is a huge transition. We are leaving behind the year of pandemic teaching and beginning to think about how to end. How to bring closure to the year and, for my 8th graders, closure to their middle school life. The final marking period will be full of endings, as it always is, but this one feels different. And I guess it should feel different. But I don’t want it to feel like a winter storm muscling its way back into a space where it is no longer welcome. I want it to feel like the morning daffodils poking up and beckoning a new beginning.
amyilene 
“Today is such a huge transition, both in school and with our weather, and both are conspiring to give me a full blown headache.”
This is an incredibly beautiful sentence.
We just had one of our big transitions where we welcomed more students back to campus, and it’s been so strange to have this dynamic shift so late in the year. I feel as though I’ve restarted the school year multiple times. Here’s to all transitions soon becoming as smooth as possible.
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It has been a year of transitions from how students learn to how we go out and interact with others. Yes to morning daffodils over muscling winter.
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“I don’t want it to feel like a winter storm muscling its way back into a space where it is no longer welcome. I want it to feel like the morning daffodils poking up and beckoning a new beginning.” These 2 sentences say so much about what you hope for your students and yourself in bringing this pandemic school year to a close. Metaphors abound and you use them to great effect.
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Love your teaser for today’s slice! I share your gift for seeing metaphor everywhere. Your twist on things in this slice–sharing what you wish you saw rather than what was presented on a silver platter–works so well!
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This story reflects transitions so well: teaching models, weather, middle school, school years and daffodils (one of the first flowers of spring). I prefer the daffodils to the storms too. But, I believe we appreciate the daffodils more because we have experienced the winter storms first.
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Your description of the storm and wind was so real. Especially the detail about the birds absence. I hope you are all safe.
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