Mind racing. Heart pounding. Hoping. Anticipating. Anxiously awaiting.

The first day at a new job is always scary, but for teachers, it happens twice the first year and every September thereafter. Once when entering a room full of strangers in a new school in the final week of summer. Again, when the students arrive for the first day of school each year.

Make a good impression.

Make others feel welcome, safe, and noticed.

Make an effort to be thy true self, but the BEST version.

These thoughts raced through my head as one big day arrived, followed by the next.

Middle school? Never!

Up until this point, I had only ever scoffed at the prospect of being a teacher in a middle school. I swore to myself and everyone I knew that the day would never come where I would enter this space. If I could erase middle school from my childhood memories, I’d do it in a second. Middle school was a jungle of hormonal pre-teens, confusing moments, and unclear expectations. Only the craziest and most daring teachers ventured to these parts.

In the first two years of my career, I taught third grade. I didn’t realize it at first, but my heart ached for more. For deeper connections. For greater discussions. For a sense of fulfillment, I couldn’t grasp. One day, the Lord laid on my heart a calling to the jungle. To the place, I had sworn never to cross the threshold (again).

It was time to be one of “those” teachers.

First Day Jitters

The first day of school approached quickly. I felt ill-prepared. I felt ill-equipped. These were 11- and 12-year-olds. They were not the little 8-year-olds I had come to know and understand.

I stood in the field watching these “big” kids climb off buses and out of cars. They shuffled their way through the crowds. Only looking up to find a sign indicating the awaiting teacher and line of students they were meant to join.

I smiled. I waved. I made light conversation. All the time, unaware of what kind of adventures lay ahead for us.

We quickly settled into our new, shared space. With a looming list of tasks to accomplish for the day, we spent the morning going through the first-day motions. By midday, we were able to make room for some curriculum.

I had nervously prepared this content; hoping things wouldn’t get too awkward. These kids were older but there would inevitably be empty space for me to fill when trying to engage them on the first day.

I cannot tell you exactly the topic, nor the specifics of the discussion that followed, but that isn’t what matters. It was the depth of thought. The questioning. The curiosity.

I was astonished.

Never had I bared witness to such a fruitful, mindful, or thoughtful discussion as a teacher. Ever. Let alone on the FIRST day of school. This was EXACTLY what I had been missing.

I Cried

I didn’t cry right there in front of a bunch of pre-teens I was trying to impress. But when I returned home that night, I cried. I wept tears of great joy as I came to the Lord with a very full heart and a posture of thankfulness.

THIS. This is where I belong. This is where my heart is. This is where the Lord has called me.

This jungle is my home.