Why does time crawl sluggishly through the quicksand and simultaneously zip past at the speed of light? I remember starting this new year at a new school with a sense of dread like I start all new ventures. It’s not that I lack enthusiasm and excitement; it’s merely that I fear failure. I like being good at what I do, and I aim for perfection at everything, which yes, is a fatal flaw. But, this year does carry with it a bittersweet air.

This was my first year at a school where I can grow roots. Last year - deep down - I knew I was leaving by the end to be with Mr. Know-it-All. Now, we’re remodeling a house, finally getting married, and living in the chaotic calm that will be our new life. In the past 6 years, this is the first year that I will remain stagnant, and I have never been more excited for that sought-after monotonous thing they call adult life. It truly is a gift all on its own.

While this is the end of the physical work year for me, it is the beginning of a brand new era for the future Mrs. Know-it-All. I feel content in the curriculum I have created this year, and I am doing a happy little dance across the tile floors of room 405 because I don’t have to start from scratch … again. I can modify and adapt what currently exists. Isn’t that a novelty as an educator?

Really my time this year pacing back and forth in front of my SmartBoard, drilling grammar concepts like there’s no tomorrow, emphasizing the need to read all writing aloud before you submit it to me, and reading aloud the wonderful short story, novella, novel, and play selections I chose for my diverse learners was such a thrill. Yes, my lovely readers, I enjoy learning and teaching and shaping and encouraging students to think for themselves - to throw bandwagoning to the wind and be as uniquely them as they want to be.

Being a young and new teacher during a pandemic in a political climate unlike any I’ve ever witnessed in my 24 years on this earth was challenging. Sometimes students would throw me curveballs, especially during our studies of texts revolving solely around societal issues like racism, prejudice, class systems, gender roles, stereotyping, feminism, misogyny, gun violence, gang violence, alcoholism, drug abuse, neglect, etc. These were teachable moments for me as an educator, on the spot. Being that I chose teaching as a profession, it is my duty to the upcoming generations to remain completely unbiased, which I feel I upheld to the highest degree, especially this year - something I wish mainstream media and the uneducated Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, etc. users would also keep in mind.

In short, behind the mask and inevitable fog on my seafoam rims, there was always a smile. I had wonderful support, professionally, personally, and from the parents with whom I interacted. I made an effort to involve myself in the school community by coaching a middle school-age running team that focuses on the whole girl, targeting issues like self-esteem and acceptance. I created a rapport with my learners in an effort to understand their needs, their interests, and their overall personalities. I’m going to miss the seniors who now transition into the real world, as well as the tenth graders who made my first year worth it. However, I always tend to look forward to new beginnings: a new group of learners, updated units, and oodles of popcorn days in film class. (As a film teacher, I’m seriously considering making the class a full experience … there may be a popcorn machine in room 405’s future.)

While teaching has slid to the back burner momentarily, the house renovations are in full swing. I never thought putting time and effort into creating a home out of a house would make my body ache as it has in the past few days. Don’t get me wrong, it is a fruitful experience to paint my kitchen cabinets, refurbish a dining table, paint my enclosed front porch, and put together my new office chair, but it is a lot on my inner 80-year-old.

Since February, Mr. Know-it-All and I have been working on our home on Saturdays - which really puts a damper on weekend “relaxation”. Between that and marriage classes, there really wasn’t room for much else. Now, we at least - or I at least (Mr. Know-it-All is not in a “summer’s free” kind of a career) - have time to bring our visions to life. These visions sometimes change in the blink of an eye - like when both my mother and I missed that the can of cabinet paint said black instead of white. But, no matter, I like the black cabinets better anyway.

With home buying and renovating comes the shocking realization that money does not grow on trees, despite what childhood manifestations may have led us to believe. Instead, it falls out of our pockets and into the greedy hands of capitalism so that we can have nice things like a shower instead of a miniature clawfoot tub from 1916. While this tub will not be the main cleansing spot in our master bathroom, it will grace our home in a DIY fashion.

This new beginning - clad in DIY, paint-splotched clothes, and back pain like no other - is what I never knew I needed but somehow always wanted. The plus: I get to do all of this with the best DIY parents (who upscaled my childhood home and just closed on the sale not too long ago), family friends, and future husband a woman could ever even wish for. I am so grateful and honestly lucky when I think about where I am at 24 and where I could be at 24 if I let my anxieties, insecurities, and fears get the best of me.

This update on my Truth About Coffee is long overdue and would not be complete without an anecdote about our new little community. Mr. Know-it-All and I like to take walks down to the Susquehanna, which is less than a mile from our house. On our travels, we came across this cute little cafe. This morning, we walked down to get brunch, and I had a wonderful latte. I think I found my new coffee spot for when I’m craving something other than espresso at home. Our lives are just as they should be, and I couldn’t be happier. Until next time ...