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Disclaimer
This blog, this post, and all related accounts are not an official Department of State publication, and that the views and information presented are the Grantee’s and do not represent the Fulbright Program, ECA, the Post, Fulbright Commission, or the host country’s government or institutions.
When I begin to write this post, it is January 11th, which means I have two and a half months until I depart for Uruguay. It is impossible to wrap my head around this shrinking timeline despite how much I talk about it. I feel so out of control as I frantically organize my weekly work schedule around sporadic social gatherings. Little energy remains for pre-departure tasks, so should I spend my free time contemplating the present or the future?
There does not seem to be a perfect ratio. However, to soften the breathtaking blows of culture shock and physical distance, I am beginning my mental transition early. As a type A planner, I already curated a checklist with sub-checklists of purchases, forms, and tasks. My parents push me to progressively empty my bedroom in Duluth of unnecessary loads: out-of-season clothes, books, wallhangings, etc. Soon, my life will once again be reduced to boxes and bags to be reorganized in a new way, for my new destination.
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Happy New Year!
This post serves as my reflections on 2023 and wishes for the upcoming year. I hope 2024 brings you opportunities, challenges, self-discoveries, adventures, and revelations! 
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The Substitute Chronicles
This series features the reflections after each of my shifts as a substitute teacher. I candidly disclose my complex emotions, reactions, and experiences in a job that changes every day. Follow along as I process the absence of routine and the ups and downs of working as a guest teacher! The second return to my elementary school alma mater as an information technology specialist deepened my perspective of the school’s community, layout, and environment. After working in the shoes of my second-grade teacher for a day, the shock of walking the familiar halls in a different role wore off. While I remembered every hallway and idiosyncrasy of the circular building, many things had changed over the past fifteen years. The first- and second-grade classrooms traded places with the fourth- and fifth-grade classrooms. The science specialist's old room is now occupied by witty, hormonal fifth graders; her new room is in the former kindergarten wing.
Over the next three days, I wheeled the specialist’s cart around the school; taking myself on a tour of the new layout, I ascended elevators, ramps, and stairs to cross over between the grade levels. Breaking out of the confinement of a single classroom, I rolled a cart from fifth grade to first; I met new faces, new behaviors, and new characters every hour. I hit the playback button every fifty-five minutes, repeating the same lesson three times (fifth, fourth, and third grade) and then twice (second and first). The days flew by as I rolled the clunky cart over tile, carpet, and small speed bumps. 
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The Substitute Chronicles
This series features the reflections after each of my shifts as a substitute teacher. I candidly disclose my complex emotions, reactions, and experiences in a job that changes every day. Follow along as I process the absence of routine and the ups and downs of working as a guest teacher! It is hard to believe the dramatic change in weather and the foreshadowing of snowflakes that fell at sunrise. As the maple trees commenced their yearly metamorphosis to produce luscious maroons, clementine orange, and daffodil yellow leaves, I floated among schools, grade levels, and districts. In one month, I traversed through preschool, kindergarten, and third grade, assisting as a paraprofessional and leading as a teacher. I returned to my former second-grade classroom, bridging connections with a different generation. In the hours dedicated to facilitation and on-the-fly simultaneous decisions, I spun through routines and around unfamiliar rooms, like a lost leaf in the wind.
After each shift, each milestone, I sat on my soft leather couch and wrote everything down. Every story, every frustration, every question, every lesson. So that ten years from now, when I stand in my own classroom with established rules and community, I can reflect on these few months of disorder and enlightenment. Substitute teaching presents the challenge of overcoming insecurity and foraging confidence when I am the most out of place. This job is a provider of second chances and a platform to practice, strategize, and most importantly, learn. 
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The Substitute Chronicles
This series features the reflections after each of my shifts as a substitute teacher. I candidly disclose my complex emotions, reactions, and experiences in a job that changes every day. Follow along as I process the absence of routine and the ups and downs of working as a guest teacher! This post was written on October 3rd, 2023 "'Come paint with me!': a half day in preschool"I picked up today’s shift last minute – less than twenty-four hours before it began. I chose the unexpected. Originally, I was scheduled for an afternoon first-grade position. When the teacher took back the shift, they offered a free day to sleep in, treat myself to coffee, and take my time packing before I drove to my hometown. Instead, I woke up at 5:15 am, drove up and down a familiar hilly side street, admiring the red and pink hues mixing as the sun poked its inviting head out of the treeline, and clocked in four hours as a preschool aide.
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The Substitute Chronicles
This series features the reflections after each of my shifts as a substitute teacher. I candidly disclose my complex emotions, reactions, and experiences in a job that changes every day. Follow along as I process the absence of routine and the ups and downs of working as a guest teacher! "Una sorpresa maravillosa"I woke up this morning –again at 5:15 a.m.– interrupted in the middle of a dream. I could not believe it was time to get up. At least two more hours, right? Not this time. My room was so dark as I rolled out of bed that I mistook the time for 2:00 a.m., not the beginning of a workday.
My eyes were heavy, tired from last night's crying spell in which I finally erupted my frustration, disappointment, and defeat onto my soft comforter. Every signal in my body was pulling me back to bed. I drowned it out, turning on my desk lamp to flood my room with light. Stumbling out to the bathroom, I commenced my morning routine. Typically, I feel better with a comfortable outfit. Clothes transformed my confidence. I needed all the intrinsic motivation I could muster. Settling for my new favorite green autumn-themed long-sleeve shirt and matching pants, I walked downstairs to prepare my magical brew – coffee with oat milk and honey – and a sustaining breakfast (usually a couple slices of peanut butter toast and a banana). The rest of the morning was sluggish: I read on the couch before giving the sub plans another thorough look (the teacher emailed them to me the previous afternoon). Scanning the plan for possible spaces for filler activities, breaks, and songs, I jotted some ideas in my designated sub notebook. Thankfully, my teacher mode activated upon my arrival at the school. The depressed, exhausted persona renewed with a welcoming smile and recharged energy (the brew worked its magic). It was a new day, new students, new schedule. And I had to be ready for whatever happened after that first bell. The following hours were a marvelous surprise. I had fun! I laughed, danced, played, and connected with students and staff. Despite working in a new school, a guide was always there, from the responsible five-year-olds in my class to the warm staff walking the halls. “Which way?”, I asked the line leader, taking the cautious first steps out of the classroom on our way to specialists. “This way!”, three small fingers pointed, directing me to the left, down the ramp, and through a maze of hallways. The most wonderful surprise? I felt respected, heard, and welcomed by the students. They quickly accepted me into their bilingual world. They listened, took turns when speaking, and followed directions with grace – a quality I previously did not associate with kindergartners. Their attitude reminded me that children are lights: curious, optimistic, kind-hearted, observant, honest, fragile little bulbs with limitless potential. The adults around them choose between nurture and neglect – whether their light is encouraged to shine or left to burn out before it is too late. . . .Lesson: as a substitute, expect the best, prepare for the worst, and welcome the surprises.
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AuthorMeghan Hesterman (she/her) is an aspiring educator, storyteller, and traveler. Through regular posts and commentary, she candidly reflects on her evolution as an educator and young adult. Categories
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