Right now, the West-East basketball games are happening in the South Gym. I’m in the journalism room catching up on work and cleaning. How do journalism rooms get so trashed?
Our video yearbook videographers pop in occasionally to grab new batteries and memory cards. One of the newspaper photographers took the fancy lenses and is taking photos of the madness that is the rivalry game.
My sports editor is crammed into the press section of the gym, tweeting game updates. He’s using basketball jargon and spelling everyone’s name right. I’m not sitting next to him, proofreading every word or suggesting different ways to word the updates. He’s rocking it.
And I’m taking a break from the grading and the cleaning to document how proud and happy I feel right now. These students who step up when needed and prove they can be trusted with expensive equipment and Twitter accounts. These students who really do comprise the majority of who I teach each day–kids who just want to be trusted (but with an adult safety net) and who really do want to learn.
I’m lucky to do what I do. Lucky to advise publications that aren’t stuck in the 20th Century. Lucky to have a principal who believes in what we do. So even though I’m still at school at 7:46, I’m lucky.
