Winter is here and the New Year has already begun. The winter solstice is the new year shift for me. Staying up late, I reveled with my aunt in Belfast. We sang, lit candles, made noise, and gave the dying year a prayer or two. It was in the morning after Longest Night that we began to set our intentions for the new year. Not right away though, because intentions and dreams take a little while to realize on paper, in language, in place of feeling. But we started with coffee and talking about what we wanted, and by the evening I had at least one or two intentions solidified. 

In class, I scaled back the spiritual aspects, and instead focused my teaching on cycles as a means to ground the turning into our everyday lives. I explored grief, death, and renewal with my AP Lit students in the days leading up to the winter solstice. John Donne’s “A Nocturnal Upon St. Lucy’s Day,” Naomi Shihab Nye’s “Burning the Old Year,” and Susan Cooper’s “The Shortest Day.” We made luminaries with cardstock, tracing paper, fussy-cut silhouettes, tea lights, and lots and lots of patience. This was the perfect opportunity to talk about the wheel of the year, and about how seasonal cycles, life cycles, cycles of time are all wrapped and intertwined with each other. I saw eyes around the room light up with connections made to this new entry point to archetypal symbolism. Despite my dislike of shortened days when younger, this transitional period of the year has become my favorite as it is full of releasing and reflecting on the old year and dreaming of the new. 

Sitting here on my couch tonight, I ask myself: What have I learned this year? How have I grown? It was my friend Mary, also a teacher, who asked me that last question a few years ago. She pushed me to think about why we stop asking certain questions of adults that are deemed perfectly acceptable to ask a child about their year: “How have you grown?” I want to ask that question three times just to let it roll around in my mouth and mind. One of my 2024 intentions tied directly to growing as a professional, as an educator. That is where I found myself reflecting as I got ready to head back into the classroom, hoping I would feel refreshed.  

My 2024 professional journey began where it starts for me every year, at the March MCELA conference in Portland. I have the chance to see the familiar faces that I love and to meet new people. The conference is usually the first opportunity to chat with teacher friends about how their year has shook out thus far, and ask what new things they are bringing into their classrooms. Each session is a new spark or seed for experiences in the classroom that I can change, revise, or create. The week before winter break this year, I laid out book choices for my “Maine Independent Book Unit” and realized that I have met nearly every one of those authors over the years through the MCELA conferences, and it made me smile. I share the stories of those meetings with my students as I go through the book choices with them. After the 2024 Conference, I came back raving about Maya Williams and her poetry, and about taking more time for creative writing having been inspired by a “Joyful Journaling” session run by Edith Berger. It was also at this conference that Kristina, a teacher bestie from another district, and I made a pact to go on this journey of growing our professional lives together. The first big step on the journey–at the end of the conference we both put in our names for joining the MCELA Executive Board. Both of us were ready to try leadership outside of our classrooms and districts.

I have not missed an MCELA conference in years, nor have I missed an MCELA book club. This year, as new board members, Kristina and I got to be on the other side and facilitate parts of our fall read, The Art of Fiction by Kate Roberts. I cannot remember the last time I dove so deeply into a text, but I didn’t want to be unprepared knowing that I was leading parts of the conversation. This was an entirely new experience for me.  I still think about how Kristina and I reviewed notes and gave one another pep talks. Growth of another kind began taking place–growth in professional leadership. The support and mentorship of other board members is what allowed me to take those steps. These are also the people who lifted me up and pushed me to attend NCTE in Boston this year and the following English Leadership convention. I will write my way into 2025 if I take time to write about all of the wonderful moments and experiences that came with both conventions, but I do want to add that I returned home with books for my classroom, for myself, incredible ideas to elevate my teaching, as well as new friendships. I’ve started correspondence with a professor in Michigan and am participating in a 30 Day Writing Habit challenge with an instructional coach in Canada.

Closing out this newsletter piece, I realize it’s turned more into a reflection as I look back on the year with wonder. I can sense the ways I have grown in the way I pick up my pen, the way I carry my growing confidence, the way that I interact with my students, and the way that turning in to look at myself has become less hard. So, if you have managed to make it this far reading, ask yourself, “How have I grown?” Ask it three times out loud. What did you do in 2024 that fueled your growth? How do you intend to continue to grow in 2025?