Back to School... Back to School...

It's official: summer's over.  But, really, I'm ok with that.  I like summer, but I love fall, and I'm a big fan of winter.  Something about being a Vermonter makes me really look forward to the cold nights, fiery leaves, bulky sweaters, a burning wood stove, hearty stews, and finally snow.  I love it.  Really.  Those nor'easters that we love to complain about in New England?  I can't get enough of 'em.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The arrival of fall means all of my crazy fun warm-weather activities have come and gone.  I did a whole lotta livin' this summer, and I am so grateful for it, but I am also glad to start settling down into the calm of the season.  Wait, who am I kidding?  The arrival of fall means being just as busy as I was over the summer, if not more so, only this time, it's because I'm back to school!

Just to recap, on Aug 12th, I had surgery on my right lung to remove some of the small tumors that were in there.  The surgery went very well, to the point that my surgeon was literally bouncing up and down when she spoke to Tom and my Mom as I was still waking up.  My recovery over the next couple weeks also went well, though perhaps a bit more slowly than my first lung surgery... or maybe that was just me feeling impatient.  I couldn't wait to drive and be functional again, because I was going back to school!

So, a mere two weeks after surgery, I returned to teaching.  The people at my school and in my district were awesome and worked with me so I could return part-time, three days a week.  Because of my part-time-ness, I work with another full-time art teacher at my school, and the two of us collaborate on everything.  She's fantastic, we work very well together, and it's a great relief to me to share the responsibilities of teaching art to over 500 students with another person.

Our Art Room door

Many people have asked me how I have been feeling during these first few months of school.  Am I tired?  Am I stressed?  Do the kids ask me weird or uncomfortable questions?  Has it been hard to come back?  In a word: yes.  But not in the way you might think.  Yes, I've been tired, but everyone gets tired when they work hard, and my level of fatigue is honestly no different than it was when I was teaching before.  Yes, I've been stressed, but every single person at my school is stressed because the beginning of the school year is pure insanity, and I'm right there with them.  Yes, the kids ask me weird or slightly inappropriate questions, but I'd much rather face days of talking about cancer with seven year olds than a few hours of chemo, no contest.  And while most of the time it feels like I never left, yes, sometimes the transition back has been hard.  But really, the difficulty is mostly due to the fact that schools change so much in a year, and I have had to learn or relearn some things on the fly (eg. new students, new colleagues, new evaluation systems, new school protocol, new district protocol, etc.).  Again, that newness doesn't have to do with me having cancer, it really just has to do with being a teacher.

Returning to work - even part time - has all sorts of consequences, but I welcome most of them with open arms.  I may be really busy, but I have a daily and weekly routine now that doesn't revolve around doctors appointments or treatments.  I don't sleep as much, but I have real reasons to leave the house every day.  I may be exposed to a lot more germs, but I get to talk to other people besides Tom (as much as I like Tom, for me, variety is the spice of life when it comes to social interaction).  And even though teaching is a lot of work, I feel like I am actually accomplishing something with my time.

1st, 2nd, and 3rd Grade Self Portraits (with some teacher examples thrown in)

The biggest benefit for me is really just having something else to do.  As I've said to many people, I am thrilled to spend my time thinking about my students and not about myself.  I'm not real comfortable having been on so many people's minds this past year and a half, especially for something like cancer.  I'm ok with being recognized for the good stuff - like throwing awesome parties, or cooking a really great meal, or helping out a colleague, or teaching a great lesson - but that's because I choose to put effort into those things.  And whether I'm working with a student or working on a new cocktail, I take my work very seriously.  I didn't choose to contract a serious disease, in fact, I have put effort into not doing that - like eating healthfully, exercising, getting yearly physicals, wearing sunscreen, etc.  But, as we all know, sometimes things don't turn out the way you hoped; as a wise woman once told me, "life doesn't come with an instruction manual."  But, rather than worry about my health and the uncertainty of my future, I'm much happier spending my time thinking about behavior management, developing lesson plans, joining various school committees, and encouraging the love of art in young children.

Students working on our Picasso Art History lesson

And as for my health, I am tentatively hoping that this school year goes uninterrupted by anything major.  At my last doctor's appointment, I had full scans, and confirmed that there is currently no visible sign of the cancer in my body, as in, my surgeons got it all out, as in, I can solidly say I'm in remission.  That being said, I will likely go back on the Pazopanib - the chemo pill - in a few weeks from now.  As Dr. Morgan (he's my new oncologist; Dr. B sadly moved to Seattle, though I do get to keep all my excellent nurses, and with a name like Morgan, my new doc's gotta be good) explained, the pill works best and works for the longest amount of time if it has the least amount of cancer to work on.  In other words, if I had large tumors, the pill would have more cancer cells to work on, so it would use up it's usefulness more quickly (the nature of cancer is that at some point it will likely become immune to the pill).  Since I don't have any tumors, but it is likely I still have cancer cells on a microscopic level that could turn into something nasty later, the chemo pill will target those small cells, and have a better chance at getting rid of them, or at least keep them from growing, and lessen the likelihood of a relapse for me in the future.  To be clear, this situation does not mean I will be magically cured, but it's definitely changing the game.  I will have to deal with the side effects of the Pazopanib - I might be more tired, my hair will turn white, my taste buds will probably go wonky, and I might be more prone to skin irritation and other things - but they are nothing like the side effects I experienced with infusion treatments last year, and I know I can still teach and go about my life.

Dealing with uncertainty is something I've gotten used to this past year.  It's why I am only working part time.  It's why I am sometimes hesitant to say that things are going well for me right now.  And it's why I am more hesitant to be positive about the future.  But things are looking good right now, and I have learned enough about how cancer works to know that things could be good for a while longer, too.  It's yet another reason why I am so glad I'm back at school again; if, by going back to work, I start acting like things are going well, then maybe they will start going well, and maybe I'll actually be able to believe it, too.