26 days...but who's counting?

If you follow me on Twitter, you know that B got a new job! Hooray! It's a lateral move, but it will prepare him to move up in his company. He was told it would take one week to get an answer, but he actually didn't hear anything for two and a half weeks. Why? Because the company had to wait until all of the positions are filled, and apparently, they didn't want him to get short-timer's syndrome once he knew that his days in his current position were numbered.

When I explained that to one of my BFF's and favorite coworker Jen (who desperately needs a blog...hint, hint, Jen), she remarked that to a degree, short-timer's syndrome is involuntary. I wholeheartedly agree. I am a victim of involuntary short-timer's syndrome. And I didn't even realize it until she pointed it out the other day.

Last week, one of my favorite students walked into my room for his therapy session and I sighed and rolled my eyes. Jen and my other coworkers giggled and she said that my relationship with him is so interesting...I love him but don't want to work with him. This kiddo gets seven speech and language sessions a week (that's a lot) and has made little to no progress this year. I didn't work with him in years past, but he didn't make progress in those years, either. And it's next to impossible to work with him, knowing there are less than 30 days left in the school year.

And that makes me feel beyond guilty.

I want to be the speech-language pathologist who saves every last kid. I do. I want to be the superhero SLP. But when you have kids who you feel like you need a cape and actual superpowers to help them make progress, come April, it's so hard.

I've run out of creative ideas.

I've run out of beliefs that miracles might just happen with these kids.

I've run out of energy.

I feel terrible admitting those things, but they are true.

Don't get me wrong....I still love my job.

One of my speech groups is making huge gains. When the second-grader in the group nails her "r" sound, I get a little enthusiasm burst.

Another one of my little girls with autism is making major social progress. When she flags me down in the cafeteria to say hello, or her friends cheer her on to cross the monkey bars, my heart is full.

And my lowest-functioning kids, in wheelchairs, who are completely non-verbal, man oh man, they are my babies. This week, we are reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Every day during our group time, we cut open the fruit that the caterpillar ate that day. The kids touch it and smell it, and then we use the fruit as a stamp to paint on a giant paper caterpillar. I leave that group every single day counting my blessings and knowing I am doing what I can for those kids.

But I have to admit....I don't have a clue what to do next week. I feel like my creative juices have run dry.

I'm ready for a break.

I'm ready to recharge my batteries this summer.

I'm ready for this summer with L: the library reading program, running through the sprinkler, eating picnic lunches, introducing him to the ice cream man, catching fireflies.

This summer will be the last one with him as my only child, and that's absolutely bittersweet.

So forgive me for wanting the rest of the school year to hurry up. Summer is calling.