Janie Slaven: THE TEACHER'S DESK: When the crowds are gone

May 17—This week, I have early morning duty. Starting at 7:30, I monitor the cafeteria: a guard against malfeasance and lack of conformity. From my perch at the top part of the cafeteria, I have a good view of all the students. It is a plethora of individuals projecting their personalities through clothing and hair color, among other things. For example, a student just walked by with a Guns and Roses concert shirt on and long black hair stretching down his back. That might have been me in the 80s.

Consequently, many students are walking by dressed in baseball caps and shorts. I stop myself from habitually telling them to remove their hats, because today is the senior trip to Dollywood. There should be some allowance in the dress code today since they are not going to be in the school building. However, I just observed some short shorts and a belly shirt. I might have to report those boys.

Regardless, there is a relaxed air of general joviality as students gather in the gym and wait for the early morning bus ride.

However, not all are going to Dollywood. There are those who chose a different path for one of their last Fridays at Corbin High School. Instead of the hustle and bustle of crowds and long lines, they decided to stay at the school. Regardless, the halls feel empty without the bulk of the seniors in the building.

Subsequently, today is just a prelude to the days to come. In a few days, when the student crowds are gone, and those hallowed halls sing their praises with leftover pictures and newspaper clippings, when those trophies shine and medals gleam for the spirits of students gone and already beginning their life's journey, they will be missed.

The absence of the angst and passion that pushes and pulls at our day to day will create a lull in the building. It's a different kind of peacefulness. It's more like an acceptance; time marches on, but the walls of the building will remain.

I hope when they look back, they do not see walls that kept them in, rather pillars for their future. These walls hold up the bridge into their adulthood. Without a doubt, high school is a milestone, and for these intrepid youth, there are still yet miles to go. However, as old Henry Longfellow put it, "We are all architects of faith, ever living in these walls of time."

I just watched a student that I have known and had in class for the last three years wave excitedly and enter the gym to join his classmates. I have talked to this individual almost every day through the week, either in class or in the hallway. He is one among hundreds. Monday of next week, that familiar banter or conversation will dissolve with the call of their future. And I couldn't be happier for them. Time marches on, but the walls of the building will remain.

Brian Theodore is a language arts teacher at Corbin High School and lives in Corbin with his wife, who is also a teacher at CHS. He can be contacted at Theteachersdesk.theodore@gmail.com.