What a year. School year, that is. Back in August 2007, I thought being between two schools as a part-time teacher would be a breeze. There's not much difference between seventh graders and seniors, besides height, so no problem.

I stand corrected. Night classes and parent nights collided. Throw in Mr. K's meetings schedule and early night classes, and it was pretty much organized chaos.

The year's end is here. This is the time of year that brings bittersweet feelings for most teachers. Curriculum favorites that we didn't get to, students moving on to other schools, higher grade levels, promises of lazy summer days, the house projects, securing positions for next year.

For many DCSD teachers this year, this is the biggest concern as budget woes dictate more candidates for fewer positions. I'm in this boat as my contract at Castle Rock Middle School was a One-Year Only. This was due to the fact that Mesa Middle School is to open this year, which will take almost half the population of CRMS.

Then there is Libby Stragand, retiring after 30+ years teaching Consumer Studies. (That's Home Ec.) She will give you the number of days she has left if you pass her in the hall, but I have seen that final day break down even the most hardened teacher. She'll go through a box of Kleenex, easy.

In all of my classes I had some unique personalities, some "dream students," and some ... well, I'll just stop there.

But then there were those I know I couldn't reach. These students, the ones who are simply in class, are the ones that make me sad at the end of each year. What could I have done differently to break through to them? I have to remind myself of my own philosophy, your education is like your bank account; you put nothing in, you get nothing out.

I think a lot of students forget that their efforts are required for education to work. If it really did happen by osmosis, it would certainly be a lot easier. But then that's not why I chose this profession.

Think the Sand dollar story. After a storm, a man walking along the beach littered with sand dollars sees another man stooping to toss a sand dollar here and there back into the water.

"You can't possibly make a difference here - there are thousands of them!" he calls. The other man tosses another sand dollar back into the sea and says, "I made a difference to that one."

I know I made a difference to more than one "sand dollar" this year.

Good luck to every one of you.

Mrs. Klinkerman