I'm becoming used to the rhythm of the university year. January to December doesn't mean much any more- my year is August to December, January to May, May to August. (With a little of December to January thrown in for good measure.)
"Next year" doesn't mean 2013, it means August. Or perhaps July if I'm going by the University's fiscal calendar. "Spring" is usually a new beginning, but in my world, it's the end of a phase. I'm losing 5 students to graduation (how dare they grow up and leave?). We cleaned out the dorms, and will spend the summer luxuriating in their emptiness. Summer means dormancy, time to step back, to take a breath, to both recover and prepare. The traditional time of harvest is my time to plant new seeds, if you can call reminders to recycle "seeds." I'll have a whole new crop of freshmen to educate come fall.
So my year is over, time for the champagne and the balloons, the songs of memory and of hope. Happy New Year!