I adore the team of teachers with whom I teach.
We are all different in so many ways, but the same in so very many ways as well. We love what we do and each and every
child in our class. We also love
each other which, in my experience, is a unique and wonderful thing.
We eat lunch together in one of our classrooms every day, not
because we are too good to eat in the
faculty room but because after spending half a day in our loud and boisterous classrooms, our minds can’t take the loud and animated discussions
that always occur in the teacher’s lounge.
Yesterday we talked about parent/teacher conferences and the
children in our classrooms. My
fellow teachers have watched me closely this year because they realized early
on that I was the one who won the lottery. I ended up with many
of the overly active, loud, unruly, spicy, challenging, incredible, wonderful,
talkative children. And
while I love each and every one from the bottom of my heart, when they’re all
in the room it’s kind of like leaving a match RIGHT NEXT to a LARGE can of
gasoline. It will always catch on fire.
While we were chatting, Ms. Perky turned to me and said, “You
do have so many ACTIVE boys, Vodka. But you know what? You are so good
with them. You allow them to be
who they are.”
I’ve been weary as of late, and she reminded me with those
words that it is a small price to pay for holding a child’s spirit safe from
harm.
Today as each child marched into my room with their
parents, I saw each of them for who they are: amazing, talented, bright and
hard working kids who give me a reason to come to work each day. They have learned to read; write in
their journals; to exchange ideas and then question those very ideas. They can problem solve, clean up after
themselves, help their friends and make the teacher swell with pride when they
accomplish something they knew they couldn’t.
The last conference of the day was with a young boy who
pushes the envelope every single day.
He lives life to the fullest, and usually invites anyone around him to
join the party. He has also grown
100%, and is one the strongest readers and writers in the class. As I shared
all that he had done and all that he produced, I had to stop the tears of pride
that teachers have learned to hold back during these moments.
At this point, his mother looked at me. “We were so very worried to send him to
school. He’s young, and doesn’t
transition well. But he gets up
every single morning and is excited to come to school; every single
morning. He loves school, he loves
his friends, and he loves you. We
are so very, very happy, and honestly can’t thank you enough for all you’ve
done.”
We each reached into the box of tissues that were
conveniently sitting in the middle of the table and laughed together as we
dabbed our eyes.
This is why I teach. Because this
particular child, the one who I think hasn’t
heard a word I say, has really heard ALL that I’ve said. And still loves school.
Boom.
Boom, indeed.
