The End of the Year
Teacher blood courses through my veins. My mom is a teacher; my dad was a teacher, preacher, and T.V. repairman before he became a psychotherapist. He still teaches Sunday school, and he always says, "once a preacher and teacher, always a preacher and teacher." (He does not say the same thing about T.V. repairman). My sister was going to be a teacher, but she called my mom (and then me) two weeks ago and shamefully confessed she changed her mind. In my family, this was akin to her calling home and saying she was in prison because she had just robbed a liquor store. My mom is still wondering what she might potentially do. What else is there out there besides teaching?
Even though I don't believe that my sister Karen's decision to pursue a career other than teaching has thrust her into the nebulous group of young adults without a future, I likewise have a hard time viewing the world through non-teacher glasses. My world is a teacher's world. My year begins in August, not January, and it ends in May, not December. I truly do love my job and it is more than just a job to me. It is my life, and it is a very good life.
This morning I had to walk through a gaggle of sixth-grade boys who were chasing balloons leftover from someone's early morning birthday celebration and popping them. I had to smile and shake my head as I watched about 20 boys chase one balloon, catch it gleefully, and then pop it even more gleefully. One day they will lose this innocence, and it will be replaced by the knowledge that being cool is more important than being joyful. I feel so lucky, however, that I teach students while they are still uncool enough to enjoy chasing around a balloon.
On my closet door, I see 20 cards that have been created for me by students this year. Each message is so very meaningful to me. When my students leave my classroom each day, they thank me and wish me a good day. If I scold one of my students during class, 9 times out of 10 the student will stay after class and apologize. In a world where people decry the inappreciative attitudes of young adults, I teach a group of students who let me know daily that I am honored and that my work is appreciated.
As I finish up my grading and plan for the exam, I am continually amazed at how much students can grow in just a year. I thank God daily for putting me in a position where I can be amazed and astounded by the ability of my students to grow and change. I teach different students today then I did at the beginning of the year. The other day I walked around the room while my students were in their book groups and listened in on their discussions about the books they were reading, and I nearly cried. I heard discussions about the place of science in our world, discussions about poverty, discussions about friendship, discussions about abortion, discussions about choices, etc. They were having real discussions about real issues by themselves. They sounded so grown up and smart. I felt pride welling up within me.
Yesterday, as I cleaned out my closet, I happened upon the responses my creative writing class wrote after September 11. This was the class that watched the Twin Towers fall with me. We all cried together, and then they decided, on their own without prompting from me, to create an anthology of their responses to the tragedy. Some compiled pictures, some wrote poetry, some wrote short stories, and some wrote personal narratives. Each piece of work is wonderfully elegant and poignant in its own way.
Daily I am priviledged to have these fabulous life-changing and life-affirming experiences. Yes, I have to deal with parents who think their children do no wrong. Yes, it takes a long time to grade papers and lesson plan (thus, I am at school at 7:13 p.m.). Yes, students can be loud, they do sometimes make really bad decisions, and yes, they can disappoint the fire out of you and tear your heart out. But all of these down sides are well worth it. I get to see a piece of the future grow every day, and, I have to say, it looks pretty good.
Even though I don't believe that my sister Karen's decision to pursue a career other than teaching has thrust her into the nebulous group of young adults without a future, I likewise have a hard time viewing the world through non-teacher glasses. My world is a teacher's world. My year begins in August, not January, and it ends in May, not December. I truly do love my job and it is more than just a job to me. It is my life, and it is a very good life.
This morning I had to walk through a gaggle of sixth-grade boys who were chasing balloons leftover from someone's early morning birthday celebration and popping them. I had to smile and shake my head as I watched about 20 boys chase one balloon, catch it gleefully, and then pop it even more gleefully. One day they will lose this innocence, and it will be replaced by the knowledge that being cool is more important than being joyful. I feel so lucky, however, that I teach students while they are still uncool enough to enjoy chasing around a balloon.
On my closet door, I see 20 cards that have been created for me by students this year. Each message is so very meaningful to me. When my students leave my classroom each day, they thank me and wish me a good day. If I scold one of my students during class, 9 times out of 10 the student will stay after class and apologize. In a world where people decry the inappreciative attitudes of young adults, I teach a group of students who let me know daily that I am honored and that my work is appreciated.
As I finish up my grading and plan for the exam, I am continually amazed at how much students can grow in just a year. I thank God daily for putting me in a position where I can be amazed and astounded by the ability of my students to grow and change. I teach different students today then I did at the beginning of the year. The other day I walked around the room while my students were in their book groups and listened in on their discussions about the books they were reading, and I nearly cried. I heard discussions about the place of science in our world, discussions about poverty, discussions about friendship, discussions about abortion, discussions about choices, etc. They were having real discussions about real issues by themselves. They sounded so grown up and smart. I felt pride welling up within me.
Yesterday, as I cleaned out my closet, I happened upon the responses my creative writing class wrote after September 11. This was the class that watched the Twin Towers fall with me. We all cried together, and then they decided, on their own without prompting from me, to create an anthology of their responses to the tragedy. Some compiled pictures, some wrote poetry, some wrote short stories, and some wrote personal narratives. Each piece of work is wonderfully elegant and poignant in its own way.
Daily I am priviledged to have these fabulous life-changing and life-affirming experiences. Yes, I have to deal with parents who think their children do no wrong. Yes, it takes a long time to grade papers and lesson plan (thus, I am at school at 7:13 p.m.). Yes, students can be loud, they do sometimes make really bad decisions, and yes, they can disappoint the fire out of you and tear your heart out. But all of these down sides are well worth it. I get to see a piece of the future grow every day, and, I have to say, it looks pretty good.
posted by Jami | 3:36 PM
2 Comments:
Beautiful post, Jami. This reminds me why I chose to study Social Work with an emphasis on kids...they really are our brightest hope, and their innocence is inspiring. Thank you for doing what you do!
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