When you say I'm just a teacher...
I have heard every patronizing, pitying, and belittling comment about my less-than-brag-worthy salary, the little impact you believe we make, and my favorite, "But at least you have summers off!" Nothing breaks my heart more, though, than this: "You're just a teacher." Each and every day of my life, I thank the universe for blessing me with the call to be a teacher and feel grateful that I answered and have the privilege to be one.
These daily moments where I am in awe of how lucky I am often catch me by surprise. I can't help but rejoice when my freshmen move into the honors and AP tracks, when my sophomores realize and admit that they have much to learn, when my juniors feel relief after taking their ACTs, and when I get to celebrate the next chapter that's starting with my almost-grown-up seniors.
When I get to school early and often stay late to see all of the forgotten books, homework left behind, experience with them how unfair standardized tests are, give out extra pencils, and reminders to make good decisions, I am still always grateful. It is in these tiny moments of the most frantic days that I am able to remember I am one of very few lucky enough to be part of this learning process each and every step of the way with students who trust me enough to do so.
Each day that I step foot into my school, I am overwhelmed with the love for and from my kids, and so empowered that this is what I get to do. I have magic in me, you see, because I have a very special job to do. All of our students in their young, impressionable, and wonderful glory come to school with something special, too. That thing is called hope. Sometimes, the hope that students carry to school is the only thing in the whole world that they own.
Imagine with me: Students who arrive each day with the same clothes that have not been washed that week. Students who come from empty homes, if they're lucky enough to have a home at all, and return to those same barren spaces after they leave your classroom. Students without the support, love, and encouragement that many of you grew up with and wish for your own children. Students who walk into your class so hungry because yesterday's lunch was their only meal. Imagine kids living in these conditions, or worse, but who are still so full of hope.
Each day, I look into my students eyes as I teach them about the world, and what it means to be kind and a decent human being, and I see that I have exactly one school year to help these children as much as I possibly can. Doing everything I possibly can means that I spend every waking moment creating lessons and exciting activities that will engage my students to expand their minds and broaden their horizons past the limits they've been told there are in this one short life of ours.
What you're really saying is...
That I think I can change the world. The truth is, I'm one of the only people in this world with enough hope to make it happen. Along with the other brave souls who have invested their lives in education, we face each day with a grateful heart and hopeful attitude that maybe one day will encourage, inspire, and motivate one of our students to think that they can change this world, too. I tell my kids every single day that it's hard to beat someone who never gives up; this world won't change unless we try.
Thank you so much for reminding me of how grateful I am to have a hand in brightening future generations, while you continue cast shadows from your dark corner of the world. The hours spent tutoring, extra granola bars and fruit that I pack in my lunch, weekends spent grading, and paychecks that don't earn me bragging rights are all part of this one amazing life I live as a teacher, because they allow me to witness the magic of this profession: Complete sentences. Healthy check-ups. Confident smiles. "I get it now!" Hard work that pays off. Hugs. Creativity. Strong voices. First A. First C. College acceptance letters. Graduation. "Thanks for believing in me."
If nothing else, I'm grateful to be "just" a teacher because there is no greater reward to me than feeling partially responsible for shining hope, light, and love onto this world that so greatly needs more teachers.
