It's the end of another school year. And for me, it's pretty much always emotional. I've cried every year since I left Kindergarten, and since I have 7 younger siblings, every year seems to be a "milestone" year. This year was no different. My "baby" brother graduated High School this weekend, and the water works were turned on full force.
The end of a school year is always a reminder to me of the dedication of teacher's. I love teacher's. I wanted to be one for a long time. And before I had Kidd-O, I pretended to be one everyday for 5 years, as a substitute teacher....in a middle school (crazy, huh?). I am forever grateful to the people who are dedicated teachers, especially the ones that are just born to be one.There are a lot of teachers by profession, but I'm talking about the people who pour their hearts and souls into, not just the education of students, but the raising of people's babies...those teachers who make personal, worthwhile investments. Those teachers who love those kids almost as much as their momma's or daddy's do. It takes a village, and those teachers are every bit of that village.
|At sister's graduation a few years ago!|
And while teachers are stressed about content or test scores during the school year, it's the personal, relational investment that is made that has a life-long impact.
I don't remember what I learned about math or writing in 5th grade, but I do remember my teacher who made sure that our room was a place we wanted to be, complete with the only reading loft in the school and flowers that were painted on the bathroom windows so no one could see in. And how she smiled. At everyone. And how she invited her entire class of 5th graders to her wedding....God bless her for that. And 11 years later, she attended mine.
Or my high school communications teacher, whose classroom was a haven from the stresses and chaos of being a 17 year old. She taught me the importance of written word and the impact of spoken word. She taught me how to weave words together to tell great stories, because she told great stories. She taught me compassion. She respected, loved and inspired all of her babies. She left them better than when she got them.
|My 2003 graduation|
And that's what it's all about, right? It's about those teachers who hand out there cell numbers so a kid can ask a math question any time, or those teacher's who save notes from old students because it meant the world to them. It's about that PE teacher who saw potential. And those teacher's who take them time to tell a student that they can do better, and be better and meant that with all their heart.
It's about those teachers who are proud of their old students when they graduate from high school and tell them so. They should be proud. They helped get them there. The calling to be a teacher is high and I am forever grateful to all of the teachers that have loved me and my siblings, and for the teachers who take the time to make an imprint on their lives that last beyond graduation day.
Yes, it takes a village.