Dear Ms. Edinger,
I took your class in high school. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you. Your social studies class, I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much. I sat inside your class, hoping never to be noticed. You didn’t yell and never scolded. I remember that so well. You were the kind of teacher who seemed to focus on what mattered.
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I recedntly had the opportunity to do what seems to be rare for me lately, invite people over for dinner. During that gathering, my sister-in-law shared a story of a time she watched a hairdresser attempt to communicate with a client who did not speak much English. The result was much like the video above. The hairdresser’s voice went up in volume and her slow enunciation of loud words quickly began to imply that one of the two parties might be suffering a mental disability.
Picture books sit like memories in my mind. They preserve the time my children once sat beside me, perfectly under one arm and ready to turn the pages.
"She said someone was giving her the answers during the test,” the mother of one of my students announced during an official school meeting.
I remember feeling my brows slowly rise, my eyes open just a bit wider, and then sitting up straight. Maybe I didn’t hear that right, I thought to myself. Every once in a while, I get a moment to sit and hear a student share their ideas or experiences. Sometimes their words leave me breathing deeply with joy. Some conversations however can stop the world from spinning and fill your heart with each beautiful word.
“If not in the arena, also getting your %#@ kicked, I’m not interested in your feedback. Period.” -Brené Brown.
The more I write, the more I get to know myself. Sometimes I struggle, just like any other human being. I came across this video of Brené Brown and she said something in her talk that just stuck to me. Those words above, “If you’re not in the arena…” Her words rang in my head over and over. It helped me to come to a small, but important conclusion about the work that I do with kids. It helped me to give myself grace, even when others may not. Dear Mrs. Rodriguez, You are the most encouraging… “ writes a student on a sticky note covered solid in tape on my classroom desk. She wanted it to stay, I’m sure.
"The first thing I’m going to say is that I miss you all a lot. I'm in Argentina now…” one of my former students wrote yesterday to his classmates.
Shortly before our winter break, we welcomed a new student into our classroom and just a couple weeks ago, we had to say goodbye. My mother called today. She is 87 years old, and it was lovely to hear her voice. I call her once a week at least, and once a day at most. Today, her call came unexpectedly. It was a nice surprise.
Earlier today, Nicholas Feroni (@NicholasFerroni) shared a post on Twitter. He tweeted, “While we are all concerned about the coronavirus, I want to remind everyone that EVERY SINGLE DAY elementary school teachers come into direct contact with mystery fluids and every germ known to man…”
It made me think about our classroom battles with germs. Maybe "germ wars" would be a |
AuthorI write. I read. I learn... and then I write some more. Archives
July 2020
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