Thank a Teacher

My aunt is a retired school principal. My half-sister was an elementary school teacher, now principal. My cousin has taught high school English for years. My mother is a retired fifth-grade teacher. You could say teaching runs in my family. For a long time, I thought I would join their ranks. When I was a little girl I always wanted to be a teacher. I would set up all my dolls and stuffed animals and perch above them on a table to read books aloud. I would carefully show them the pages, making sure everyone could see them. I’d go down to the basement where my mom kept all her old teaching curriculum and I’d play “school” with my friends. I loved it because, well, let’s be honest, I liked being in charge. I liked the idea of being the boss of the classroom, doling out assignments and consequences anytime I felt like it. (This is what I thought teaching was.) As the youngest child at home, I never had that kind of authority. Teaching would make up for all those years of perceived disregard. I was committed to this dream of teaching until I spent my senior year of high school working at an after-school program and taking a Childhood Development class. Both made it clear I wasn’t cut out for a career that required entirely too much patience, empathy, and relationship skills.

It’s Teacher Appreciation Week, and it goes without saying we should be appreciating teachers all year round, not just the first week of May. It’s been fun to join my kids in their creative brainstorming as they think of ways to bless their teachers each day. They’ve gifted their first and fourth-grade teachers with hand-drawn pictures, favorite sodas, flowers, and school spirit cookies. I’m sure their teachers have been delighted by the sweet surprises they're receiving each day, but let’s be honest, there is no amount of treats, gift cards, classroom supplies, or bottles of wine that could make up for the effort teachers put into their work. Teachers’ jobs are equal parts heart and headache. They work tirelessly each day with little thanks and even less pay.

I have many friends who teach as a profession. I have heard countless stories of the struggles they face year after year, student after student, parent after parent, and administration after administration. It is evident to me that teaching any grade is not for the faint of heart. So often I ask them, “Why do you do it?” The answer is always the same: the reward is in the little things. It’s there when a concept finally “clicks” for a student after weeks of struggle. It’s there when the insecure kid eventually works up the courage to raise their hand in class. It’s there when the student with a speech delay executes a public speaking assignment for the first time. It’s there when a student confides in her teacher that there’s a lot more to her falling grades than either one of them realized. The reward is in the hugs, the high fives, and the “I made this for you" artwork. Teaching is so much more than pushing the curriculum and administering tests. Teaching is about relationships. Teaching is giving students a safe, trustworthy space not just to learn something, but to be something.

I’m fully aware that both my kids have presented a unique set of challenges to their teachers thus far. I’m grateful for the truly remarkable teachers that have poured into Providence and Justice since their very first years of preschool. Not once have I engaged a teacher that wasn’t willing to meet with me, listen to me, and partner with me. They gain my trust by empathizing and affirming me as a mother. They champion and challenge my kids in ways I can’t, and they do it with such love and enthusiasm. Some of them have become dear friends of mine. My children talk more about their teachers than any school activity or assignment because it’s the teachers that make the most lasting impact on their day. As adults when we remember our school days, can’t we say the same?

I often watch interviews with celebrities, successful business managers, authors, or leaders in which they discuss a decision they made that was life-altering, or advice they were given that changed the course of their career. It’s always thanks to a teacher. It usually begins with the words, “I’ll never forget,” as they reflect on a beloved teacher or professor that devoted their time to helping them somewhere along the way. I always pray that the teacher is listening or watching, wherever they are in the world. I can think of nothing more rewarding than to see what their former student is doing now, and to know they took some small part in their success. I wish I knew where my favorite teachers were now. I wish I could tell them how much I appreciate how hard they worked to engage me, inspire me, and acknowledge me for who I was in that current season.

Mrs. Harvey was my junior high Home Economics teacher. She taught me how to bake, balance a checkbook, and bless her heart, she TRIED to teach me how to use a sewing machine. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but my windsock came out even more pathetically shaped than my chocolate chip cookie-shaped throw pillow. Despite my terrible sewing skills, she still offered me the position of TA (teacher’s assistant) when I was in the eighth grade. I helped her grade assignments, make copies and reset the practice kitchens for students. When I graduated from junior high, she took a position at my high school and continued to be my Home Ec. teacher for the next four years. I loved her dearly.

Math has always been my Achilles heel but there were years I didn’t hate it thanks to teachers like Mr. Joyce (4th grade), Mrs. Madrid (7th grade), and Mr. Little (9th grade). God love him, Mr. Joyce stayed after school day after day to review multiplication facts with me because try as I might, I just couldn’t get them straight. I still need a calculator to multiply my 8’s and 9’s, but Mr. Joyce refused to give up on me and I’ll never forget that. Mrs. Madrid honored me with an award for perseverance. (I think? It definitely wasn’t for grades.) I remember being so stunned a math teacher would award me for anything that I committed to working even harder in class. I didn’t get an A, but I know I felt proud of my math grade for the first time ever that year. Mr. Little gave me a lot of detentions for talking during class, but he mercifully put me to work rearranging desks instead of doing extra math work in the after-hours. He had a great sense of humor and took my distaste for math with a grain of salt. He will always hold a special place in my heart.

English always was and always will be the class that makes me giddy when I see it on a course schedule. I give credit first to my parents, then Mrs. Berry (6th grade), Ms. Bartholomew (9th grade), and Mrs. Damon (12th grade) for encouraging my love for literature and writing. Mrs. Berry provided me with creative outlets. Language Arts and Social Studies assignments in her class were anything but boring. My first year of middle school was tumultuous, but those three hours in her classroom were a safe haven. I remember being embarrassed for her as she cried while reading Where the Red Fern Grows aloud, but now I understand just how much she appreciated a good book because I do too. Ms. Bartholomew introduced me to Shakespeare in such a way that it was relatable. She dissected the poetic language with such heart and enthusiasm that I couldn’t help but fall in love with it myself. (Nerd alert: I became so enraptured by Romeo and Juliet that I submitted no less than three extra credit assignments about it, not to improve my grade but just for fun.) Finally, Mrs. Damon taught me how to be a writer. As an Advanced Composition teacher, she introduced me to the art of drafting and editing, refining my work each step of the way. I never took offense to her red-penned feedback because I knew she was making me a better writer. Some of the lessons she taught resound in my head even now as I write. I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without her. I hope someday I get to thank her.

To teachers everywhere, I pray you feel appreciated in big and small ways, not just this week but all year round. I pray you’re gifted with a visit, a note, or a phone call from a student whose life was made better because of you. I pray the parents of the students you serve validate your work and make every effort to partner with you as much as they expect you to partner with them. I pray for lots of little wins that make the losses worth it. I pray for a kind and affirming word to be spoken to you each and every day, reminding you that you are doing good work because you are.

Go thank a teacher today. Tell them their name won’t be forgotten. Tell them their work is good, their work is hard, and their work is worth it.

“The instructor said,

Go home and write

a page tonight.

And let the page come out of you-

Then, it will be true.”

Theme for English B, (lines 1-5) by Langston Hughes