Tag: teachers

School Days

“Career OVER. I’ve made my mark. I’m done. We were lining up for lunch. A student gives me a hug. I immediately start joking. Are you looking for an A?! Do you want a candy bar?! She looks up at me and says: You’re the reason I come to school.” (credit: @joypcoffee, Twitter)

Teachers, you are amazing. I am friends with many excellent teachers. And I can still call out the teachers by name who made a big difference in my own life and of course, I can also call out by name the teachers who made a huge difference in the lives of our four children. Teachers, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

The kids in our area started school this week. It feels surreal. This will be the first time in over two decades that I won’t belong to a PTA, or have to go on a scavenger hunt to find an odd colored folder with a specific amount of pockets that doesn’t exist.

Our youngest child, our daughter, started college this summer. She is home for a couple of weeks before she heads back to her university for the fall session. She was horrified when were in a store the other day and the clerk asked her if she was doing back-to-school shopping. “I’m in college,” she declared, loud and proud, for everyone around to hear. At what age does the shift occur when we no longer want to be noticed for being older and more mature? I can’t even remember. That ship sailed a long, long time ago for me. I did feel slightly delighted (and a little embarrassed) when I was purchasing BOGO iced animal crackers and the clerk asked me if these were for school snacks. “My kids are all grown,” I admitted. “These are mature woman sneaky snacks for when sugar cravings hit.” She nodded in full understanding.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Monday Fun-day

Raise your hand if you are grumpy. It comes with the territory of the Monday after the clocks spring forward. Both hands raised here.

My favorite story of the weekend involved “the mystery letter” addressed, in neat, pretty handwriting, to my daughter. It came in a fancy envelope and the return address belonged to a woman whose name I had never heard. I brought the letter to my daughter. She didn’t recognize the name on the return address stamp, either. It made me feel curious, yet also kind of suspicious and protective, too. Handwritten letters are such a rare thing these days. It turns out that it was a thank you note, coming from a teacher. My daughter had volunteered to help pre-cut some craft items for our local elementary school. In all honesty, my daughter did the activity, in order to fulfill her required community volunteering hours, required by some of her clubs and honor societies. Still, my daughter likes to do crafty things, and she did a really nice job with the project, in a timely manner.

The teacher wrote a very sincere thank you note, making it clear how much time my daughter had saved her, so that she could focus her attention on other important activities going on in her classroom. My daughter beamed. I beamed. I am one of those moms who has always insisted on my children writing handwritten thank you notes for gifts and experiences. I think that my daughter finally fully understood why I have always required this act of kindness and respect. My daughter felt appreciated. It feels good to feel appreciated. Thank you, dear teacher, for giving us this very “teachable” moment. Teachers are amazing.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.