Tomorrow begins my twenty-second year in education, my nineteenth year in public schools, my second year in middle school. I've taught more students than I can count. I've worked for seven principals, had countless colleagues. There have been highs and lows, but I am so glad that back in 1995 I decided to turn towards education and away from law school. My bank account might be richer, but my heart would not.
Through my students, I have become immortal. Long after I am gone, they will remember me. Hopefully I will make a positive impact that lasts. What I never forget, however, is that they give me far more than I've given them.
They've showed me what true resilience looks like. My students are braver than any adults I know. They've been dealt some pretty crappy hands, but their dogged persistence makes me sit back in awe.
My students have a kindness that knows no depths. While the world becries their selfishness, I have seen their selflessness. Kids whispering to me that they want to buy a classmate school supplies, donating to a cause they believe in, sending me cards when I have lost a loved one, bringing me flowers and doling out hugs when my dog passed.
From Kindergarten to middle school, these kids cheer me up, make me feel better when I'm sick, and become obsessed with favorite books right along with me. They make going to work each and every day something that I look forward to.
And on the days where I feel like I've failed, want to drop my head on my desk and cry, wonder where I've gone wrong; they are always the bright spot to remind me that I've done more right than wrong. That the only path forward is one of dogged persistence. And I get up, and try again.
In twenty-two years I've learned over 2000 names, 2000 stories. My heart has been broken and healed, time and time again. Tomorrow I'll wake up, head into school, hug some former kids, and meet my new school family. I cannot wait.
It's going to be a great year.
