The A to Z List of Memorable Events From My Teaching Career

   Twelve years as a public school teacher.  That’s hundreds of students taught, countless piles of graded homework, and numerous report cards.  In those twelve years, there have been certain events, certain memories that stand out and will not be easily forgotten.  Here is my A to Z List of Memorable Events from My Teaching Career.

A   Australian money.  One year, a group of Australian educators were visiting our school.  The gentlemen were very friendly, answering questions posed by my fourth graders.  One teacher showed us Australian “paper” money; money that could be crumpled up and then would magically revert back to its original shape and size.  

B   Mrs. Eva Brown.  I knew Eva from my part-time job at the public library.  She was dignified, lady-like, attractive, and professional.  And she was a Holocaust Survivor.  She was a guest speaker to my fourth-grade class, discussing her experiences during that horrific time, revealing the series of numbers tattooed on her wrist.  

C   Car purchase.  The purchase of our second car was on the verge of completion.  The car was being delivered to our home, and my husband would finalize the last-minute details.  Except, there were a couple more signatures the car dealership needed from me.  And I was at work.  So, my husband and the car salesperson came to school so that I could excuse myself from teaching to sign and complete the transaction.

D   Double-duty.  My first year of teaching, I was the afternoon kindergarten teacher.  I technically taught half a day, while offering assistance and support to the morning teacher.  One day, the morning teacher was ill, a substitute didn’t show, and I was required to teach both the morning and afternoon classes.  Luckily, our lessons were very much aligned, but by the time my afternoon students went home, I was bone-tired.

E    Trapped in the school elevator.  I relied on the school elevator due to a medical condition.  One morning, I entered the elevator and didn’t exit it until about forty-five minutes later when the fire department got me out.  By the time the doors opened and I got off, my heart beat was racing and I felt nauseous.  Now, I’m always a little hesitant when entering elevators, always a little apprehensive when it feels like the doors are taking a few seconds to long to open.

F   Falling off a school bus.  My kindergarten students and I had just returned from a field trip to the public library.  All my children were safe and accounted for.  I was the last to disembark from the bus.  And then I slipped and fell on my backside as I stepped off.  Most of my students were unaware, the driver was concerned, and I tried to be nonchalant about the whole incident.  The next day I woke up stiff, bruised, and embarrassed.

G   Graduation.  I usually missed attending graduation ceremonies because I was still teaching my current students.  However, one year I was finishing up my maternity leave and was able to attend graduation.  I felt like a proud mother, watching my children singing on stage, reciting speeches, accepting certificates, and looking so much more grown-up.

H   Halloween dressed as “Fancy Nancy.”  My best-friend and I once attended a math meeting where we were called “Nancy” although we each wore “Hello My Name Is” tags correctly identifying ourselves.  For some reason, the presenters insisted on referring to us as Nancy, and the name stuck.  We called ourselves Nancy (and still do) and decided to celebrate our new moniker by dressing as the popular “Fancy Nancy” character, complete with curly hair, pink tutus, and magic wands.

I   Interview.  In one day I was called, an interview was set up, and I was hired.  My interview took several hours because of the chaos my principal was required to deal with.  Discipline issues.  Sampling lettuce grown from the school garden.  A teacher needing to report suspected child abuse.  

J   Job fair.  For several years, I hosted a job fair, inviting parents to come in and speak to our class about their jobs.  Each year participants varied.  Some offered brief accounts, some came with hands-on materials, visual aids, a slideshow presentation.  One year, no parents showed, and I desperately walked around campus imploring staff members to speak to my students.  The principal and assistant principal both obliged.

K   Kindergarten.  It was my first teaching position.  I taught afternoon kindergarten to a class of 20, 14 boys and 6 girls.  Before the new school year started, I observed my two kindergarten colleagues, taking notes about their routines and their classrooms.  For four years, I took my “lunch break” from 10:30-11:10 because my students would be arriving to class at 11:20.  My students began to sound-out and read, we counted and cut, we painted our hands and feet, we traced our shadows, we sang about the months of the year, and learned the national anthem.

L   Last Day.  The last day of my teaching career wasn’t the last day of a school year.  My last day of teaching was actually the first day of a new month.  It was pajama day at school, it was a day of tears and hugs, flowers, heartfelt wishes, and mixed emotions.  I was completely unprepared for the school-wide acknowledgment of my leaving, the floral arrangements, and gifts that were attempts at making my health-related departure more sweet.

M   Moving classrooms.  For four years, I taught half-time kindergarten in Room 5, sharing the classroom with the morning teacher who constantly reminded me that she was old enough to be my mother.  The transition to full-day kindergarten meant I would be teaching in my own classroom.  I piled my rolling desk chair high with boxes of books and rolled across the hall to Room 4, ready to decorate without having to compromise with anyone. 

N   Needles.  One year, my students were learning about traditional/natural medicine compared to more westernized medicine.  A former teacher turned acupuncturist spoke to my class about acupuncture - its purpose, its benefits.  To prove that most needles are relatively harmless, he walked around the classroom with a needle sticking out of his hand.  The sight of it was unnerving, and I was positive I would never try acupuncture.  A few years later, I stand corrected as I now include acupuncture as part of my treatment for my chronic medical condition.

O   President Obama.  The election of our nation’s first African-American President was a historic event.  My students held a mock election, and we watched the inauguration together, standing for the pledge of allegiance, clapping with excitement.  A few years later, a different class and I would write President Obama letters and shriek with excitement when he answered us back.

P   Paris.  It was my dream vacation, but with any travel, there is an element of risk and danger involved.  Using the globe, I showed my kindergarten students where I would be traveling to during our spring break.  When we all returned to school, the picture my students were most interested in was the tiny shower in our hotel room and the lopsided bed. 

Q   Quake drill.  Every year schools conduct a mock earthquake drill involving an evacuation of the building and designating certain staff and students as injured.  One year, I was “injured” and had to remain alone in the classroom until I was “discovered” by the search and rescue team.  The room was eerily quiet, but it did allow me a chance to get some paperwork done in the middle of the day.  

R   Ryan’s birth.  I taught at a relatively small elementary school, so news of my pregnancy was well-known.  Many of my students threw me a lunch-time shower, the staff threw me a surprise shower after school.  I worked until a week before my son was due.  However, my son had other plans.  My last day of work was Friday, March 28 and my son was born Sunday, March 30.  Staff and students arrived back at work Monday morning shocked to discover that Mrs. Kennar was now a Mommy.

S   Sweating with fever.  I wasn’t feeling well one Friday morning, and at recess, went downstairs to have my temperature taken by the school nurse.  It registered 100 degrees; a sign she said I need to go home.  45 minutes later I was finally released to go home, after my students were dispersed to other classes and I gave them assignments to complete.  The next morning, my fever was rising, and a trip to urgent care diagnosed me with pneumonia.

T   Rat Trap.  One year, my classroom had a rodent problem.  Rats got into my closets, left droppings around the classroom, yet could never be found.  The custodian set up a sticky trap during winter break, and when I returned to school three weeks later, I was horrified to find the trap worked.  I let out a shriek before summoning the custodian.  

U   Uh-oh moment.  While attempting to carry too many things at once, my grip slipped and I accidentally spilled some purple paint on my black suede clogs.  Luckily, I had mixed the paint with hand-soap (a trick a veteran kindergarten teacher had taught me), thereby avoiding disaster.  Although if you look closely at my clogs, one embroidered flower has more of a lavender-tint than the other.

V   Visit to the public library.  This field trip was significant because I had come full-circle.  I was a kindergarten teacher bringing my class to the public library where I worked during college.  Now, I had done it; I had achieved my goal of becoming a teacher and was sharing a part of my past with my present.

W   Published Writers.  One year, my fourth-grade students wrote Haiku poems so we could enter a poetry contest.  All selected poems would be published in an upcoming anthology.  All my students were eager to participate, and most were selected for publication.  

X   Exchange my kindergarten curriculum for fourth-grade curriculum.  The change in grade level was not my choice.  I had taught kindergarten for five years, and with each year, enjoyed it more and got better.  Now, because of my low seniority, my kindergarten position was taken by another teacher and I was left to teach fourth grade.  A change that meant a classroom move as well as a series of trainings.  Curriculum was miles away from what I was used to.  I needed “big kid” desks and chairs, dictionaries, pointy scissors, and skinnier crayons and pencils.

Y   Yard art.  Some of our most enjoyable lessons occurred outside.  With my kindergarten students, we traced our shadows and compared their sizes during different parts of the day.  For my fourth-graders, we took our new knowledge of triangles outside to draw isosceles, equilateral, and scalene triangles. 

Z   Zero the Hero.  I met Zero the Hero my first year of teaching.  He was the superhero who would sneak into our classroom on every tenth school day, leaving behind snacks shaped like zeros (gummy peach rings, miniature donuts, cheerios) and helping me teach my children about place value and counting to one hundred.

Memories

   My son recently celebrated his fifth birthday.  For my readers who are parents, you know how I’m feeling.  Emotional.  My baby is now five.  

   Along with the presents and cake each March 30th, there are also memories of another March 30th, one from five years ago.  It’s funny, some of the memories that are so vivid, that are so clear in my mind are also so peculiar, so random.

   Here I share with you five odd memories from the most important day of my life:

1. The nurse told me to use a bedpan.  I was dealing with heavy-duty contractions, drug-free, and I suddenly had the urge to pee.  The nurse instructed me to use a bedpan.  I told her it wasn’t going to happen.  She pointed out that my contractions were strong, I was all hooked up; I pointed out that I had my husband, sister, and mother in the room, and I was not peeing in a bedpan.  I got out of that bed, walked to the bathroom, and while my husband stood by to make sure I was okay, I peed.  (It was, incidentally, the first time I had used the bathroom in front of my husband).
2. During labor, my ponytail kept falling down.  In hindsight, I realize it’s probably because I was using a scrunchie bought during my high school years.  I don’t know why I felt so sentimental to that particular hair accessory, packing that in my hospital bag.
3. In the midst of my heavy-duty pushing, someone in the room turned on the flat screen TV.  The TV was facing me, so unless a doctor or nurse was sneaking glances at it, I certainly wasn’t interested in watching the college basketball game that was being broadcast at that time.  (Thankfully, the TV was muted).  
4. My doctor hadn’t arrived yet, and the doctor who was checking me informed me that my son had a lot of hair on his head.  There I am, wearing the hospital gown, feeling pain I had never imagined before, about to give birth, and in my head, I’m thinking, “How does he know that?  How does he see that?”  There was still this sense of disbelief, this idea that my son was inside my body, and the hair on his head wasn’t visible yet.
5. The birth of my son will always be linked to the smells of Triscuits and Starburst jellybeans.  Those were my husband’s two snacks of choice.  So in between words of encouragement and synchronized breathing, he would eat handfuls of his snacks.  At our childbirth class, he and the other fathers were told that Daddies needed to maintain their blood-sugar levels to stay strong for the Mommies.

   Reflecting on my own random memories, just makes me curious about what memories Ryan will hold on to as he gets older.  Undoubtedly, he’ll remember some of the big events, but I wonder about the small moments that will remain with him as well.

Birthday Buddies

My son, Ryan, shares his birthday with his grandma and Vincent Van Gogh.  

He also shares his March 30th birthday with Norah Jones, Celine Dion, M. C. Hammer, Paul Reiser, and Eric Clapton.

It’s an eclectic list.

Like Norah Jones and Celine Dion, my son can sing with passion and fervor, as he belts out powerful renditions of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and ”The Wheels on the Bus.”  

My son is happy to dance and “bust a move” like M. C. Hammer.  It doesn’t matter if his audience is mommy or the neighborhood, as he dances on the sidewalk in front of our home.  He’ll walk backwards and try to moonwalk.  He’ll shake his tushie, reach his arms to the sky, and dance with his whole body.

Like Paul Reiser, my son likes to make people laugh.  Sometimes it’s overtly - a tickle to Mommy’s feet.  Sometimes, it’s a look, a tilt of the head, a scrunched up nose, or closed eyes as he attempts to wink.

Channeling Eric Clapton, my son picks up his toy guitar and strums a tune like his life depended on it.  He doesn’t play with merely his hands or his fingers, but with his whole body.  A chord is played and my son’s feet move, his back arches, his head sways.   

Like Van Gogh, my son loves to express himself with vibrant colors.  Purple-grape sidewalk chalk to adorn our back patio with Ryan’s name.  Blueberry-tinted marker to draw a portrait of Mommy.  Red-strawberry construction paper hearts to cut out and give to those we love.

And, like Grandma, Ryan has an infectious laugh.  A laugh that most often leaves him in hiccups afterwards.  A laugh that makes everyone around him smile and join in.  Ryan, like grandma, is big on displays of affection - arms flung around my neck or blowing air kisses over the phone.

  And though my son may share traits with all his “birthday buddies,” he is most certainly his own person.  A boy who sometimes doesn’t like to receive a kiss and will instruct me to “take it back.”  A boy who, unlike his Mommy, will  put down a chocolate chip cookie to eat carrots instead.  A boy who will put his left pointer finger to his cheek, tilt his head to one side, and says, “I think...”

With each passing year, I am more in awe of my son.  Almost five years ago, this little boy wasn’t here.  

With each passing year, I’m more and more honored.  I get to be “Ryan’s Mommy.”  

On March 30th, Ryan won’t be the only one blowing out candles on a birthday cake.  But he’ll be the only Ryan.  

6 Ways My Son’s Childhood is Different Than Mine

6 Ways My Son’s Childhood is Different Than Mine


This personal essay of mine was published this morning at MomsLA.  Check it out!

The A to Z List of My Unconventional Teaching Methods

   I hope I’m not like every other teacher.  I hope my students, and their parents, realize that in my twelve-year teaching career, I was trying to do something special in my classroom.  Trying to create a safe environment where children grow - their bodies, their minds, their emotions.  I didn’t solely rely on textbooks and worksheets.  I prefered to implement some unconventional methods to reinforce a particular skill or concept or invite more student participation.  Here is my A to Z List of Unconventional Teaching Methods.

A   Arbor Day Picnic.  When I taught kindergarten, I had more time to teach my students about lesser-known holidays, including Arbor Day.  For Arbor Day, my students and I would discuss the importance of trees.  Then we would venture out to our school garden, spread a blanket, and enjoy a picnic consisting only of foods that were grown on trees.

B   Birthdays.  I acknowledge each child’s birthday.  My kindergarten students received a birthday crown and a small wrapped gift.  My upper-grade students receive a certificate and a pencil.  And my students with birthdays during the summer months are celebrated early, before school is dismissed for the summer so no child is excluded.  

C   Cosby Show episodes.  When I was growing up in the 80s, The Cosby Show was one of my favorite television shows.  Almost twenty years later, my students enjoy watching the Halloween episode, the episode about the first day of school, or the anniversary episode where the whole family lip synchs a song for the grandparents’ anniversary. 

D   Desks.  My students walk in on the first day of school with their desks supplied with all their materials.  Their textbooks are stacked, and they are also given a folder, a spiral notebook, and a binder.  They each have a pencil box, which includes a pencil cup holding two pencils and a green pen, a bottle of glue, scissors, and a box of crayons.  Attached to their pencil boxes are name tags.

E   Endearment.  I refer to my class as “my loves.”  The term applies when I’m praising them, “I’m so proud of the sincere letters my loves wrote to President Obama,” and when I’m disciplining, telling the principal that one of my loves was drawing pictures of guns during class.

F   Family photos.  Since I began teaching, I have accessorized my desk with personal photos (something I noticed many teachers don’t do).  First, I began with photos of my nephews.  After my son was born, more and more desk space was devoted to him.  My family photos served as both my inspiration and my conscience.  They were reminders of what was at stake each day - a child’s life.  Would I want someone speaking to my son and treating my son the way I was treating my students?

G   Good morning.  Each day, teachers are required to take attendance.  In most classrooms, teachers call out a student’s name, and the student answers, “Here.”  In our classroom, I take attendance by wishing each student a Good morning, as in “Good morning, Ryan.”   

H   Hearts on the board.  I always write page numbers on the board, within a heart.  During a test, I write the numbers my students are expected to complete, and I draw several hearts around that.  The more important the test, the more hearts.  I tell my students that I am sending them love to help them do their best.

I   Incentives.  Sometimes, kids need an incentive to do the right thing, to behave a certain way.  (Who are we kidding?  Teachers don’t mind incentives either.)  For my students, we use “ding dings,” little reward stickers.  Their name is inspired by the “ding ding” sound often heard on television game shows when a contestant wins.  

J   Jeopardy.  We play a class version of Jeopardy as a way to review science concepts, including the types of rocks and the properties of magnets.  Students must correctly phrase their reply as a question for their table team to earn the point. 

  

K   Keep records from the prior school year.  There was always a box in my school closet containing my students’ files from the previous year.  It was my way of verifying the grades my students earned, in case their next teacher had any questions.  

L   Library corner.  In my twelve years of teaching, I have occupied four different classrooms.  In each room, I have established a designated library corner.  A rug.  Lots of pillows.  Some small chairs.  Shelves of books.  Baskets of books.  Stuffed animals.  However, I notice that many of my colleagues do not offer their students this cozy reading corner, that for me is a necessity.

M   Music.  When I taught kindergarten, I routinely visited the public library to borrow CDs.  When learning about St. Patrick’s Day, my students listened to traditional Irish music, and when learning about Cinco de Mayo, we listened to traditional mariachi music. 

N   Notebooks.  Each summer, my mom and I would shop at local office supply stores, stocking up on enough binders to provide each student with one on the first day of school.  These notebooks, or binders as we referred to them in class, were then assembled on the living room floor.  Colored sheets of paper were designated as dividers, labeled with each subject.  Behind the dividers were sheets of notebook paper.  My students were now equipped with a notebook, enabling them to take notes during class, use the notes to study, and be taught an organizational system.

O   Out-loud dislike for weekly meetings.  Most Tuesday’s, students go home early so teachers can attend “professional development.”  A fancy term for meetings, most of which are either telling me I’m not doing my job well enough or are providing the same information I’ve already heard, and which may not apply to my students.  My students know I don’t like these meetings because I tell them.  But I also tell them I’m still respectful, cooperative, and participatory in my meetings because it’s my job.  So even though they may not like doing spelling definitions each Tuesday night for homework, they will because it’s their job.

P   Pencils.  I provide my upper-grade students with two pencils a month, one at the beginning of the month, and one at the middle of the month.  I try to provide seasonal pencils, commonly found at my neighborhood dollar store.  

Q   Quizzes.  At the end of each math chapter, my upper-grade students take a multiple-choice quiz.  For each quiz, I would select a problem I thought was more difficult or worded in an ambiguous way, and allow my students to skip that problem.  If I couldn’t identify a question like that, I would allow the week’s star student to randomly select a number, and that question was the one our class was allowed to skip. 

R    Red pen.  When I correct papers, I do so with any color except red.  Psychologically, I have been taught that some students regard red on their papers as “blood.”  So I don’t use it.

S   Snacks.  During tests, we call it “brain food.”  It’s popcorn during a movie, Smarties on the first day of school, some gummy fruits just because.

T   Touch.  In the twelve years I’ve been teaching, I have heard more and more not to touch my students.  I break the rule everyday.  I hug my students, pat their backs, tousle their hair, share a high-five.    

U   Unlocked cabinets and drawers.  On the first day of school, one of the first things I discuss with my upper-grade students is the necessity for trust and honesty.  I don’t lock anything in our classroom.  The drawer where my purse is stashed is unlocked.  Our class incentives (marbles, ding-dings) is located at the front of the room.  And I’m proud to say that In twelve years of teaching, I have had only a couple of issues with theft.  

V   Vomit comet.  Technically, it’s the KC-135 that astronauts would fly in to simulate weightlessness.  But, I am a teacher who was a girl who wanted to grow up and become an astronaut.  So I know that astronauts dubbed this vehicle the “Vomit Comet,” and when learning about space flight I pass this bit of trivia onto my students.

W   Weekly Student of the Week.  Our school encourages teachers to select a weekly student of the week from each class.  These students are then acknowledged at our school-wide assembly Friday mornings.  Most teachers make their selections Thursday afternoons, and choose a student who scored well on an assignment, performed well in class, or turned in homework each night.  I select our “star student” for the next week on a Friday afternoon before dismissal.  Each child’s name is written on a slip of paper in a box.  I shake the box and randomly select a child’s name.  I tell my students that they now have to maintain the honor for the coming week.  I tell my students that I believe they are each capable of being a student of the week and I have faith in them.  Students are required to follow rules, complete homework, and set a good example for their classmates.  A child who doesn’t follow these guidelines will lose their honor and no one from our class will be acknowledged at the school assembly.

X   Xerox weekly spelling and vocabulary words.  For my upper-grade students, I provide a typed list of each week’s spelling and vocabulary words.  Some teachers believed I should have insisted my students copy the words from their textbooks or the board, but truthfully, I had more important things for us to do.  Like learn the words, and use the words in our spelling and writing.

Y   Yellow paint.  In kindergarten, I painted my students’ feet.  They chose the color, and I painted their feet to create a billboard explaining we were starting the year off on the right foot.  In fourth grade, my students painted their hands six times, using the colors of the rainbow.  We talked about six handprints by themselves not being incredibly significant, but put together, our handprints created a large, beautiful rainbow.  There was beauty and strength when our class worked together.

Z   Zero.  The amount of student grades that are on public display.  My students‘ grades are their business.  Any project or assignment that is hung in our classroom is done so without a grade attached to it.  My students receive their grades individually, and it is up to them if they choose to share their grades with their classmates or not.  

Trying Too Hard

   I try too hard.  Anything I do, should be done the best that I can.  My biggest, most important responsibilities include mothering and teaching.  Those endeavors naturally always receive a great deal of exertion.

   But the silliest waste of my efforts occur each morning, as I try too hard to fix my hair.  I’m a no-frills, no-make-up-except-lipstick kind of girl.  My beauty regimen (such a militaristic term) is limited.  I shower, shampoo, and condition my hair each night.  It’s part of my multi-tasking.  My hair can dry while I sleep.  

   Each morning, I dress, and brush my slightly-above-shoulder-length brown hair.  Then comes the decision.  Part in the middle?  Part to the left?  Part to the right?  Which hair clip will keep my hair out of my eyes?  Sometimes my “parting” decision is made for me.  Sometimes I wake up with my hair already doing its own thing, already parted on the left.  Easy.  Problem solved.  Except then I try to secure my hair with clips and the clip on one side is higher than the clip on the other.  Sometimes, my hair poofs up after a clip is fastened.  Then I accept defeat and know that my hair won’t be contained by a barrette.  It’s time for me to try a different tactic.

   My best ponytails are the ones I do sans mirror or brush.  The ponytails of necessity, as I’m busy around the house, about to cook and want to keep my hair out of my dinner.  Without much effort, my ponytail is done, and done well.  I try to make a ponytail in the morning, using my brush, looking in the mirror, and suddenly my ponytail is uneven.  One side of my hair looks decidedly higher than the other.  I’ve inadvertently created a mini-mohawk.  I need to get out of the house, want my hair up and out of my face, and I simply cannot do it.  Or do it as well as I’d like.  I take my ponytail down, try again.  I’ve now got what can only be described as a wanna-be-cornrow on the top of my head.  

   I see styles on women in movies and television shows, try to re-create the looks, and can’t.  Hairstyles that look relatively easy to duplicate, and yet try as I might, I can’t do it.  I see co-workers (women I know who don’t have the advantage of professional hairstylists creating their look) with their hair up or brushed back.  And try as I might, I can’t do those either.

   Looking through pictures of myself through the years, my hair doesn’t vary all that much.  Sometimes my Hershey-bar colored hair was a little above my shoulder, sometimes a little below, sometimes hanging down to my waist.  I look at those pictures and realize my hairstyle is just an added detail.  Nothing important.  And it still isn’t now.  

   I’ll remind myself of that tomorrow morning when I’m trying to do my hair.

March 1st

   March 1st was a big day for me.  It’s the anniversary of the first date I shared with the man who is now my husband.  Sixteen years ago, I began a new adventure, drinking a cafe mocha at a local Starbucks, enjoying our conversation, and feeling an initial  connection with the man I have now been married to for fourteen years.

   This year, March 1st, took on an additional significance.  March 1st, I left my teaching career.  I didn’t just leave schools, or take a leave of absence; I permanently resigned under my doctor’s advice.  

   Being a teacher wasn’t my initial dream.  Back in the day, I had my hopes set high, literally.  I wanted to be an astronaut.  Then I took a class in high school called, “World of Education.”  Four days a week, I left campus and spent the rest of the day volunteering in a nearby elementary school classroom.  I was the teacher’s assistant grading papers.  I was the interventionist giving extra help to a child struggling with long division.  I was the tutor, reviewing flashcards with a child learning English.  And I was the one-on-one assistant for a special boy named Silas.  Silas wasn’t easy to work with, for many reasons.  But we made it work.  I got through to him.  And he got through to me.  I decided I wanted to teach.

   I was fortunate to have spent my entire teaching career in a small, neighborhood, public school.  Because it was the only school I had ever taught at, leaving was that much harder.  Teaching was never just my job; it was my passion.  My school, my classroom was an extension of my home.

   And now I was being told I had to leave.  That I was no longer able to do something I had chosen to do.  

   My emotions and conflicted feelings aside, I really didn’t think most of the school would be impacted by my departure.  I knew my students would be saddened, and concerned - who would give them “brain food” during tests and tell them they were loved.    But, I had erroneously assumed that school would go on.  After all, teaching is largely a thankless job.  For twelve years, I had worked to provide my students with a safe, nurturing environment for them to learn and grow.  Each day, my number one goal was to keep them each healthy and safe.  And I did it, day after day, for twelve years, most of which went un-thanked.

   I taught with my heart and soul because I believed that was the only way to teach.  I was being entrusted with other people’s children, after all; a responsibility I did not take lightly.  I taught with 100% dedication because it was the right thing to do.  I did it without fanfare or acknowledgement.

  Until March 1st.  For the first time in my teaching career, I really knew how much I had touched others.   School-wide, I was acknowledged and celebrated.  Flowers and generous gifts, hugs and tears, kind words and thoughtful thank you’s.  I was humbled, and overwhelmed, and truly touched.  

   Teaching was never easy, and truthfully, seemed to become harder and less pleasurable each year.  Yet I never would have left if not for my doctor.  

   I may not have left the way I would have liked, but I left knowing I had succeeded - I had made a difference.  

   March 1st is now another new beginning, a new adventure awaiting to start.  It was an ending, but also a beginning.  Change can be intimidating, my medical condition scares me, but I know, undoubtedly, that I am loved and appreciated and those feelings will support me on this new adventure of mine.