Sometimes, teaching hurts. I am “that” teacher, the one who cares so much about my students that when they hurt, so do I. This year, my heart has wept along with my students’. I wonder how other teachers manage and balance everything, while I get lost in the love of what I do and whom I do it for, this year I found myself deeply hurt.
Just before spring break, one of the children in my class experienced the deepest loss, the loss of a parent. I struggled with the loss of my grandparents and it took me a significant amount of time to “learn to live” without them. I could not begin to imagine what my little guy was going through or what was about to come.
I started (internally) comparing my grief process to what his may look like. I was so wrong. I tried to anticipate what he might be like when he returned to school, I was again, so wrong. I wept as I shared with the other kids the sad news and continued to have moments of tears in the days that followed, as did they. The days and weeks that followed taught me so much. He returned to school and continues to inspire me with his coping and his processing of the life event he is walking through. We no longer weep – we celebrate and cherish memories. We talk about his dad, we laugh about things his dad would say and do. He hopes his beanstalk grows to heaven so he can see his dad and talk to him again. “I know it won’t happen, but it would be neat.”
My students reminded me of the power of the community we had established. That we were in a safe and supportive place where we live out “real” and accept each other for who we are and what we are going through. I could never have known just how important this groundwork was going to be, until we needed it this year. My students rose up and showed love. My students gave him space, invited him into play when they sensed he was ready and respected him when he indicated he needed time alone. My students made him cards with the most personal, intimate, caring messages. My students displayed a deep love and compassion I knew they were capable of but did not know would be so profound and personal at such a young age.
I am that teacher who loves my students and chooses to risk it all. I am that teacher who cares so deeply that I will give my heart and emotion and be real with them, allowing for real world learning and understanding to take place in a deeply vulnerable way. It comes at a cost. It comes with some rewards I get to see, and so much more that I believe I will never really know but have had the privilege of being part of.
Our community is built on trust, openness, communication, being real and honesty. From them, and me. I am that teacher, who in the last 3 months has learned more about life and living than perhaps I have ever really understood in all my years. My students teach me everyday, and even though sometimes it hurts, it is always worth it.
Just before spring break, one of the children in my class experienced the deepest loss, the loss of a parent. I struggled with the loss of my grandparents and it took me a significant amount of time to “learn to live” without them. I could not begin to imagine what my little guy was going through or what was about to come.
I started (internally) comparing my grief process to what his may look like. I was so wrong. I tried to anticipate what he might be like when he returned to school, I was again, so wrong. I wept as I shared with the other kids the sad news and continued to have moments of tears in the days that followed, as did they. The days and weeks that followed taught me so much. He returned to school and continues to inspire me with his coping and his processing of the life event he is walking through. We no longer weep – we celebrate and cherish memories. We talk about his dad, we laugh about things his dad would say and do. He hopes his beanstalk grows to heaven so he can see his dad and talk to him again. “I know it won’t happen, but it would be neat.”
My students reminded me of the power of the community we had established. That we were in a safe and supportive place where we live out “real” and accept each other for who we are and what we are going through. I could never have known just how important this groundwork was going to be, until we needed it this year. My students rose up and showed love. My students gave him space, invited him into play when they sensed he was ready and respected him when he indicated he needed time alone. My students made him cards with the most personal, intimate, caring messages. My students displayed a deep love and compassion I knew they were capable of but did not know would be so profound and personal at such a young age.
I am that teacher who loves my students and chooses to risk it all. I am that teacher who cares so deeply that I will give my heart and emotion and be real with them, allowing for real world learning and understanding to take place in a deeply vulnerable way. It comes at a cost. It comes with some rewards I get to see, and so much more that I believe I will never really know but have had the privilege of being part of.
Our community is built on trust, openness, communication, being real and honesty. From them, and me. I am that teacher, who in the last 3 months has learned more about life and living than perhaps I have ever really understood in all my years. My students teach me everyday, and even though sometimes it hurts, it is always worth it.
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