Thanks again, teachers

There is something about simultaneously having a kindergartener and a 5th grader that makes the end of this school year feel particularly poignant. When I think about how much my oldest has changed between her first and what will soon be her last day of elementary school, I’m not sure there’s another span of years where as much physical, social, and emotional growth takes place. The same little girl who started school carrying a backpack bigger than her body, unable to read or tie her shoes, has in six years time morphed into a tween who is capable of writing research papers and giving speeches.

As she waves goodbye to her elementary years and prepares to embrace more independence in middle school, I’m keenly aware that neither she nor I have arrived at this place of readiness on our own. She has been shaped and we have been supported by the teachers who have poured into her.

What follows is an updated “Letter to the Teachers” who have held our hand{s) from day one:

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Dear Teachers,

Considering the role you play in the life of our family, I don’t think a flower arrangement or a restaurant gift card can adequately express how grateful we are for you and the countless ways you nurture our girls August through May. You are an extension of our parenting and I want you to know your investment into the lives of our children is not taken for granted.

First I want to thank you for showing up and doing what you do each day. As one who has a heightened fear of germs and a weak stomach, I’m amazed at your willingness to expose yourself to illness and injury by casually walking into the cess pool of germs which is your school, comforting kids when they’re sick, and triaging playground injuries. I’ve heard stories about some of the situations you have to handle. When my oldest was in kindergarten she hopped in the car at pickup and announced, “Ben ate too many goldfish and threw up today. His throw up was orange, and it took three men and a big machine to clean it up!! The music teacher says she might have to get a new rug.” Bless her. The rug would be the least of my worries. Somebody pass me a Phenergan and a hazmat suit, please. More recently, my 3rd grader couldn’t wait to tell me how one of the boys in her grade got a cube stuck in his nose at lunch. How does this even happen? Remarkably, none of this fazes you. Bloody knees and noses, loose teeth, smashed fingers, broken arms, black eyes, pink eyes, clogged nostrils, gummy worms in places they should never be… I know you see it all. Your stamina does not go unnoticed.

One of my girls has some anxieties that manifest in the form of fears and tears throughout the year. When I’ve made you aware of these, you instinctively know how to help us help her. I’ve seen you sit with her when she’s nervous about riding the bus. I’ve seen you greet her in the hallway with a calm reassurance when she’s worried about catching the stomach bug. I’ve seen you put your arm around her and gently redirect her concern about speaking in front of the class. Your tenderness does not go unnoticed.

I know how much energy my children have and how that energy multiplies when they’re in a group. But, I’ve seen you handle the collective spirit of twenty plus kids with patience and grace. I’ve watched you on field trips on a farm, in a factory, in museums, at the zoo, even in a cave… you’re calm, you’re collected, you’re interested in what the kids are learning even though you did this exact same field trip last year and every other year before this one. Somehow, you seem to be enjoying yourself?! How does one do this when he/she is in charge of SO MANY people who are overly excited to be away from school and are therefore unable to follow instructions or use good judgment? I have to think long and hard before committing to a day at an amusement park with my three kids. But, you willingly hop on a bus with sixty kids {many of whom have never ridden on a bus before and are literally bouncing off the seats with excitement} and head out to the middle of a pumpkin patch? Or you take the whole grade level to camp where they’ll do things like hold snakes and go on nature hikes for three days and two nights? No, thank you. There’s not enough coffee in the world for that. Your enthusiasm for learning and introducing kids to new experiences does not go unnoticed.

My girls like to ask questions. Lots of questions. And, sometimes they tell me the questions they or their friends have asked you at school. Of course they have questions about science and math, and everyone wants to know what they’re having for lunch or when they’ll be going outside. But, it’s their curiosity about your personal life that is insatiable. They need to know how old you are, your relational status, your family history, your medical history, where you live, where you used to live, and why you wear the earrings you do. Adult co-workers are equally curious, but in most cases, they know better than to ask every question or share every thought that crosses their mind. Some of my teacher friends have told me about conversations that come up during circle time. You have fielded personal questions like, “Why aren’t you married yet?” or “Why do you wear that shirt so much?” or “Did you know you’re twenty years older than my mom?!” Answering hundreds of questions of this nature requires patience, grace, and tact. Your resilience does not go unnoticed.

I love to laugh, but I’m not good at being silly. You know how to do silly, and kids love you for it. I’ve heard the songs you sing about everything from the days of the week to the names of all the U.S. presidents. I’ve heard about how you’ve gone on “bear hunts” and searched the school for a missing gingerbread man. I’ve also seen you dress up like Johnny Appleseed, like a penguin, and like a flapper… like it’s no big deal. Your playfulness does not go unnoticed.

Many days our mornings are hurried and harried. There is bickering and crying over everything from missing socks to missing math books. Unfortunately, there are days when I drop my kids off having hurt their feelings or not having said a kind word all morning. But, this is what I know. Diffusing drama is one of your skills. You can turn our bad start around in an instant. I see you greet my girls with a smile and a “good morning” day after day. I imagine there are mornings when you have to set aside your own feelings, stress at home, maybe a headache, a backache, allergies, a cold… Whatever the case, you have to push through your own issues because a roomful of kids are counting on you to be consistent and chipper and more interested in them than your own affairs. And, so you are. Your compassion does not go unnoticed.

It’s one thing to love your own children. I get that. I would lay down my life for any of my three at any moment. It’s quite another thing, though, to feel love for children who are not your own. Yet, I have been in your classroom, read your emails sent early in the morning or late at night, and talked with you at length at conferences. And, I sense you feel real love for these kids in your care. You wear their handmade gifts. You display their artwork in your own home. You learn personalities, strengths, and weaknesses. Sometimes you see things in our kids that we as parents aren’t noticing at home. You encourage and speak truth in ways we cannot. You know these kids, you think about them, you pray for them, and you challenge them to be their best selves in your classroom, which spills out into who they are at home and in the real world. Your love does not go unnoticed.

As I write this, I have specific teachers in specific settings in mind. When I think beyond our own experiences, I realize there are teachers doing the things mentioned above — and then some — in settings where you may well be the only stable, loving adult your students come in contact with each day. I can’t imagine the emotional energy some of you are putting into your job, knowing your presence and persistence might make a difference in the life of a child. All I know is your job is a ministry, and you are making an impact.

Since my firstborn was very young, I’ve clung to the adage that “it takes a village to raise a child.” And, each one of you is, or has been, a very important part of our village. I know there are people who choose to homeschool and do an excellent job with that calling. We tried a version of that for one year, and quickly found it is not a good fit for us. Basically, we need you on our team. Specifically, I need you. I can’t do what you do. But, I can do what I do better because of you.

So, thank you for heeding the call to be in the classroom. You have become a part of our family and a part of our story. And, I pray the investment you have made and will continue to make into these young lives will come back to bless you abundantly.

Gratefully,
Hollie