Like Forrest Gump quoted his mom to say, “Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.”
That would be the digested truth right there as a middle school teacher. Over a hundred students per year, one class after another, delivered to me each hour.
You never know what you’re going to get.
From who they are today compared to who they tried to be yesterday to who they will think to be next along with all the ups and downs of emotions, it’s like taking two to three personalities on average per child.
And, then, the year is done. You did it. IT being multi-faceted, with all the personalities and feelings that came in and out of your door.
That surreal feeling that school is out for the summer once again.
The work has been done. Again.
While each had developing maturation to bring to the class each day, I nevertheless took on each class as my growing garden.
Cultivating. Irrigating. Planting. Watering. Pruning. Harvesting.
When I asked AI, Steps in planting before harvest, I connected to the following part as a great analogy of how it feels for at least, me, as a teacher, within a school year:
“Soil preparation often involves plowing, fertilizing, and sometimes harrowing or levelling. Careful planting involves choosing the right seeds, planting at the correct time and depth, and ensuring good seed-to-soil contact. Throughout the growing season, consistent watering, fertilizing, and weed control are crucial.”
In this mindset, I come to realize that the soil is like the minds of the children- what you plant into it and how, becomes the telling piece of one’s work upon harvest.
The only difference is that each child’s mind continues to grow even after you. You are nothing but a transient farmer moving into yet another fertile land to cultivate, year after year.
How each become- you only have a part in helping direct.
When your job is finished, this does not entail that the child is. They simply move on.
The students, aided to their cars and busses, with a few being weened off as they lastly try to stay behind just a little longer before they, too, are helped to go their way.
Not all will remember you. Not all will want to remember you. That’s all okay. That’s the cost of being a teacher. There is no ask for love, not even a like. There is no work for popularity. You were just there. In that moment of growth and development of each child who crossed paths with you.
The seed of hope was planted- to be of their purposed greatness, each child.
Middle school is an interesting part of life. Developmentally, so many things change within each moment of their very just barely-breaking through, first decade of their lives.
You know this. You are aware of this. And, yet, you fight within yourself to accept this very knowing fact while trying to get through a lesson without the phones snuck between laps, horseplaying during collaborative works, and lo’ and behold, the talking before, between, and after your lessons paced out to cover each day for the year.
You were there once. You know what it was like to try the try every given… try.
You remember this age. You remind yourself it wasn’t easy sometimes. Too much output and input in the brain, too many feelings going in and out through the heart, too much growing here and there on the body. And, so, the spirit is up and down and all around, spinning multi-dimensionally.
You know. So, while they each try, so, you too, do the same.
They have their part. You have yours.
You cannot wonder if there will be anyone to appreciate your decision to get up each day and show up for them, knowing to spend more time with most of them than parents get to or do.
Your every move, not just an exemplary performance, but carefully, the lines must be spoken of truth and facts. Otherwise, you may well plant something wrongly infectious in each.
Goodness along with the curriculum mixed with respect, honor, and expectations- all that and some, planted while then, manifested, through efforts and works, each moment they are with you. You give of yourself and give some more.
No pain. No gain.
There is “ache”, after all, in every teacher, you know. -Anne Salve (Trademark me on my noticing of that one.)
There is no knowing if you are aprreciated. You embrace not to worry about that for that’s not why you decided to take on the role.
You remind yourself once again, If not me, then, who?
And, then, unknown to you at first, another class suggests to take a moment for their students to write a note to all their current and former teachers they would like to appreciate.
You walk to your classroom one day to find sticky notes plastered all over your door. You smile. You familiarize your thoughts with this very same occurrence in the past years these same thoughtful teachers have allowed students to do in addition to other creative gestures.
In no order and with just very little syntactical errors corrected (you’re instead of your), here are students’ truth written on sticky notes for me this year:
I love how encouraging you are. You are the best!
Thank you for helping out when we need it, and for helping out the school. We love you.
Even though people think you’re annoying, I think your hard work is appreciated and will pay off.
You’re fun and caring.
I know you’re trying your best and some kids are not but there are kids that do try. I think that you have helped a couple kids just get through the year treating them with love, even the kids who have no love, you have love for them in your class. So, keep going even if it seems no one cares ‘cuz someone does.
Thank you for supporting and helping me make the right choices in class. I also wanna thank you for dealing with all the kids you have in your classes.
I like how you push me.
Thank you for teaching me.
Thank you for caring about our education and focus.
Thank you for always supporting me.
Thank you for being a kind teacher to me even though I am bad in class sometimes.
You seem like such a sweet soul. I see all the efforts you put in to help all the students in your classes. Although sometimes I’m talking when you’re talking, I do love listening to all your ideas and thoughts. And I hope you know that you’re an amazing teacher.
I love the way you teach.
Even though you don’t care as much but you’re helping others and that’s what makes me happy.
Thank you for being the best example for me in 6th grade and always giving 100%.
Thank you for everything.
I just want you to know that you are a nice and a good teacher. Keep up the hard work.
As much as I didn’t like math, I enjoyed your class!
Thank you for making me laugh, being there for me, and overall, being who you are. Don’t stop smiling.
I love how you help students and how you’re so kind to me. You’re the best math teacher.
You’re the best math teacher EVER.
Thank you for always caring about my group.
You teach the class well and make sure we finish our work. You always check on us to make sure we finish.
You’re the best.
I love how you push me to do my best. Thank you for pushing me to do my best.
Thank you for trying your 100% to explain the lesson to us. You are one of the nicest teachers I know.
You pack this away with all the other notes and drawings of appreciation students have given you in a large plastic ziploc bag for the year, label it 2024-2025, and take a nice, deep breath, as you add the bag to your collected stack.
Yep. Not all grew best under your tilling, watering, and irrigating, but they grew nonetheless.
It’s okay if they won’t remember you or any positive impact you made. Like one of the rings inside a tree, you were part of each growth.
The teacher’s life in given truth?
You were there.
