I know I haven't had a long insightful post in a while, and there's one in particular I've been meaning to write for months but I just, "haven't had the time."
I think it's really a matter of - I just can't find the right words to say what it is I am so desperate to get outside of myself.
When I was younger (in fact, up until about 5 years ago) I was incredibly good at showing people how much I cared, how thankful I was. When someone did something nice for me, I immediately would try to think of a creative way to do something equally nice. At times, not enjoying what it was they gave me/did for me because I'd be so consumed with finding a way to thank them. Then, almost overnight - something changed. When someone did something big for me - I went from some huge overture, to not thanking them at all really. It's like - how do say "thank you" parents for spending X thousands of dollars on your wedding? How do you show your appreciation when someone rearranges their life for you for a few weeks because you just had a baby and are so freaked out you can barely move let alone take care of a newborn? So I just stopped. Weird - I know.
I say all that to say that recently, someone I love a lot did something HUGE for me. I must say that my husband is incredibly ahead of the curve when it comes to being romantic. He left about 12 hours ago for a 3 day trip to Chicago and I've already found sweet love notes in my sock drawer, bathroom, and cell phone. He also left some pesos in my pillow for reasons not entirely known by me. But this HUGE thing was not done by my husband. It was done by one of my former students.
I've written about her before - Emily. She became an English teacher in South Carolina. It was her I took off to see a few weeks ago with her family. She mentioned to me in the middle of September that she was working on my birthday present. I e-mailed her that for heavens sake she was a first year teacher and she should be spending her time on more valuable things - like sleep. But, a few weeks later, after a looooooooong night at a Ball State event I came home to find a little packet on my counter mixed in with the mail. I recognized her handwriting (any good teacher can!) and was admittedly excited to see what she sent me. I pulled out a CD with the words "180 days" written on it. I sat an pondered what on earth that could mean - what was happening in 180 days - what happened 180 days ago......and I couldn't figure it out so I just popped it into my computer, figuring it was a "mix tape" or something.
It was a video. The first image was her classroom! I recognized items that I had given her from my own first classroom. My favourite Union Jack flag hung on her back wall, laminated pictures of British poets, even my Shakespeare finger puppet! She was giving me a tour of her classroom! She then showed me their auditorium and introduced me to some of her students! She taped a segment of the play they were working on, and some of their fun acting exercises. (Do I even need to mention I was in tears at this point?) Then I heard her say, "Say hi to Miss Van." Her students were introducing themselves to me! Then, they were all huddled on stage telling me, "You must have been a good teacher, because Miss Reddick is a really good teacher. She talks about you a lot." (Am now in my second box of tissues) They invited me to come see their play so that they could meet me. Then, they all sang Happy Birthday to me. Me! They've never even met me! Here are a bunch of High School kids who have 245 other things to care about - and they're sitting there singing Happy Birthday to a woman they've never met. (I was in hysterics!) She concluded her video with a touching message that said that she touches her students lives for 180 days (DUH! How did I miss that!) a year, and that I touch them through her.
I thought I was going to die. I was sobbing my face off in the middle of my living room pretty much being held up by my husband.
I can't believe she cares enough about me to make SUCH a statement. Yes we were close when I was teaching, and we stayed in contact through her college years, but - I was just her High School English and Drama teacher, it's not like I rescued her from a burning building. I can't imagine what I could have done to warrant such time and love.
My 3 years teaching were the best years of my life (baby year excluded). Nothing (except mothering) was such hard work, so draining, and so amazingly fulfilling and rewarding. I was born to be a teacher, and hope very much to return to it some day. But even if I do, there will never ever be a group of kids like my first group. There just something about those kids who struggle through your first years of teaching with you - who forgive you for making stupid mistakes on them - who secretly like you but pretend to despise you. You form a very weird, strong bond. High Schoolers are especially tough. Little kids love their teachers - they want you to come home with them and live with them. High Schoolers - you have to put on your armor first to prepare for their pointed darts. They are convinced you hate them because you make them work hard. They try to make your life difficult for no other reason than you got on them for forgetting their book - for the 3rd time that week. You certainly don't do it for the instant gratification (or the money).
I didn't know how to thank Emily for what she did. Even now when I think about it - it brings tears to my eyes. I think I ended up leaving her some cheesy message on her facebook page. Certainly nothing close to how I felt, and still feel for what she did. It is I who was so truly blessed to have her in my life.
I used to think that I loved my students just about as much as their parents did. Of course, now that I am a parent I feel foolish for that thought. But, for those 3 years they were the single most important thing in my life. Their triumphs were my own, their losses shared. Now they're growing up, graduating - even getting married and having children of their own.
Delayed gratification never felt so good.
I think it's really a matter of - I just can't find the right words to say what it is I am so desperate to get outside of myself.
When I was younger (in fact, up until about 5 years ago) I was incredibly good at showing people how much I cared, how thankful I was. When someone did something nice for me, I immediately would try to think of a creative way to do something equally nice. At times, not enjoying what it was they gave me/did for me because I'd be so consumed with finding a way to thank them. Then, almost overnight - something changed. When someone did something big for me - I went from some huge overture, to not thanking them at all really. It's like - how do say "thank you" parents for spending X thousands of dollars on your wedding? How do you show your appreciation when someone rearranges their life for you for a few weeks because you just had a baby and are so freaked out you can barely move let alone take care of a newborn? So I just stopped. Weird - I know.
I say all that to say that recently, someone I love a lot did something HUGE for me. I must say that my husband is incredibly ahead of the curve when it comes to being romantic. He left about 12 hours ago for a 3 day trip to Chicago and I've already found sweet love notes in my sock drawer, bathroom, and cell phone. He also left some pesos in my pillow for reasons not entirely known by me. But this HUGE thing was not done by my husband. It was done by one of my former students.
I've written about her before - Emily. She became an English teacher in South Carolina. It was her I took off to see a few weeks ago with her family. She mentioned to me in the middle of September that she was working on my birthday present. I e-mailed her that for heavens sake she was a first year teacher and she should be spending her time on more valuable things - like sleep. But, a few weeks later, after a looooooooong night at a Ball State event I came home to find a little packet on my counter mixed in with the mail. I recognized her handwriting (any good teacher can!) and was admittedly excited to see what she sent me. I pulled out a CD with the words "180 days" written on it. I sat an pondered what on earth that could mean - what was happening in 180 days - what happened 180 days ago......and I couldn't figure it out so I just popped it into my computer, figuring it was a "mix tape" or something.
It was a video. The first image was her classroom! I recognized items that I had given her from my own first classroom. My favourite Union Jack flag hung on her back wall, laminated pictures of British poets, even my Shakespeare finger puppet! She was giving me a tour of her classroom! She then showed me their auditorium and introduced me to some of her students! She taped a segment of the play they were working on, and some of their fun acting exercises. (Do I even need to mention I was in tears at this point?) Then I heard her say, "Say hi to Miss Van." Her students were introducing themselves to me! Then, they were all huddled on stage telling me, "You must have been a good teacher, because Miss Reddick is a really good teacher. She talks about you a lot." (Am now in my second box of tissues) They invited me to come see their play so that they could meet me. Then, they all sang Happy Birthday to me. Me! They've never even met me! Here are a bunch of High School kids who have 245 other things to care about - and they're sitting there singing Happy Birthday to a woman they've never met. (I was in hysterics!) She concluded her video with a touching message that said that she touches her students lives for 180 days (DUH! How did I miss that!) a year, and that I touch them through her.
I thought I was going to die. I was sobbing my face off in the middle of my living room pretty much being held up by my husband.
I can't believe she cares enough about me to make SUCH a statement. Yes we were close when I was teaching, and we stayed in contact through her college years, but - I was just her High School English and Drama teacher, it's not like I rescued her from a burning building. I can't imagine what I could have done to warrant such time and love.
My 3 years teaching were the best years of my life (baby year excluded). Nothing (except mothering) was such hard work, so draining, and so amazingly fulfilling and rewarding. I was born to be a teacher, and hope very much to return to it some day. But even if I do, there will never ever be a group of kids like my first group. There just something about those kids who struggle through your first years of teaching with you - who forgive you for making stupid mistakes on them - who secretly like you but pretend to despise you. You form a very weird, strong bond. High Schoolers are especially tough. Little kids love their teachers - they want you to come home with them and live with them. High Schoolers - you have to put on your armor first to prepare for their pointed darts. They are convinced you hate them because you make them work hard. They try to make your life difficult for no other reason than you got on them for forgetting their book - for the 3rd time that week. You certainly don't do it for the instant gratification (or the money).
I didn't know how to thank Emily for what she did. Even now when I think about it - it brings tears to my eyes. I think I ended up leaving her some cheesy message on her facebook page. Certainly nothing close to how I felt, and still feel for what she did. It is I who was so truly blessed to have her in my life.
I used to think that I loved my students just about as much as their parents did. Of course, now that I am a parent I feel foolish for that thought. But, for those 3 years they were the single most important thing in my life. Their triumphs were my own, their losses shared. Now they're growing up, graduating - even getting married and having children of their own.
Delayed gratification never felt so good.
1 comment:
Awwww, how sweet of you to think so highly of my daughter! Isn't she wonderful! You have been a great friend and mentor to her~ Thank you!
Post a Comment