“I don’t know how you do it!” “What do you mean you have to work all weekend from home?” “You have to do WHAT now?”
I hear comments like these all the time. Some are said with a feeling of awe, and others said with confusion. By far, the comment I hear the most is “I don’t know how you do it.” I’ll be honest; there are some days where I don’t know how I pull it off either. There are days where I run out of school like the building is on fire, and I can’t wait to escape. However, there are days where I get into a groove making and creating things for my classroom, and I have to kick myself out by 5pm. I find it’s a difficult balance at times to keep myself from burning out. Catch me at the beginning or end of the year, and I’ll tell you I feel like one of those plate-spinners and I’m waiting for the first plate to fall while I try my best to keep them all going! (Teachers reading this know EXACTLY the feeling I’m describing.) So, I don’t always know HOW I do it, but I do know WHY I do what I do…
I teach for *Larry. Larry was a student that I had for two (!!) extremely challenging years. He was a student that would lie on the floor under the table when asked to do something that he didn’t want to. He was that kid that would look me straight in the eyes as he ripped his journal in half because he ‘didn’t have any ideas’. He was the boy that during a particularly awful temper tantrum (at 8:30am), he tore through the classroom like a tornado- toppling bookshelves, tables, chairs, and piles of paper as he went. Larry was also that boy that could be so sweet and touch your heart with one hug and apology of “I’m so sorry”, after said tantrum. He was a product of a mother that abandoned him as a toddler with a father that believed in harsh punishment, and he was terrified that his teacher (the only positive woman in his life) was going to leave. I teach for him.
I teach for *Alicia. Alicia was a darling girl that was just a sweet as could be, yet could barely recognize any of her letters by the beginning of 1st grade. It was as though she’d never even heard of the alphabet prior to school starting- actually, like she’d never been to kindergarten. She wore the same clothes every single day… because her mother was heading back to prison for the second time for battery and possession charges. We worked hard to have her reading on grade-level by the end of the year, and I gave her clothes when I could. I teach for her.
I teach for *Avery. Avery was a second language learner, and started off the beginning of school year determined to set her plans for college into action. She asked questions; she did extra homework; she worked harder than most kids I’ve ever known, and showed great promise. She was also raped by a relative while on a school break… My heart breaks for, and I teach for *Avery.
I teach for *James. James would come to school with barely any homework ever done. He was argumentative one minute, and exhausted and falling asleep the next. No one at home ever answered the door, or the phone. One day, I discovered that every night he went with his mother while she worked for 6pm-3am shift at the local convenience store. I saw him in laying on the floor, sleeping when I discovered what was happening. I teach for him.
These are only a very small sampling of students that I have taught, and I’m sure there will be hundreds more just like them. As teachers, we hold each of these students in our hearts, and carry them along with us- never to be forgotten. Here’s a suggestion- If you have a minute to spare, ask a teacher in your life not HOW, but WHY they do what they do. I bet they have their own *Larry, Alicia, Avery, and James in their own lives.
**All names have been changed.**
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