On Teaching

I'm pretty sure I have the best job in the world. I love it--after 7 years, I still love it. Oh, there are things that drive me nuts, to be sure. But the good parts... well, I should write a book.

Like today. One of my newcomers this year (such a cutie...you see him in the hall and just want to squeeze his cheeks. Always smiling.) was whining this morning, "Mrs. P, why is this SO HARD??? Getting so smart hurts my head. Can't you just love me for ME?" I get so tickled, because sure I love him for him, but my job is so much more fun than that. I also get to teach him the skills that will ensure that he doesn't have to get by on love when he's grown. Most of my guys go through a time where they're complaining because I actually make them work.

Then, though, they grow into 5th graders. Something magical happens in that summer between 4th and 5th grades. By then, I've usually had them a few years. I was looking at my afternoon block of kiddos, and 3 of them have been mine since 2nd grade. We were discussing the purposes of narrative article writing, and they were just nailing it. I felt like I was watching a pinball machine, as ideas bounced around the room and the energy mounted with ideas for their own pieces. This is the part I love. We come everyday, and we invest in this little community where each of us has a role and learning is expected. Everyone contributes. And at the end of our time together in elementary school, we have these little readers, and writers, and thinkers, and doers. There's just nothing like it.

Every year, I think this class is my best yet. I miss them when they move on to middle school, and I think there will never be another group quite as special as this group. There won't be, really. Each is irreplaceable. Some of these current kids brought me milk when I was pregnant (to make the baby strong), and all of them saw me cry after Neeny died and when Freak died in Freak the Mighty. They all know that I won't let them call out, that I expect them to be honest, and that I will snort milk out my nose if they can quote The Watsons Go To Birmingham, 1963 at just the right time. I've seen them lose teeth, lose friends, lose their minds, and find it all again. My heart swells when they read their writing for their parents and peers at our writer's exhibition, and get a lump every year when the "Eagle pride" song is played at their 5th grade graduation. It's hard not to be optimistic about the world when you get to work with 5th graders.

So to my friend with the aching noggin': Yeah. It's hard. But anything worth doing always is.