I didn't know that years of school and a college degree would be
of little consolation when facing a room full of bright little eyes
on the first day of school. I thought I was ready...
I didn't know that five minutes can seem like five hours when there
is idle time and an eight hour school day far too short for a
well-planned day of teaching.
I didn't know that teaching children was only a fraction of my job.
No one tells you about the conferences and phone calls, faculty
meetings and committees, paperwork and paperwork...
I didn't know that it took so long to cut out letters, draw and
color pictures, laminate-all for those bulletin boards that were
always "just there"...
I didn't know that I would become such a scavenger, and that teaching
materials would feel like pure gold in my hands...
I didn't know that an administration and co-workers that support
and help you could make such a difference...
I didn't know that there would be children that I loved and cared
for and stayed up late worrying about, who, one day,
would simply not show up.
And that I would never see them again...
I didn't know that I can't always dry little tears and mend
broken hearts. I thought I could always make a difference...
I didn't know that the sound of children's laughter could drown
out the sound of all the world's sadness...
I didn't know that children could feel so profoundly.
A broken heart knows no age.
I didn't know that a single "yes ma'am" from a disrespectful child
or a note in my desk that says "You're the best!" could make me feel
like I'm on top of a mountain and forget the valleys I forged to get there...
I never knew that after one year of teaching I would feel so much
wiser, more tired, sadder and happier, all at once.
And that I would no longer call teaching my job,
but my privilege.
This site created and maintained by Theresa Roberts; 2000.