I've been thinking recently about all the things I do not just in life in general, but more specifically in my teaching. Things that I have gleaned from other people. Chants and sayings I remember my own first and third grade teachers using to call us back to attention, that I now use daily in 'my' classroom. That I think of them each time I do it. Memories. Arguments turned meaningful lessons and times of forgiveness and acceptance I now hold so closely to my heart. To my growth. Daily routines I took for granted. Ways of saying things, doing things, living life, sharing. Lessons I've learned the hard way. I have noticeably began to sift these into everyday conversations with my littles, molded into words and ways their little minds can hopefully comprehend. Maybe not today, but in hopes it will stay there. Just as I have tucked away some of the same faded memories and lessons.
Be respectful.
Stealing is not something we do.
Listen to others.
Those are hurtful words.
No one likes when you repeatedly poke their shoulder to get their attention.
Tantrums will get you no where quickly and everywhere with long talks and exhausted, but patient teachers.
What do you think honestly means?
Stop taking things for granted.
I care about you.
I care for you.
You get what you get and you don't get upset.
The world doesn't like liars,
no matter how much it tends to accept them through shady alleys and dirty back doors.
The reason you have a consequence for that action is because I care, no matter how difficult that is for your mind and heart to comprehend today. You'll get it some day.
Your scribbles and colors are pieces of art and that scratch-paper note you slipped onto my desk when no one was looking is worth more than the world's finest diamonds to me.
Fair is not necessarily equal.
I believe you.
I believe you until you break my trust, then we will work from there.
I believe in you.
I am proud of you, of your work, of all your accomplishments big and small.
At the ripe age of twenty-two I am suddenly jolted by how much of my routine, teaching and daily life in general has been impacted and soaked up from other memorable characters is whatever journey this is turning out to be. Lessons disguised as challenges, fears, stubborn refusals. Naive arguments with someone who holds my best interest but from which I simply and plainly saw a bright and bold "no" fifteen years ago, five years ago, two months ago, or two days ago.
There's a beloved expression I've heard tossed around about child-rearing, one that can equally parallel teaching.
"It takes a village."
I have never been more sure that you are not just impacted by one person, but by the village and magnitude of people and stories and lessons that follow you around for life. And in turn, every single action that I do in the eyes of my students is part of the village-size impact they will take away from this stage of their lives,
from me.
Every single day I see the amount of people that come in contact with my students in the near eight hours they are in school, myself included. Then, I think about all the other people they come in contact with. People I do not see. Lessons or punishments behind closed doors. Neglected words, painful words, positive words. Empty rooms, picture-perfect family dinners. People beyond my control. People I don't know. People I won't ever even meet. Parents, grandparents, friends, friends' parents, cashiers, neighbors, family members they only see on the weekend, siblings, step-parents, strangers.
And suddenly,
I am aware that I cannot control the lessons they learn from those people;
neither good nor bad.
I am aware that that thought breaks my heart. Knowing that the little hearts that I have come to care so much about, are impacted either good, bad, or impartially to people and memories that slide across their little paths every single day. But more so, knowing the impact I have, the piece of the village I am. The portion that I do get to make an impact on. What a responsibility. What a wonderful, daunting, powerful, challenging, and terrifying task I have set out for me. Even if it is just a part of the puzzle, even if I am just a single citizen amongst a village of lessons and challenges.
Good and bad.
"I am so blessed to be a member of that village, their village."
Because at twenty-two,
I'm finally recognizing the village that trails behind me every single day.
The village of people I carry with me as I step into that classroom each day.
And I am blessed.
No comments:
Post a Comment