Sometimes things just find a way of working themselves out. If you've followed my blog this year, you will know it's been a tough one. I've faced some racist issues in my classroom and dealt with the normal share of teenage apathy. I've blogged about losing my mojo, feeling angst with the first snow, and finding my purpose. I've questioned my career choice and thought about heading a new direction with our move to Minnesota. Today, however, I had a sweet little moment of closure and hope. Okay, I say "little," but I'm pretty sure this will be one of my "greatest hits" on the soundtrack to my teaching career. Today we finished up College Comp II with some reflective writing and heartfelt hugs at the door, and then in a scene reminiscent of Dead Poets Society, a group of eight junior girls climbed up on my tables and proclaimed, "Oh captain, my captain." And then I had an ugly cry. Moving is coming with some Big Feelings, and I'm trying to handle them with grace and focus on leaving well. These eight girls moved me with their final reflective words today, and without even knowing it, they reminded me once again just why I chose this noble profession, one my friend Jennifer described as the most "frustrating and rewarding" career in the world. I won't share my students' words here; they are a personal treasure for me to hold close to my heart, a powerful reminder to push through the teenage apathy and continue always with kindness. So after probably the hardest year of my teaching career, I was gifted with one of the most treasured experiences of eleven years in the classroom. Teach Happy, indeed.
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I am a teacher. For the past eleven years, that title has been official. I teach Shakespeare and sentence structure and the Socratic method. Mostly, though, I teach students. Before I was officially labeled a teacher, I was still a teacher. I played "school" in my basement with a makeshift classroom of stuffed animals and reused worksheets and sample textbooks from my Aunt Rachel who worked at the school. Then I worked at camp and volunteered in youth groups, another form of teaching. And of course now that I'm a mom, I teach every day. Through conversations about relationships with peers and the importance of education, my sons can never escape my classroom, even if they would like a break! This is my last week in my official teaching position at Okoboji High School, and because I don't have a job for next fall yet, I am feeling an emptiness. Each box of books that gets packed weighs a bit heavier; every student who tells me they wish I was staying brings a few more tears. I've only been in my current position for eight years, compared to others who have spent a complete career here. I hope, however, that I've made an impact, however small it might be. If you would have asked me a few months ago, I would have said that our upcoming move to the Twin Cities would offer a much-needed break from teaching. I started looking at corporate training jobs and jobs with Christian nonprofits. I imagined a typical 8-5 job where I took an hour lunch with coworkers and lugged no work home on the weekends. I fantasized about abandoning the rushed 20-minute lunch break with just enough time to warm up leftovers, fill my water bottle, and have a brief discussion of politics with my regular lunch crew. In my new non-teaching world, I wouldn't be responsible for a room full of hormone-crazed adolescents who can't go 10 minutes without checking their Snapchat. In this new fantasy life, I was better paid and better dressed. But the reality remains; I am a teacher. And as annoyed as I get by some nameless students in my English 2 classes, as bothersome as it can be to run to the restroom between classes because I can't leave my 15-year-olds unsupervised, well, I can't imagine life NOT in a classroom next year. So I'm working on my resume and sending in applications and making plans for Teach Happy vol 2: The Minnesota Years. This is a reminder to keep things simple. At parent-teacher conferences a few weeks ago, I had to break the hard news to a mother that her daughter wasn't fully applying herself, her apathy reflected in her grade. We talked about the potential of her lovely young daughter and discussed a plan for moving forward. A few weeks later that same daughter was excelling in my class. She was engaged and active, learning and growing. So I wrote her a little Post-it note that said something like this: "You are kicking butt lately. Way to go!" I quietly placed it on her table while we were reading and didn't say a word. We never talked about it. This week in a written reflection, that same student wrote this: "I hope Mrs. Witt is reading this because one day she handed me a note that said something like 'keep up the good work, you're kicking butt.' You have no idea how happy I felt after that. When she gave me that note, that is all I really needed to hear/see. . . after I finally realized that I need to get my crap together and a teacher realized it, that note gave me a little 'umph.'" I don't write this to brag about myself but to hopefully inspire you. Take 30 seconds today to write an encouraging message on a Post-It note. You have no idea what impact you might have. |
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September 2020
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