"You Made Me Feel Safe"

We do a writing/art challenge each week at Johnsonville. It’s normal for some challenges to be more popular than others, but last week’s challenge took the prize for most popular challenge ever. The challenge? “If you were a super hero, then what would your super hero name be and what super hero powers would you have? You can also make yourself a villain.” The three most memorable were Super Cheetoh (who turned bad guys into cheetohs so that they could be eaten), Puzzel Master (who is able to easily solve puzzles), and Rotten Tooth Man (who punishes people by making their teeth rot).

We had so many entries last week that I was still sorting through them this week! As such, I didn’t create a normal challenge of the week. Instead, I challenged students to write a thank you note to one of their favorite teachers as an extension of last week’s Teacher Appreciation Week.
My part in the challenge was to sort, compile, and deliver the notes to teachers.

As I was beginning my part today, I found myself smiling quite a bit. It always makes me chuckle to read what goes on inside kids’ minds. But then I came to a note that made me come to a screeching teary-eyed halt. The note very simply said, “In Kindergarten, you made me feel safe…You will always be my favorite teacher.”

When I think of my favorite teacher—my Junior English teacher—I think of a teacher who made me feel safe. At that point in life, I had just moved from the city where I’d grown up and my whole world had turned upside down. In the midst of it all, through her calm, steady presence, my English teacher made me feel safe. And she encouraged me to write. And writing gave me a safe place. For that, I will always be grateful.

What about you? Who was (or is) your favorite teacher? Did he/she made you feel safe? And teachers, are you creating a safe place for your students? Friends: this is your writing challenge of the week! Share your answers here.

An Accidental Name

For a few short months last year, I had the privilege of knowing a student that we’ll call Bob. Something happened to Bob’s legs at birth, so while the rest of his body grew normally, his legs did not. For this reason, Bob’s primary mode of transportation was his wheelchair. Bob’s hands were strong. The rest of his body was, too. He would participate in music class just like everyone else, scooting himself out of his wheelchair and walking himself around on his hands whenever it came time to move. I enjoyed teaching Bob…and I told him many times that I believed that he could be an amazing athlete. I still do.

Each morning that he was with us before he transferred to another school, Bob descended the bus on the chair lift. For safety purposes, I held his chair in place when he was on the lift. While he was more than capable of wheeling himself into the building and taking himself to class, he liked it when one of his friends, TJ, met him at the bus and rolled him into the building. Faithful friend that he was, TJ waited on Bob every morning. As he waited, we talked. In the process of talking, I started calling TJ, Teej. I’ve called him that ever since.

Recently, Teej did something out of character in music class.
I don’t remember what he did, but in the midst of a class transition,
I looked at him and quietly said, “TJ. What were you doing?”
He very respectfully responded, “TJ?! My name is not TJ, Ms. Deaton.”
A bit confused, I said, “Okay. Then. Toussain.”
Again very respectfully but somewhat playfully, he said, “My name isn’t Toussain either.”
Very confused by this point, because I knew that I knew the boy’s name, I said, “Well what’s your name?”
He smiled and said, “My name’s Teej.” It was sort of like, duh.
I smiled softly and then we all went on with class.

That conversation quickly got lost in the chaos that was the rest of his class—his was the class that I wrote about last Thursday that ended with three students crying because one of them was moving—but I remembered it yesterday when Teej showed up during his recess to show me his recorder. I had no idea that he was coming, but it was a neat little visit and it ended with us making plans to exchange his dollar store recorder for a five-dollar store recorder and a borrowed recorder book. [Teej is in a lower grade; I currently only do recorders with 5th grade. So this plan was top secret.]

Curious about last week’s name declaration, I asked TJ when I saw him today if anyone but me calls him Teej. He said no. Then he added that some people in his class are starting to call him Teej. I said, “Because they hear me calling you Teej?” He said, “Yes, ‘mam.”

I confess. I unashamedly smiled.

There are many days when I wonder what in the world I’m doing teaching. I come home exhausted, feeling like I’ve been run over by a bus, wanting to beat my head against a wall, because it often feels like I’m talking to a wall of overly chatty bricks that don’t want to listen.

But then I have a very chill student who rarely shows any emotion ask me to play an upbeat character education song from months ago because she remembers it and it was her favorite.

Or I have a very hyper student who rarely shows any interest in music ask me to show his class a clip that he enjoyed from Fantasia.

Or I have a very excited group of Harnett Off-Broadway students descend upon my room as a thrilled pack of loud animals and wholeheartedly sing songs that they haven’t sung in weeks.

Or I have a struggling student draw a picture of me and write about how he wants to make me proud.

And then I think about Teej and how I accidentally gave him a name and I think, “This is why I do what I do.”

It’s little moments of light, love, hope, and humor that keep teachers doing what we do.

Just Two Haiku-like Thoughts About Working In The Helping Professions

One
This challenging thing:
More than a job. Jobs pay bills.
Service changes lives.

Two
This important work:
Not by choice alone. Call leads.
Mustard seed of faith.

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If you have dedicated your life to helping and serving others, thank you.
If you know someone who has done the same, tell him/her thank you as well.
Not because it’s a special week.
Just because.

There Is So Much

I’ve been thinking about a school-year prayer guide for a couple of weeks now, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there is so much to pray that I’m just going to make a guiding list of nouns and see what details come as I pray each day. I encourage you to do the same.

Below is the weekly list:

Monday: Classroom Teachers, Enhancement Teachers, Assistants, Specialists, and Coaches.
Tuesday: Students.
Wednesday: Bus Drivers and Office, Custodial, Cafeteria, and Other Support Staffs.
Thursday: School Administrators and District Superintendents and Staff.
Friday: Parents, Guardians, and Families.
Saturday: City, County, State, and National Legislatures and Lawmakers.
Sunday: Church, Denominational, and Business Partners.

Specifically today, I stand in awe of and pray for teachers and school personnel who are also parents—especially those who are parents of children living at home. For their dedication to their students during the day, I am grateful. For their unwavering love for their children at night, I am humbled. For packing lunches or providing lunch money—for cooking supper and cleaning house—for washing clothes and driving a taxi—for sitting through practices and cheering at games—for coordinating family schedules more complicated than battle plans…I am amazed at the determination that I see in teachers and school personnel to not only be great teachers but to also, and more importantly, be great parents as well.

Tonight, I pray for strength and rest for those teacher parents; for courage and encouragement; for creativity and discernment; for multiplied time to do it all.

Tonight, I think, also, of a poem that I wrote a few years ago but recently updated:

Declaration of the Swagger Wagon Chauffeur
1/23/05; updated 9/18/13

Yes, one calls me wife,
But wife is not my name.
I love, I support, I walk beside—
But wife is not all of who I am.

Yes, four call me mom,
But mom is not my name.
I give care, I tend house, I drive a dirty mini-van—
But mom is not all of who I am.

Yes, some call me teacher,
But teacher is not my name.
I teach, I play, I line-lead,
But teacher is not all of who I am.

And, yes, some call me friend,
But friend is not my name.
I spend time, I listen, I laugh and joke—
But friend is not all of who I am.

All parts make the whole:
The sum is who I am.
I am a person who has journeyed long—
I am who I am.

Thank you, readers—especially those of you who are teachers—for being YOU.

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If you’d like a printable copy of this prayer guide, then just comment here and I’ll send you a file.

What I've Determined

I got to have lunch with my long-time friend Angela today. She was able to leave school for a few minutes of her teacher workday and eat more chicken with me at Chick-Fil-A.

As we were leaving, I said, “I need to go home and write my note for the day. I guess I’ll write something to honor teachers since it’s Teacher Appreciation Week. I don’t know what I’m going to write, but I’ll figure out something.” Angela said, “I’ll make sure to read.”

Well, Angela, and each of my other friends who teach, this is what I’ve determined:

Your job is extremely important even though policy makers, budget writers, and many people in the general public don’t recognize it as such. Education is the foundation needed for healthy society, and teachers essential to proper education.

Your work is extremely important. How you do your job matters. How you treat your students and the way in which you impart knowledge is both life-forming and purpose-giving. Your work has the power both to build and destroy.

You are extremely important. Independent of your job and work. Independent of your role of teacher, wife/husband, mother/father, daughter/son, friend. Independent of your accomplishments and titles. YOU are important. All of you. Hopes and dreams. Fears and failures. Certainties and uncertainties. Rest and play. You are important. And…

I’m glad you exist.

My guess is that you’ve heard these things before—that you’ve possibly even heard them this week as your schools have sought to appreciate you. But I hope you can hear them now anew and know that they come from a heart full of love and respect for your job, your work, and you.

When you start to doubt your purpose. When the oftentimes ridiculous demands of the job make you want to quit. When you are so tired that you could sleep for days. Remember that student whose life you know you changed for the better. Remember that passion that made you want to teach. Take a day off and rest. Nurture your spirit and soul so that you can be most fully yourself.

And…know that I believe in you and that your job, your work, and your life make a difference.

Thank you.

Always.