Thankful Thursday - Teachers

Once, way back in the dawny mists of time, I wanted to be a teacher.  I loved sharing knowledge and helping other kids understand what was going on.  I was so sure that I wanted to teach high school math that I didn't have a backup plan.  I already had all of my core classes credited, so I was able to jump in with both feet.

Boy, was that a mistake!  My college had a mentoring program where they would pair us with existing teachers in our subjects in order for us to learn from them.  I was paired with a teacher close to campus (after my car went kablooie) and I was so excited to get started.  Unfortunately, the class I was watching were made up of 11th graders in an Algebra I class. They were far more interested in passing notes to one another than paying attention to what the teacher was teaching. Where were the kids eager for knowledge?  Why weren't the kids listening to the teacher?  Was THIS what I was going to be in for?!!!

That was when I realized that I should drop the "education" part of my "math education" degree and flounder around for something else to do with my life (spoiler: I still haven't figured it out.)  But it did teach me, more than anything else could have, what kind of BS teachers can go through.

My next regular dealing with the public school system was when Tedd started kindergarten.  I was nervous, partly because he was my baby and partly because I'd heard horror stories of what public education was becoming - focusing on tests, not really valuing creativity, wanting to pound every square peg into a round hole.  I had been seeing some of that 20 years earlier when I was in school, but I'd heard it had gotten worse.  This time I had a backup plan of homeschooling him if it turned out what I'd feared.  

It wasn't even close to what I feared.  Maybe the boys and I have just gotten lucky, but we've had fantastic teachers every year they've been in school.  Teachers that kept me in the loop, that contacted me not only when things were bad but when they were good too, that understood that kids are individuals and one size doesn't fit all of them.  I've been so lucky that the years have turned some of them from the boys' teachers to something closer to friends.  

Tedd had teachers that understood that the curriculum was too easy for him.  In kindergarten, he was put with a reading specialist because he was reading at above 5th grade.  In 3rd and 4th grade, his teacher knew his math was easy and would give him algebra problems to do just for fun. In 4th grade, all of the PE teachers deciding unanimously that he should get the PE award that year, because they saw how much he tried and he never complained. In 6th grade, his English teacher (who Tedd didn't really care for) called me about some weird sentences Tedd had written, mainly because they were out of character for him.  All of his 7th grade teachers at MLK, and his guidance counsellor, worked with us to figure out what was causing his grades to tank and him to spend so much time out of the class.  Last year, when he was learning from home instead of in the school building, his teachers would contact me to make sure everything was ok and if there was anything he, or we, needed.

Pete's SPD teacher was with him all the way through elementary school.  She helped both of us learn ways to make the world make sense for him.  His first grade teacher would keep an eye on him for his "wiggle dance" because she knew that he would never raise his hand to ask for permission to go.  His 2nd and 3rd grade teacher moved rooms between the two years and took a room with an in-class bathroom because she knew it would be helpful for Pete.  His 4th grade teacher understood his ASD and SPD, knowing which battles were important to fight with him and which ones she could let slide by.  His PE teacher in 5th grade complimented him on his running and has hoped to have him in class every year.  One of his ELA teachers was his touch-stone teacher - the one who would look out for Pete, finding what he enjoyed, and stepping in when Pete wouldn't step in for himself.  Every one of his teachers last year understood that virtual learning wasn't the absolute best for him and didn't get sick of my constant emails to make sure I wasn't missing anything.  The librarian at his school contacted me at the beginning of the year to brag on him. His math teacher this year sent me a picture of the Sonic Pete made in her class when they were playing with compasses today because she knew I would love it.

At the end of the school year, I say thank you to all their teachers for helping me raise my boys to be great kids.  Because I know how much they do and how much they sacrifice for all "their" kids.  I know that they spend their own money, their own time after school, and sometimes their own sanity, to make sure these kids are getting what they need to learn.  They are all stronger than I ever could ever be, being there every day.  I couldn't raise my boys without their help.

So today, I am thankful for teachers that deserve far better than they sometimes get.

Pete's Compass Sonic