Hard

Last week was hard.

For what seemed like the first time in my life, I was trying really hard, but to no avail. The hard work I put in seemed to have absolutely no effect on my output. I was exhausted. My rose-colored lenses of changing the world, one child at a time, got knocked off my face for most of the week, and I began pondering what else I'm good at... that does not involve teaching, children, or intense preparation.

I am incredibly thankful for the people in my life who have pulled me aside, and made me slow down. Who fed me dinner when I had nothing prepared, who made me leave school when I didn't recognize I was stuck in a rut, who lent me their rusty old bike and chased me on roller blades around the neighborhood, who hugged me when words ran out, and who prayed for me daily. I'm thankful for people who know how to give space, how to encourage, and how to love. Loving a teacher is hard.

Each day as I debrief with other teachers, we moan and groan about our frustrations with our students. But we are learning.

We are learning to not just dwell on the stuff that went wrong, but to celebrate their gains and progress, to enjoy our students as developing people. If we only think about the things that aren't going according to planned, we will tire ourselves out. But when we begin to think about these kiddos, their interests, their talents, and who they want to be, the fight for them somehow seems much more doable. It seems impossible NOT to fight through the hard days.

This week I started eating lunch with my kids. Two at a time.

I love the amazing conversations that stem out of this time. The knowing looks and understanding nods between two children who have incarcerated fathers. Their frustrations with not knowing their siblings, and their refusal to call step-parents "mom" and "dad." Two other children who are shy suddenly erupt into stories as they take turns sharing about their favorite kinds of technology, ipad apps, and "teenagers."

Lunch with these kids reminds me why I'm really here. In between bites of my turkey sandwich, I grin as I listen to them argue and interrupt each other, excited to share, but talking as if I was just one of them. The walls come down. They let me in, and then they are ready to learn. As they talk, they wonder, their curiosity simply bursting at the seams. This is what education is all about. What I'm all about: kindling the fire of knowledge and learning through relationships and community.

My job is the hardest thing I've ever done, but it's the most rewarding thing I've ever done.