Teacher Appreciation Day

It’s been a long time since I slid my knees under a desk, sat up straight, and riveted my attention on a blackboard, but I can still remember the names (and often the foibles) of all my teachers, from Sister Catherine Philomena in first grade to Sister Berchmans in organic chemistry in college. I remember the ones I loved, the ones who scared me witless (that was you, Sister Fulgentia!) and the ones who taught me nothing except patience with their dithering. (No names, but a certain math teacher comes to mind.)

To all these ladies and gentlemen, I offer my apologies…for my youthful inattention, my rush to judgment when your teaching bored (or at least didn’t inspire) me, for my failure to appreciate your sacrifices.  Kids don’t always understand that teachers have lives outside the classroom, that they have bad days, and pressure from all fronts, and sometimes, are as unwilling to be in that classroom as the most restless of their students. (This is where a sense of humor comes in handy.)

Even more, I offer my congratulations. Who else has managed a career that is (in the eyes of most observers) a thankless, poorly-paid, demanding (both physically and emotionally and time-wise)  frustrating job where you are consistently judged by a jury of people who know nothing about education and could (they think) do a much better job of it than you? Forget congratulations—bring out the medals. Big gold saucer-sized ones.

I’ve lived on both sides of the desk, and am the richer for it. As a student, I learned STUFF: the facts and figures and relationships and thinking skills to make my way in the world. As a teacher, I learned different kinds of lessons. I learned about life and how to manage mine and others’; how to cram 30 hours of work (and more) into a 24-hour day. I learned how unfair the world could be for the disadvantaged, whether that disadvantage took physical or financial or emotional or intellectual form. I learned what an influence a single teacher could be by watching my colleagues change lives on a daily basis, simply by listening and encouraging and, yes, by demanding that kids live up to their high expectations.

No one knows what teachers do unless they have been down in the trenches with them. No one appreciates a teacher until they have saved your child—or you—through their hard work, their compassion, their belief in the basic goodness of those they teach. It is not all homework and grades and discipline and classroom management. It’s not all books and lesson-plans and meetings and parent conferences. Teaching is all of these, but so much more. It’s caring and dedication and an incredible amount of tolerance for the crap that comes your way, often in torrents.

Go ahead. Thank a teacher.