Mike liked to argue. He made bad decisions and tried to make my classroom a zoo. He was asked to leave school that year, but he did come back. We made some break-throughs. Once he found out I like the same music as he did, he saw me in a different light. Once he realized that each day was new, and he had a clean slate, his behavior was different. It wasn't paradise; we still had bad days. But he knew I loved him no matter what. Like all my starfish. We still fought (I know better than to argue, but some days... it just feels good), but things were so much better after awhile.
"Ms. Hutchinson!"
"Mike!"
We were genuinely glad to see each other. I was happy to see him looking well and out of trouble. He told me he had dropped out of school and had gotten his GED. He was working and like his job. We chatted and it seemed he didn't want to leave. I told him to come see me anytime. "But, where?!" he almost squealed. He wanted to make sure he could get to me, should he ever need me.
I want all of my students to feel that way.
I said I saw two kids. The other was a kid who made good grades and was on the track team (I was a coach). He remembered my face, but not my name. He was working his way through college. The conversation was forced. It was clear I had not made as much of an impact. He was a starfish that didn't need saving. Mike was a starfish that... was he saved? He was happy and productive.
I think back to the teachers in my life. I needed saving, but not the way Mike did. My kindergarten teacher was one of my most memorable. Her name was Ms. Ash. And she was amazing.
But the one who really understood me was Ms. Whaley. She was our librarian, back before they were called media specialists. She never had me in class, but she made me feel like I mattered. When she would sign my passes, she would remind me that she loved making the letter K. She would decorate with whales. Her library was always inviting and she spoke to me like I was a human. This was middle school. The time where kids don't even feel human.
I was so awkward then. I remember wearing a pink sweatsuit to school, but the only shoes I owned were black tennis shoes. I am caught between "I wish I had a picture of that" and "just the mental image is too much."
Ms. Whaley never made me feel like a middle-schooler, but like an avid reader who appreciated the fine art of the written word. We talked about books and movies and such.
She was replaced my last year there by Ms. Pop. My heart was broken. Ms. Pop was fun and down to earth, but she was not Ms. Whaley.
Maybe I am that starfish that didn't need saving as much as the next one. But maybe those that were special to me still need to hear thanks. So as part of teacher appreciation week, I would like to say thank you to Ms. Whaley, for making a difference. I hear now she is a principal and is still making a difference. When I hear her name is makes me smile.
I know we don't teach for the thank-yous. That would be like teaching for the salary. But that a teacher, past or present.
A special thanks as well to:
Ms. Kovert (3rd grade Reading)
Ms. Krall (3/4 GT)
Ms. Berry (11/12 English)
Senor Rife (Spanish I-IV)
Save the Teacher, Save the World
