Parenthood

When I started teaching Honors English I nine (gasp) years ago, I inherited an assignment from the previous honors teacher that I still use today.  In the good ol’ days when honors students had to prove themselves and complete a summer assignment, this assignment was included.  Even though our county got rid of the honors assignment years ago (I’ll spare you the rant on that one), I still assign it the first week of each semester.  For the assignment, parents are asked to write a letter to introduce their child to the class and to me.  They are to seal the letter so the child reads it for the first time as they share it with the class.  Most students fuss over reading them aloud and I make a ridiculously big deal about how sacred the letters are and make them pinky swear to hold onto them forever.  I LOVE this assignment.  I love watching them read the words their parents have written about them.  I love to watch their noses crinkle when they read that they are “beautiful”, “funny”, “spoiled.”  I love to know the very first week of the semester what these parents think about their children.  And, I think it’s important for them to know, too.  These kiddos come to me at a very important stage in their development.  Many of them look like adults, but they are unsure as everything of who they are and who they want to be.  They need to hear from their parents or someone older and wiser in their family how loved they are and how much they matter.

This semester, I listened to the letters with different ears.  This semester, I am a parent.  As my heart continues to ache with the love I cannot express for a child that is not physically present, hearing parents gush over their kids is bittersweet.  It fills me with lots of emotions I can’t even begin to articulate.  Megan has always said that becoming a parent made her a better teacher, and I would have to say the same is true for me.  Given the circumstances, I find this a bit odd and when I first noticed a change in myself, I dismissed it.  But, this semester, there’s no denying it.  I feel differently towards these students than I ever have before.  I loved my kids last semester so, so much. Those kids last semester were my salvation.  I don’t have any problem admitting that most days I needed them more than they needed me.  This semester, I just feel differently.  I want success so much for them I can taste it.  I want them to find their niche.  I want them to want to come to school, to our building, to my room.  My work husband/teacher friend (Bynum) said today that I seem very passionate this semester and asked what’s gotten into me.  I blamed it on a recent fascination I’ve developed with EVAAS data(prediction scores and effective ratings and all that jazz), but I think the real answer is parenthood.  Go figure.

Speaking of parenthood, the other day after the last bell, I was making gym plans with Megan when a teacher from down the hall came in seeking our advice. (Ok, he was seeking Megan’s advice, but I was there and you know I threw my two cents in!)  His daughter is away at college, but is having long distance relationship issues and calls home regularly to talk to him about it.  He wanted to know what to say to her and had the intelligence to know he needed to know not what to say as much as anything else.  His concern was so real and so genuine, and it was like he was trying to memorize everything we said to him.  I was so touched and so impressed.  This guy is one heck of a teacher, one of the most loved at our school, and further evidence to me that maybe there is a connection between parenting and teaching style.  I feel I must stress that I don’t feel like teachers who aren’t parents aren’t great teachers.  I was a pretty good teacher for years before thinking about becoming a parent.  I work with teachers who are great parents and not so great teachers and vise versa.  This is just where my thoughts have been recently, and I think I know that I have been made a better person and teacher by having become a parent.  Even if, right now, I only get to physically parent 82 kiddos who are not my own a few hours at a time.