I can't take their work off the walls. With two days left my classroom still looks as if we have all the time in the world, but we don't. On Thursday our journey ends and a new one begins for these incredible 23 students that I have been lucky enough to call my kids. When I am asked what I am passionate about, many people assume technology, or writing, or math. Sure, I love all of those things, they are interesting, they even sometimes excite me. But passions? I am passionate about my students.
These children are given to me on loan and it is my job to make sure they still love school when I am done with them. It is my job to ensure that they still love learning when this year is over and that they, in fact, have grown not just academically but personally as well. I am passionate about them because they are the reason why teaching is the best job in the world and also the most heartbreaking.
We invest our hearts every year. Our dreams, our hopes, our ideas. And we hope to plant a tiny seed within our students knowing that they matter, that we care, that their sheer presence makes a difference for us and everyone else. That passion consumes me. When the end of the year arrives, I know I have to let go. I know they are no longer ming but someone else's. It is someone else's turn to become passionate about these kids and I get new ones to focus on. Yet my heart grows wider after the sadness leaves and I know that these students will in some way always be mine, or at least their 4th grade version will be.
These children are given to me on loan and it is my job to make sure they still love school when I am done with them. It is my job to ensure that they still love learning when this year is over and that they, in fact, have grown not just academically but personally as well. I am passionate about them because they are the reason why teaching is the best job in the world and also the most heartbreaking.
We invest our hearts every year. Our dreams, our hopes, our ideas. And we hope to plant a tiny seed within our students knowing that they matter, that we care, that their sheer presence makes a difference for us and everyone else. That passion consumes me. When the end of the year arrives, I know I have to let go. I know they are no longer ming but someone else's. It is someone else's turn to become passionate about these kids and I get new ones to focus on. Yet my heart grows wider after the sadness leaves and I know that these students will in some way always be mine, or at least their 4th grade version will be.
