Revisiting old familiar memories brings us to visit old vistas in new ways! I feel these student handprints to the core, Todd. I enjoy the old yearbooks "my kids" over the years autographed for me.
One of my memories of grief was when a 7th grader was killed on a dirt bike as he crashed through a wire fence. It was horrific to say the least. This event was kismet for me in that that Monday after the accident was my first day back after my student teacher finished her practicum. She was the only student teacher I had who didn't work out well for the kids or me.
It was a Godsend that I was there that day in 3rd period where we all looked at that empty desk up front and decided it should stay that way. We remembered him and the kids wanted ot do something, but what? I explained sympathy cards and brought in some I'd received after my dad died. We wrote and shared notes, and the class agreed we wanted to send them to our friend's mom.
That big manila envelope of love and remembrance made such a big impact. The mom wrote us back, the kids got to mourn as a group, and understand a lesson on the power of the written word!
I am sorry to say I can't remember this bright, somewhat mischievous boy's name, but his loss left an impact on us all. His mom came in for student-teacher conferences that spring andI shared her son's writing folder and gave it to her.
Kathy, THIS is one of the biggest parts of teaching that non-educators and 99% of legislators will never truly appreciate. The value of an excellent educator in the moment. I'm so glad that you were there, and that you have this terrific memory on board. Those are the kind that help us all through the really tough years in education. Sparks of joy in a very dark time. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for teaching. Thank you for being my colleague.
Yes, yes, and yes. No test, no checklist, no one outside the realm of educators who seize the moment, educate for life not the grade, and lead with love will ever understand this phenomenon. These precious moments do get us through those years of "why do this"? Love you, my brother.
Revisiting old familiar memories brings us to visit old vistas in new ways! I feel these student handprints to the core, Todd. I enjoy the old yearbooks "my kids" over the years autographed for me.
One of my memories of grief was when a 7th grader was killed on a dirt bike as he crashed through a wire fence. It was horrific to say the least. This event was kismet for me in that that Monday after the accident was my first day back after my student teacher finished her practicum. She was the only student teacher I had who didn't work out well for the kids or me.
It was a Godsend that I was there that day in 3rd period where we all looked at that empty desk up front and decided it should stay that way. We remembered him and the kids wanted ot do something, but what? I explained sympathy cards and brought in some I'd received after my dad died. We wrote and shared notes, and the class agreed we wanted to send them to our friend's mom.
That big manila envelope of love and remembrance made such a big impact. The mom wrote us back, the kids got to mourn as a group, and understand a lesson on the power of the written word!
I am sorry to say I can't remember this bright, somewhat mischievous boy's name, but his loss left an impact on us all. His mom came in for student-teacher conferences that spring andI shared her son's writing folder and gave it to her.
Kathy, THIS is one of the biggest parts of teaching that non-educators and 99% of legislators will never truly appreciate. The value of an excellent educator in the moment. I'm so glad that you were there, and that you have this terrific memory on board. Those are the kind that help us all through the really tough years in education. Sparks of joy in a very dark time. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for teaching. Thank you for being my colleague.
Yes, yes, and yes. No test, no checklist, no one outside the realm of educators who seize the moment, educate for life not the grade, and lead with love will ever understand this phenomenon. These precious moments do get us through those years of "why do this"? Love you, my brother.
Right back atcha! Carpe Diem!