It is a fine line, to balance my care for them, my respect for them, with my responsibility to be an adult who is safe no matter what. I cannot say to them I’m excited for the election results or devastated. I have to meet them where they are and help them feel safe.
Our students were amazing today. They respected each other and supported each other. I didn’t hear gloating or complaining. The students who were upset tried to keep it to themselves. The students who were happy kept it to themselves.
They were what I hope for our country. They were so mature, reasonable, honest, but discreet when they needed to be.
I was late for school this morning because I came upon an accident at the end of our road. The emergency vehicles were there, and I couldn’t get by until the firetruck left the scene. I saw the car, and it looked really bad. My heart jumped to worry that someone was very hurt. I texted my teammates that I’d be late, and I drove on. I pulled over again, realizing that I needed to deal with the anxiety that the scene had instilled. When I got to school, nearly fifteen minutes into our first class, the walls were open for our team time, and our students were all working. One of my students looked up from her work and said, “Good Morning, Ms. Cribby.”
That simple greeting lifted my heart. I have written about how, when losing our friend, my students help me. I’ve written this version so many times. But, how can I not keep writing this truth? How can I not stop and take note of my gratitude?
A former student from over twenty years ago posted on my blog today. She found it through social media, and she posted a comment that was sweet, funny, and inspiring.
The gifts of being a teacher are resplendent.
I love teaching.
As most teachers do, I reflect daily, moment to moment on what I am doing, and what I can do better. I’m so excited by how technology has transformed learning. I have stepped back more and more, from being at the center of the room. I am truly a facillitator of instruction, and it’s exciting and elucidating. At first, it was hard to give up the stage, even as little as I was on it. But now, it’s exciting to see students grapple with problems they identify.
It’s about the process of learning. It’s not about what I can give them for knowledge. It’s not about a content I need to cover. It’s about what they want to learn. It’s exciting to have students approach me with questions, and most of the time, I ask them if they looked at the resources I gave them, and they didn’t, so they move on, and they fly again.
But, all of that stepping back. All of that me at the back of the room, literally. All of that...does not mean I am not relevant. It makes me wonder sometimes, of course. It’s so new. It’s not though. I have always sought to give students choice and to make them find meaning on their own, with my guidance. I just get to step way further back now. And it’s exciting.
But again, I’m not irrelevant. I frame their learning, and I give them context, passion, choice and voice. And I am their teacher, and I try so hard to keep them safe so that they can risk and grow. And our conversations are real.
Gratitude: being upheld to be my best because I am a teacher.
Goal: making sure all the people in my life know my gratitude for what they give me.