Back to School, Dear Teachers

As an adult, I really miss the whole spirit of back-to-school. It’s like Christmastime for geeks. And social butterflies. Both are categories into which I fell. (Fall—who are we kidding?)

Despite missing out on the euphoria of smelling freshly sharpened pencils, I’m able to feel the excitement from the plethora of my friends who happen to be teachers. It’s really a little ridiculous actually. You get them all together on a good beach vacation, drink of choice in hand, ocean washing over freshly painted toes and all they want to do is talk about school—class sizes, budget cuts, this principal and that administration. I typically roll my eyes and change the subject to something like the physique of the man running (oh so nicely) past us, followed by an inappropriate joke or two.

Even though all this talk, to my teacher friends’ chagrin, makes me roll my eyes (which, coincidentally, my actual teachers were none too fond of—hi, Mrs. Fain!), the truth is that I’m thankful they care so much. During this moment of my life, I am writing because I had teachers (and parents) who encouraged me with obscene amounts of praise for the way I crafted words.

I had teachers who took the time to show me how to think, who unveiled the adventures of classic literature with hot debate and pointed questions. I understood apartheid more deeply when my high school English teacher/basketball coach asked me for my passbook in the middle of after-school practice; if I didn’t have it stuffed into the back of my sports bra, I was punished. I was taught that my gifts were valued when my middle school music teacher who (recognizing my inability to sing on key) gave me the lead speaking role in the spring musical.

The teachers in my life cared about me—my learning, my spirit, my growth— a very great deal. They saw what God had created in me, said it was good and called it forth. The lifelong gifts they have given me are boundless. I can only hope that my gratitude will be shown to the end of my being as I continue to learn and change and grow.

And so my teacher friends, I toast you at the beginning of this new school year. I pray for your patience, your wisdom, your rest, and your knowledge. I pray you learn from your students, even as they learn from you. I hope your days feel full and accomplished. I hope that when that girl with the big brown eyes rolls them heavenward because she think you are just sooo boring, that you will laugh and keep going, blessing her heart with your unrelenting insistence that she stop writing notes and PAY ATTENTION! (Remember that she’ll be grateful.)

Thank you, friends, for giving so much of your lives to other people’s children. Thank you, Mrs. Petree, Ms. Austin, Mrs. Jolley, Mr. Jolley, Ms. Biser, Ms. Callahan, Ms. Nordin, Mr. Seipel, Mrs. Jones, Joe (a different kind of teacher altogether), Ms. Young, Ms. Clonch, Mrs. Hsu, Mr. Sheek, Mrs. Keeler, and the rest of you I’m sure I’m forgetting.

Happy School Year!