School Supply Season

Tomorrow public school begins in Nashville. During the past few days, I've seen groups of children and parents shopping for school supplies. It's been three years since I resigned from teaching fifth grade, yet every August since then I am deeply moved by the sight of children choosing just the right pencil and paper.

My heart breaks a little because I wish I could be their teacher. I wish I was going to be the one waiting to meet them and spend a year of their lives with them. I wish I was going to be the one to take them from one level of education to the next. I wish I was going to be the one that was going to help them grow mentally and emotionally. I wish I was the one who was going to argue with them, mediate their spats with classmates, reprimand their behavior, wipe their tears, receive their hugs, and just love them. I wish I was going to be the one who would be forever changed for having them in my life.

But then I remember why I chose to stop teaching. I remember how my job became more clerical than educational. I remember how I couldn't do what I needed to do for my students because I had to do what was required by the central office. I remember how all I wanted to do was teach, yet on many days, teaching was the last thing I had time to do.

I guess I just couldn't manage it all. I couldn't manage all the administrative, educational, behavioral, and personal demands and still be the teacher I wanted to be. I never wanted to become that "bad" teacher everyone wished would quit or retire, and when I felt myself headed down that path, I resigned. I just couldn't continue working so hard to be the teacher I wanted to be and feeling I was missing the mark. Maybe I took the easy way out - but I just couldn't do less than my best for something I loved so much.

I've never regretted my decision, but I do miss the reason every true teacher chooses this path - the students. I miss the difficult ones, the smart ones, the quiet ones, the struggling ones, the comedic ones, and the ones you think you'll never reach - but somehow you do. I miss them all.

I won't be their teacher this year. But maybe every time I see them shopping, or playing on the playground during my wogs, or on a field trip, or just living life as a child, I can quietly wish them well. I can offer a prayer for them and their teachers and hope this school year turns out to be one of their best. And while I'm at it, I can offer a prayer myself - a prayer of thanksgiving for all those precious children that I once called my students, when I had the privilege of being their teacher.