Lovin' My Kiddos!

Almost a month has gone since the first day of school. It has been a month of lesson planning, grading, meetings, and all kinds of adventures. The administration is awesome and the other teachers are so supportive. I feel like I have a whole cheer squad backing me. Jill, my co-teacher, has been giving me rides to and from school to help me after my car accident. Jamie, my mentor, has been so patient explaining absolutely everything to me (sometimes three or four times). Mr. Barker, the science teacher down the hall from me, pokes his head into my classroom every couple of days and tells whichever student is handiest how lucky they are to have me as a teacher.

The best part of all, though, is the kids.

They come from all kinds of backgrounds. My school is Title I, so many of them live in poverty. Others are stable and in good homes. Some come from the Air Force Base and are used to being in and out of a home in a year. A few are homeless.

Some are white. Many are not. Hispanic, Black, Polynesian--we've got a little of everything. 

Some have parents who are deeply involved in their education. Others have parents who don't--or can't--care. 

Some have pretty serious struggles. We have the whole spectrum of physical and mental challenges represented: anxiety, depression, learning disabilities, cancer survivors, seizures disorders, ADD, ADHD, OCD, anger management problems, PTSD... I could go on.

But in spite of everything, they all show up and work hard and somehow manage to smile. I see so much goodness in them, and so much strength. They amaze and inspire me every single day.

I have a good rapport with my kids, which makes my life a lot easier. Many of them have told me that they like me and that mine is their favorite class. I know it's not a Most Liked Teacher contest, but I'm still glad to hear that--it means my classroom is a place where they feel loved and respected. Because of that, they'll do just about anything I ask them to without (much) complaint. 

I love them all so much. Nothing has taught me more about our Heavenly Father's feelings toward his children than being a teacher for these kids. I never pray so hard as when I pray for them. I see their potential even when they don't. I do everything in my power to help them be what I know I can be, what they are only starting to discover. Most of them probably have no idea how much I care about them and want them to be successful, but that's OK with me. Seeing them grow is what makes my job worth it, whether they see what I did nor not. What they did is more important.

Whenever I think of my kids, I think that my Father in Heaven must look at me much the same way--oblivious to all He does, but trying my best to do what He wants. And He is pleased with that. It also comforts me to know that no matter their circumstances, my 7th grade kiddos are in His loving arms every minute. I can be satisfied with my hour and ten minutes of work knowing that He's got them when they go.

 They do sometimes appreciate me, though, and those moments make my day. Little things like "This is my favorite class!" or "You're pretty cool, Miss Pullan." Or this great picture of me that one of my girls drew today:

When I thanked her and told her how beautiful it was, she said, "I like drawing people. Especially nice people."

I love my job.