Mrs. Smith

I am not a teacher, I am a mentor.

There are no checks and balances in my classroom.  I give to my kids-time, money, tears, prayers, clothes, advice, love, etc-with no intention of ever getting any of it back.  I have no need for accolades, awards or recognition; those things are nice (no doubt) but I never demand them. 

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I am not a teacher, I am a friend.

I love and respect my kids-all of my kids- regardless of last name, race or gender.  In my classroom, it doesn’t matter who your parents are, how much money your family makes, what language you spoke first or how smart you are; a kid, is a kid, is a kid, is a kid. 

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I am not a teacher, I am a counselor.

I have bad days, I make mistakes and I sometimes lose my temper.  When those things happen, I admit it (both to myself and to my students) and I apologize (yes, I apologize) because my kids are not mindless creatures-they’re human beings, and they need to know that it is ok to “mess up,” but it is not ok to accept mediocrity.   

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I am not a teacher, I am a mother.

When my kids talk, I listen, no matter how asinine their problems may seem to me.  I do my best to “get on their level” so they feel safe when they are in my care.  I wipe their tears, hug their necks and pat their backs (in good times and bad).  I celebrate their successes (no matter how small) and I mourn their losses (no matter how trivial).  I attend funerals, baby showers, baptisms and school events.  My time is their time because they are not my job; my kids are my life.

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I am not a teacher, I am an active participant.

In my classroom, I am as much a student as I am an instructor. I have learned lessons watching my kids hold each other while they buried friends and loved ones.  I have gained knowledge from the kids who show up to school wearing a smile (and dirty clothes) after sleeping in a car the night before.  I have bought breakfast, lunch and dinner for children who are starving but never complain; they’re content just to be alive, and they have taught me to be the same.  I have learned from kids who work full time to support their families, kids who transport relatives to and from medical treatments, kids who suffer from depression, kids who battle with addiction and kids who sleep in class because they have no bed at home.   Their strength in the face of adversity has helped to make me stronger and I am humbled by their ability to show respect to adult individuals who show them none.  I have witnessed children whom I felt would amount to nothing, prove me wrong, and find success in their post high school life.   I have developed patience, a sense of humor, compassion and humility; all because of my kids.   

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I am not a teacher, I am a facilitator.  

I start every new year by telling my classes that I do not work for the district or my campus administrators, I work for them; my kids.  My classroom doesn’t run like a well-oiled machine because I don’t program robots; I educate children.  Learning in my room isn’t always quiet or clean.  Sometimes, the learning that takes place in my classroom doesn’t fulfill any TEKS or fit into a neatly organized, standardized testing box.  Make no mistake, though, my kids learn.

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I am not a teacher, I am an enthusiast.

Teachers are hired to teach a subject and that is all they do.  My goal, though, is not to grow good test takers or create “yes men.”  My goal is to inspire lifelong learners.  I do not worry about disaggregating data or reading spreadsheets.  I can see progress in real time, with my own eyes, and in multiple colors.  I don’t love textbooks, worksheets, or “busy work.”  Those things suck the life out of amazing content and discourage individual, unique thought.   I encourage talking in class, laughing out loud and “chasing rabbits.”  Education, after all, is about retaining knowledge, not regurgitating it.  

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I am not a teacher, I am a fan.  

I come to work every day, not as a teacher, but as an educator.  I show my kids that I love them; I don’t just tease them with empty words.  I give every kid that walks in my door a chance; a chance to succeed, a chance to fail, a chance to be who they are, not who everyone assumes they are.  I love my kids (all of them) even when they are not likeable and I care about what happens to them at the end of the day, for the rest of their lives.  My kids have my heart; they know it and I know it.  

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I am not a teacher, I am an advocate.

My kids are not lucky to have me as an instructor, I am lucky to have a classroom full of kids.  The black and white rules in the handbook aren’t always my priority because the world we live in is not that simple, and the kids we work with don’t always fit between the margins.  I am honest and open (to a point) with my kids.  I trust them and they, in turn, trust me.  I treat them like human beings, I tell them that they matter and I defend them when I feel they have been wronged.  

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I am not a teacher...

The long and the short of it is; I have no idea what I do that makes a difference in the lives of my students.   Let’s be honest, I don’t even really know if I make a difference-only my students know that.  I do know that I don’t do anything for my kids at school that I wouldn’t do for my kids at home.  I know that when I die, I will die tired, with pieces of my heart spread around the world.  I know that my students make a difference in my life; that they are part of my story and (by default) I am a player in theirs.  Lastly, I know that I tend to take “the road less traveled by.”  Perhaps, that is what makes “all the difference.”