The Waiting Walk

Written for my teacher friends – and I’m sure that others of you can relate as well to much of this. We have two weeks left. Two weeks…

We’re tired.

The year has been long.  Many teachers say this year was more challenging than normal.  Many of us feel like the undesirable behaviors that we experienced in our classrooms this year were more prevalent than in past years.  We’ve been doing a lot of classroom talks about healthy behaviors, and a lot of individual talks about unhealthy behaviors.  It is wearing on us. Not simply because we don’t like dealing with behaviors (though the thought has crossed our minds that it would be interesting to try out a classroom full of only good behaviors for a day or two), but mostly it wears on us because we care.  We care about the future of this child.  We care about the kind, or unkind, habits they are developing. We care about how those habits will affect their future relationships.  Their future academics.  Their future successes.  We want such good thing for them.  And so it has been challenging to have to address these behaviors so often.

We’re emotionally frayed. 

It’s been a year.  A year of watching that struggling child struggle still. A year of marking that absent status for those two students at a much higher occurrence than is healthy.  Of feeling frustrated that this child doesn’t understand the basics not because they struggle academically, but because they just weren’t here to get the content.  We can do a lot with a child who struggles – we can’t do anything if they don’t show up.  And it’s not their fault.  And if the child who struggles is ALSO the child who doesn’t show up, the level of exhaustion and emotional overwhelm is that much higher.  For us.  Not because it’s our grade on the line. No.  It’s emotionally overwhelming because we care.  We wanted so bad to be able to move that child along just a little further on the continuum of learning.  We might not be able to move them ahead three grade levels, but we wanted the opportunity to at least move them one.  We weren’t even granted that, because they simply weren’t here. That is emotionally draining.

Our flexibility is being tested.  

Just a few weeks left.  Most of us have thrown out the lesson plans by now and are down to the lists.  In the last few days and weeks, with the crazy schedules of end-of-school-year events and traditions, what do we absolutely need to get done?  What are our essentials?  When we have a short ten minutes or a long hour, how will we spend it?  Suddenly the theoretical three weeks left of school turns into a reality of only 10-15 hours of meaningful instructional time and a whole lot of managing the crazy during the rest.  About now is when we try not to panic. We’re only partially successful.  And we are feeling so stretched that if the end of the year wasn’t literally around the corner, we’re pretty sure we’d break.

We are getting close to empty. 

This year has taken its toll on us.  Because teachers are people too.  And people get tired.  Sick.  People lose family and friends close to them.  We have logistical, relational, and financial gymnastics that we’ve had to perform in our personal lives, and it has taken its toll.  We’ve given and given at church, at home, with friends, and sometimes we’ve been left hanging there, without anyone giving back.  And some days it just feels like we’ve poured out more than we had to start with, and there is just nothing left to give.  The cup is empty. But we still have to teach.

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But on those days, these end-of-year days, let’s not forget the other stuff too.

We are tired.  But when we see that student, the one we’ve talked to so many times this year, do something kind for a classmate, it invigorates us.  When we overhear one student telling another that they’re sorry and then forgiveness being offered – all without our intervention, a peace comes flooding into our souls.  When we watch a student patiently offering legitimate help to another who doesn’t quite get it yet, we are inspired.

We are emotionally frayed. But when that fellow teacher reaches out and gives us that hug, asks us how that thing is going that we are dealing with, it’s like a breath of fresh air.  When our student looks us in the eye and says good morning and you can see that YOU have brightened their day already, just by showing up, it takes those frayed edges and smooths them down, boosting our souls.

We feel like we are getting pulled in so many directions, stretched too thin, but then we realize we aren’t alone.  We are rushing and hurrying but another teacher with a similar schedule takes two seconds and we work out a break for both of us.  It’s crazy this time of year, but we are in this together.  We are not alone.  We have each other.  It allows us to bend just that much further without the fear of actually snapping. That’s a good thing.

We may feel close to empty.  The days are hard, the emotions harder, but then there’s that email.  That note from a parent.  That comment as they drop off their child or a lunch.  They appreciate us.  All we’ve done for their kid.  They’ve seen us bending over backwards.  They’ve watched us pour and pour and pour out some more.  They’ve noticed the bags under our eyes, and how we keep showing up anyway.  They see it.  Our students see it too.  “Thanks for helping me learn so much this year.”  “You’re my favorite teacher ever…” And just that one comment, or note, fills up our cup just enough.  Just enough to allow us one more day of being able to pour out into another child.  Into a peer.  Into our own exhaustion.  Knowing we are seen, heard, and cared about – this is how cups get filled! 

It’s the end of the year.  But let’s take some precious moments to see reality.  To lift up another teacher who is just as tired as you are.  To celebrate that kid who learned a whole lot anyway, despite not being privileged enough to show up each day.  To remember the look on the face of the child who adores you – that kid who has been dreaming of being in your class for at least the last two years, and now that dream is almost over… To just be present in the moments of that crazy schedule and enjoy the snippets of time, of relationship, of growth as they come.  To take a moment and fill the cup of another person – and in that process, realize our cup is being filled as well.

It’s the end of another year.  But it was worth it.  Because in the end it’s not about the math, the science, the reading, or the grades.  It’s about the impact on another life.  The relationships formed.  The connections that our students were able to make to Jesus because of their interactions with us.  And we realize we have become better humans in this process as well.  

What a blessing.  

What a gift.

Let’s make these last few days count!