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Letter to bitchy me

Dear you, yes, you. Don’t you roll your eyes or be fed up. Listen. Sit. Breathe.

Remember who you are. Remember who you want to be. You are a teacher. You teach two subjects you love, and values you stand for. You teach passionately and with humour. You often laugh with students. You enjoy seeing (some of them) grow. You walk a part of their way with them, and let them go with affection when the time has come.

You like that students still can surprise you, always, with wit and diligence and by being unique. You enjoy seeing them having fun in class, playing games and being creative. You like testing their knowledge with exams designed to challenge them, and to play to their strengths. You like varying methods and them following you along into unknown waters, trusting you in your classroom. You like when they leave your classroom proud of what they have accomplished that day.

You encourage and you push, because you care, not because you get more when you do. You know who you are. You are part of them finding out who they are. You know when you are right, and you know when you are wrong, and that being right does not always mean something. You hope they still know right from wrong because you lead by example. You learn from your mistakes, in the lesson, as a form teacher, as an employee, as a person. You try to be better and do better. You care. You have a soft heart and a hard line you draw, because setting boundaries means you care.

So yeah, be bitchy today. Call him names. Curse the system. Curse the ones that stand for it, that do not follow the laws they made. Curse your colleagues who do nothing. Be angry at yourself for caring, for trying to do the right thing, for failing. For not being able to not care. Curse yourself, and know this.

It does not change who you are. They can not change you. You know who you are.
And tomorrow, you go back to school and teach. And you are there. And you care. And you laugh with your students, and you smile because you love your job, and you love being a teacher.

At the end of the day, what a teacher is means more than what she teaches. You know.

P.S.: Thanks to the teachers that taught me more by being more, by bringing a part of themselves to our classroom, by caring. Thanks to my Mum for being that kind of teacher, too.

Author: carasmelody

daydreamer, hopelessly hopeful, I love the power of words, I love poems, words are soulfood

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