My People

My People

Who we surround ourselves with tells a lot about who we are and what we need. I married a funny guy. He has a quick wit that never fails to make anyone laugh or at least crack a smile. He can tell a story like no one I know--you need to pay close attention because it’s one filled with so many twists, turns, and circumlocutions that I feel like I am watching The Matrix or Inception every time I listen to him. My husband is so funny that sometimes it’s hard for me to tell when he is being serious. Yet for me, most of the time, he is just what I need to balance my more serious, sensitive self. Two of my three children inherited my husband’s sense of humor. Thank goodness for the middle child who has my sensitivity and compassion. She balances our family out just a little. These people--my husband and kids--are my people. Yet today I want to tell you about a few more of the people in my life who I also affectionately label as “My People.”

I met my people when I was in my thirties. They were fourteen. They were far more immature than they are now, were clueless about literary analysis, and thought that all writing consisted of writing creatively or personal narratives. I like to think I rocked the world of my people when we started to look at literature in new ways in terms of the choices writers make, but maybe I'm giving myself too much credit there.

Like my husband, my people are funny. They have introduced me to the world of memes and make me laugh on a daily basis. They know when the joke is just enough not to step over the line, though.

My people are smart They ask insightful questions and like a good challenge. In fact, my people are at the top of their class. My people are athletes. They are the top scorers of their game. They defend. They lead.

 

Some of my people have no taste in food or music, but I let that slide. To claim that Taco Bell is real food astounds me. Yesterday I tried Taqis and lost my taste buds for a good fifteen minutes. Again, my people are confused when it comes to good taste. Some of my people also don’t see that real music’s foundation comes from the greats--the Beatles, U2, Pearl Jam. But I digress. I fight an uphill battle on this one and constantly remind myself as one student in TOK earlier this year so eloquently stated, “There’s beauty in the imperfections.”

My people are leaders. They are kind, compassionate. Their most recent accomplishment being a website made for Mrs. Hess’ nephew Caleb blew me away. Their collaboration was one of the best I have witnessed in eighteen years in the classroom. One of them even was mesmerized by the videos himself. The final product is something I am proud of--it makes me proud to be their teacher and proud that my people would do such an act of kindness without even knowing the benefactor. When Mrs. Hess called me in tears about the outcome of the final website, I realized that my people may have their flaws as all people do. They may complain about their workload and procrastinate much as of late, but when it comes down to it, they care. They are kind and compassionate people.

My people are award winners. They win DECA competitions and are accepted into countless colleges and universities. After writing close to 50 recommendation letters this year, I love hearing about where my people will be going to college or where they get into college, yet at the same time, those thoughts tug at my heartstrings--thoughts that my people are soon leaving Atlee. You see, I have known my people for four years now. I didn’t get the choice to know them; they showed up in my class as young fourteen year-olds ready to learn. And they will walk out of my classroom on June 8th perhaps having changed themselves, but certainly having changed me. When people ask me what the hardest part of being a teacher is, it’s not the papers, or the meetings, or even planning the lessons. It’s saying goodbye to my students when they graduate and wondering if they’ll ever come back. Of course, I will have new people in my classroom in September, but there will be a part of me missing my “old” people. It happens every year. So, if you find I’m struggling these last few months, it’s because I don’t know how I’m going to say goodbye to my people.

This is probably the most honest blog I can write, but I promised myself this year that no matter how vulnerable it makes me feel, I would share my writing with my students. After all, how can I call myself an English teacher--one who teaches writing--if I don’t write for an audience myself?  So, this is the honest truth: I am afraid of what my classroom will be like without my people. It’s known them for four years and grown comfortable having them sit in there and argue, debate, write, and think.

I will conquer that fear and move on, but that’s material for another blog.  For now, I leave you with this. Continue to surround yourself with the right people--people who lead, who are compassionate, people who are funny and make you feel good about yourselves. Those people will make you see the good and the humor and the compassion in others..Today and always, I am grateful for the people I choose to be around and also grateful for you. I am the teacher I am today because of you and hope you know how lucky I consider myself to have had the chance to know you as my people.