Lessons of Love from the Junior Lot

Dear Junior Lot,
       It's been an interesting few days getting to know you, as my car has only had the honor of your presence when I attend football games in the fall.  When Mr. Leise first described his fundraising idea--where teachers would auction off their parking lot spaces to students to raise money for MCEF (Mechanicsville Churches Emergency Functions), being forced to park in student spaces--it seemed like a good idea at the time. How could I say no to helping the less fortunate? The walk couldn't be that bad or long; after all, I run three to five miles on a regular basis. Then you greeted me on the first day with rain that at one point hit the sides of my face due to the blistering wind. I came back at you with a smile and slightly windblown hair, though, knowing I was making a difference.

On the way down at the end of the first day, I had two of my children who giggled their way through the seven-minute stretch, telling jokes and trying to make each other laugh. Yesterday my kids ran in between the posts all the way down to the parking lot like they were doing agility drills. Thank you, Junior Lot, for helping them go home tired!

As I walked, you greeted me with an influx of cars trying to break away from Atlee High School and the possibility that I might, in fact, run out of gas before I even left school because the line to leave was so long. I said farewell with the promise to return tomorrow, though. This back and forth went on daily, as students waved at me on my trek back and forth to school and asked how my walk was. Where were the rides up to school in the morning that I constantly hear about? It's been two full days--two miles of walking--and I decided I want express my love and gratitude to you this Valentine's Day, Junior Lot, as you've given me something to blog about and a new perspective.
     
       First, you've shown me more than ever what it is like to step into the shoes of my students. I often listen to my students complain about the trek from you, Junior Lot, but I never thought it was that big of a deal--that is, until I had to do it myself. This week, I've learned that as teachers, if we can't relate to our students, it makes it impossible to teach them well. We need to make connections. When I first started teaching, I'm not sure I saw these connections. I was trying to avoid being asked for my hall pass while walking down the hall, as I was only five years older than my students. This happened numerous times where a teacher I didn't know asked me where my pass was. That first year, my students and I listened to the same music and spoke the same language. Now, I'll be honest, I ask a lot of questions to my students because sometimes I don't always speak their language, and very often (especially when it comes to emojis and texting language) I don't try. Yet, I'm somehow infinitely closer to my students today than I was twenty years ago when I was closer in age. Why? I learned in the course of twenty years what really matters in education. Yes, I want my students to be better writers and readers. I would love for my students to appreciate Frankenstein and idolize Janie in Their Eyes Were Watching God, but I want so much more for them. I want them to love themselves and one another. I want them to be good people. I want them to know that I will never give up on them. I want them to know that if they want to see me walk from you, Junior Lot, I will do that even if it means you are spitting rain sideways in my face and making me late for my usual morning routine. Ultimately, you allowed me to see where they're coming from, Junior Lot, and for that, I thank you.

     You also allowed me to show my sense of humor. I think school can be too serious of a place sometimes. Students are stressed. Teachers are overwhelmed. Administrators are trying to balance too many things. So, one of the prizes to go with me auctioning my parking spot was to wear a shirt with the winner's picture on it. I took great liberties in making this shirt this week and proudly wore it on Monday. I had a lot of students approach me and shake their heads, and I got a lot of smiles and eye rolls. Even the winner of my parking space was a good sport about it. School was a little less serious for a few moments, and that was a good thing.

      This week you've also have given me a chance to give back to the community. Part of my deal was that I would donate canned goods to the food bank for every dollar raised. I had some puzzled looks at the grocery store when I had dozens of canned peas and boxes of macaroni and cheese loaded in my cart. 120 items later, my heart feels bigger. Better.

Next week will be the one year anniversary of me trying to live one percent better. On February 23, 2017, I introduced that idea to the Class of 2017, and I secretly vowed to live a life dedicated to making this happen. I knew if I committed to this I would live 37 times better than the year before. I know I was not perfect in this commitment, but I also know I've improved. I gave my students that 1% challenge at a time when I, myself, was ready to give up on teaching. I was burned out--tired and worn like the path I seem to be making to you this week, Junior Lot. For awhile I was scared to admit I was depressed;  teaching was no longer fulfilling me like it used to. And somehow after that 1% challenge, I started to watch kindness overflow in the cup of my classroom. Students started to take me far more seriously than I ever thought. And I realized that the difference I was making among those students was not something I could just walk away from. I suddenly realized I needed to be the teacher I longed for when I was in high school..

       So, if I get choked up thinking about why I'm making this trek, Junior Lot, it's because I love my students--every single one of them past and present--like they are my own children. And in a way, they are. Last year, someone from the school board office emailed me asking me how many kids I had; I automatically responded with 122, not knowing that she was asking about my 3 biological children! You see, sometimes I reference my students as "my kids" because I hurt when they hurt. They may frustrate me or make me mad from time to time when they don't listen or read or forget to turn in assignments, but boy do they also know how to make me laugh, and I certainly am proud of their accomplishments. So, Junior Lot, I'll take the long trek this week. Bring on your spitting rain and blistery winds. I can handle you because those kids I'm walking for--my kids--deserve it. Happy Valentine's Day!

              Much love,
              A teacher who is grateful for the journey...even the long one you have provided me with this week