"In the years that lie ahead of them, after they have finished school and grown up to be on their own, what will they remember about their first grade year and the teacher who loved them very much?"
In my 37 years now of being a teacher, I've taught first graders for 18 of those wonderful years. I taught first grade for two years back home in Haven, Kansas at the very same grade school that I went to. Then I moved 7 miles up the road to Yoder, Kansas where for 15 years I taught a combination classroom of 1st-2nd grade students that were mostly of the Old Order Amish faith. I went on to Hutchinson, Kansas later in my career and taught one year of regular first grade there plus an additional two years of what used to be called Developmental First Grade.
I know first graders.
This year at Olathe I've had the blessing of joining a group of 3 other first grade teachers and together we've brought 80 students to this point in time of the school year. Even though it had been over 15 years since I was in a first grade classroom all day long, it didn't take long to remember how to do it. I have loved this experience and I hope that when the year is over that I have taught them what they need in order to be successful beginning second graders in the fall. Of one thing I am most certain.
"I have done my best."
So what will they recall? What will have meant the most to them when this is all said and done? I have tried to teach them the joy of picking up a book and reading it, of understanding what it was about and why it might have been written. I've tried to show them how fun writing can actually be and even though they are in the very beginning stages of being writers, I've seen their improvements. We've worked on math, a lot. I've tried to show them that math is everywhere in their life, not just in the classroom but away from it as well. But even beyond all of the academic part of what is needed in their young and beginning years, I hope that they have learned life's good lessons and that is something that has been most crucial and meaningful to me.
They will probably remember the day that they saw their teacher crying. They will never have known why but they were concerned and knew something wasn't quite right. I remember that Indian summer day in November oh so very well. It was two days after I had a long overdue mammogram. I found the message on my phone during the noontime hour, only moments before I was to pick them up from the lunch room. Thinking it was just a quick message from the doctor's office, I answered it and the words that came from the nurse's mouth will be forever etched into my memory.
"I need to let you know that there was a spot that looked a little suspicious on your mammography results. The doctor wants you to go back in and have a sonogram to confirm what it might be."
For a moment in time, my world completely came to a halt. There was no past nor present and there certainly didn't seem to be a future. There was only the message, perhaps the scariest one that I have ever heard. What would lie ahead for me? What would happen to the children? If I couldn't be here, who would teach them? I really didn't want to think of what the answers might be and so I did the only thing I knew to do.
I cried.
All I have to say is that I thank the good Lord above for my good friends and fellow teachers, Nikki and Mary. Both of them have children in my classroom. I remember catching Mary's attention, tears falling down my face, and telling her to get my kids and take them to her room. In less that 10 minutes time, those two dear friends had already figured out a way to split the class up with each of them taking half of the kids with them. They sensed my sadness and understood totally and they wanted me to go home. I got it together, although I don't know how, and went back to class to be with them. I needed to be there but if I got into trouble, those two women were just down the hall and they'd be there to help me in no time at all.
Nikki and Mary are just like that.
I sat there with my kids for a moment because it was the time that I normally read a story to them. They were unusually quiet but I guess when your teacher looks like the world has come to an end, that's a normal reaction. I picked up the book to begin to read it to them and then all of a sudden, I just stopped and closed it. Forever I will remember those precious few minutes that followed as I gazed out to look at each of them. I made my eyes meet with their eyes, one by one. They looked sad too.
I had to swallow hard and grab a kleenix to wipe my eyes and I told them something that was very important to me. I wanted them to know.
"Children please don't worry. I'm fine. Sometimes life is not always happy, just like I have told you. I love each of you. All of you."
And the thing was this. Even with that tiny bit of information, those little 6 and 7-year olds understood. Talk about lessons of life.
I have never been referred to as stoic nor do I think I would ever wish to be. Even at their very young age, I believe that students need to see the "human" side of the person who spends 7 hours of the day with them. They need to see the "people" we are, not just the educator who tries to impart as much wisdom as possible in the short 180+ days that we have together.
It's important to me to do so.
I will never be convinced otherwise.
It's 5 a.m. now and I've been awake since 2 this morning. Much is on my plate in the days and weeks that lie ahead. Time will soon come to head to school and see those little faces once again. We have lots of catching up to do and many stories to tell one another. It will be good to be back there once again.
I don't know what you remember about being in first grade. Some of us have been away from that time in life a little longer than others. Whatever it is that is stored away in your memory bank, I hope that one thing is at the top of the list.
I hope and pray dear friends and family that you knew your teacher loved you. That whoever it was, they did their very best to teach you a few of life's lessons as well.
For me, it was Mrs. Hyla Bacon at Burrton Grade School. She's now long gone from this earth but for that one year period of time, now over 50 years ago, I called her my "teacher" and one thing I know for certain.
A tiny, quiet and shy girl named Peggy was loved by her.
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