I Am a Teacher

I started back to work with a planning day today. I enjoy my job, but even with no children there I couldn't get everything accomplished. I had 26 items on my to-do list and only completed 12 of those. I worked hard, but there were just not enough hours in the day. So, I prioritized my list and finished everything I needed to do for tomorrow and started working on things for Thursday. I'll get Friday taken care of in the next two days. My plans are complete, I just have to prepare a lot of materials for my first graders. During one of my meetings today, we were given this essay to read to illustrate the need for prior knowledge when comprehending reading. I won't go into the lesson we were supposed to have gained from the piece. What I noticed is that in this field where test scores are so vital and focused on so tremendously (We'd had a stressful meeting about test results BEFORE this reading comprehension meeting.), not much in this piece about being a teacher is very academic. Being a teacher is many things. It's much more than reading, writing and arithmetic. I loved this and thought the teachers in the family might enjoy it too.

I Am a Teacher

Done, P. (2005). 32 Third Graders and One Class Bunny, pp. 1-4. NY: Simon and Schuster.

I read Charlotte's Web and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory every year, and every year when Charlie finds the golden ticket and Charlotte dies, I cry.

I take slivers out of fingers and bad sports out of steal the bacon. I know when a child has gum in his mouth even when he is not chewing. I have sung "Happy Birthday" 657 times.

I hand over scissors with the handles up. My copies of The Velveteen Rabbit and Treasure Island are falling apart. I can listen to one child talk about his birthday party and another talk about her sleepover and another talk about getting his stomach pumped last night - all at the same time.

I fix staplers that won't staple and zippers that won't zip, and I poke pins in the orange caps of glue bottles that will not pour. I hand out papers and pencils and stickers and envelopes for newly pulled teeth. I know the difference between Austria and Australia.

I plan lessons while showering, driving, eating, and sleeping. I know what time it is when the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the nine. I say the r in library. I do no say the w in sword.

I put on band-aids and winter coats and school plays. I know they will not understand the difference between your and you're. I know they will write to when it should be too. I say, "Cover you mouth," after they have coughed on me.

I am a teacher.

I examine new braces and new blisters and holes in mouths where teeth have just fallen out. I can spell vacuum. I know the magic word.

I wear four-leaf clovers and dandelions in my pockets that have just been picked with love at recess. I pray for snow days.

I spend Thanksgiving vacation writing report cards, Christmas vacation cleaning my classroom, and summer vacation taking classes on how to relax. I know the difference between a comma and an apostrophe. I can say apostrophe.

I buy books about cats and dogs and sharks and volcanoes and horses and dinosaurs. I turn jump ropes and am base in tag. I am glad you can only get chicken pox once.

I correct pencil grips and spelling mistakes and bad manners. I push chairs all the way, push swings higher, and push sleeves up while children are painting. I can touch the paper cutter.

I have every teacher mug Hallmark ever made. I say, "Use two hands!" when they carry their lunch trays. I say, "Accidents happen," after they did not use two hands.

I wear green on St. Patrick's Day, red on Valentine's Day, and my bathrobe on pajama day. I poke straws into juice boxes and untwist thermos lids that are too tight. I unpeel oranges that are too tight, too.

I sign library passes and yearbooks and new casts. I attend soccer games and Little League championships and funerals for guinea pigs.

I am a teacher.

I hope April Fool's Day is on a Saturday. I blow up balloons that will not blow up. I always blow the whistle too early at recess.

I can borrow and carry very fast. I give them more time to answer six times eight than two times three. I never end a sentence with a preposition. I know what a preposition is.

I draw stars and smiley faces. I know when to say "can" and when to say "may." I have worn green marker, red paint, yellow chalk dust, glue stick, and glitter all on the same day. I hate glitter.

I always begin a sentence with a capital and end it with a period. I always walk in line.

I leave "shuger" and "vilets" misspelled on their valentines. I know all my continents and my oceans. I tape pages back into books. I can find the end of the new roll of Scotch tape. I call on children whose hands are not raised.

I know that colonel is a really hard word to read, and so is doubt and so is gauge. I know that kids will read started, when it says stared. I have spelled out because and beautiful and friend six million times.

I am a teacher.

I look both ways before crossing the street. I save balls stuck in basketball hoops. I have given 842 spelling tests and have written, "Have a good summer!" that many times, too.

I collect milk boxes and coffee cans and egg cartons. I know all my times tables. I can type without looking. I know that two pretzels do not equal one Hershey's kiss.

I can make a telescope out of a toilet paper roll and a totem pole out of oatmeal boxes. I can make snowflakes out of coffee filters and a space shuttle out of a Pringles can, too.

I know my notes because "Every Good Boy Does Fine." I know my directions because I "Never Eat Slimy Worms." And I can only say my ABCs if I sing them.

I fix watchbands, repair eyeglasses, and search for lost milk money after freeze tag. I know when their fists will make a rock and when they will make scissors.

I know when a child does not understand. I know when a child is not telling the truth. I know when a child was up too late last night. I know when a child needs help finding a friend.

I am a teacher.