My first caring teacher was in kindergarten. I stole snacks from the pockets of my classmates' coats and pretended they were mine. I remember lying right to Sondra's face as I stuffed my mouth with her plastic-tasting cheese crackers. "No! I bought these!" I'd swear. What's most important about this story is how the teacher handled my theft. I had been stealing for months, and before saying anything, she took the time to figure out more about me and what might be going on. Later, I found out she talked to other teachers in the building who had my older siblings, and I'm sure she learned a lot about my family situation. She hugged me when she pulled me aside to discuss it sometime in October. She was a big, soft woman who smelled like lilies. From then on, she ensured extra daily snacks for anyone who needed one or forgot theirs at home. Instead of seeing a potential criminal, my teacher saw a little kid trying to get what she needed but didn't know how to do it except steal.
The second most memorable school adult was in ninth grade. By this point, my home life had spiraled out of control, and I needed help. She was my English teacher, and English was already my favorite subject. I loved reading and spent hours on the floor of my closet at home with The Chronicles of Narnia spread out around me. Eventually, my taste turned to Sweet Valley High (don't judge) and other teen dramas I could read in one evening. Sure, she taught me how to read and write, but more, she taught me to think critically and communicate honestly.
In class, we read Romeo and Juliet, and for the final, she said we could take a test on the play or write a modern version of this story; I thought she made the assignment for me. I wrote the story in one night. I was the main character, telling her how much help I needed to keep from ending up like Juliet. She read my "story" the day I turned it in (three days early) and asked me to stay after class. I sat in the front row of the empty classroom while she walked around and collected loose paper from the floor and stray pencils from the desks. She told me my paper was excellent, and she also told me that she struggled at home when she was in high school, too. That night, she took me home to have dinner with her family. She had a husband and three sons I had heard about but never seen, and we ate at the dining room table with candles- not kidding. I felt at home as I looked out at the street lights coming on, surrounded by friendly and loving chatter. The following week, she took me to an Alateen meeting, where I could connect with other kids from similar households and get support.
This teacher did many things that saved my life. She gave me a safe place to express myself and showed me she was someone I could trust. She did that by sharing her life stories sometimes at the beginning of class or in the middle of the novel. She was just a person with a life of struggles and joys, and she didn't try to hide that. She was willing to risk my parents' wrath and the school's rules by intervening in a dire situation. In a family that believed in not talking or not telling, I talked, and she heard me.
This year, my kiddo has had several caring adults at school reach out and connect. Several! (Listen to It's a Math Miracle!) One favorite teacher, who happens to be an English teacher, has made a profound impact. When I asked my kiddo how this teacher had made such a connection, what they told me was simple. She says good morning to me every day by name. She notices when I don't feel well. She notices when we do something right instead of constantly pointing out what we are doing wrong. She listens to my stories. I know that I can go to her if I need anything.
Caring relationships at school were a lifeline for me, but after years of teaching, I've come to understand no one is harmed when strong relationships are built at school. All kids need to be seen and understood, and they spend most of their day (life) in school, not at home. Gratefully, in my teacher training program at Harvard, we were taught that building relationships should be a foundation for our classrooms. Period. Teaching is not like other jobs. Teaching is a vocation. Teachers spend more time with students than their families do and spend that time with kids during their most crucial developmental periods. That is an enormous responsibility. Alongside the coursework and curriculum, we teach kids how to be human and make their way outside their homes, no matter what home is like.
Beautiful!