Some days

Some days I just don’t know if I want to teach anymore. Some days I have dreams of a cozy cubicle. Some days I really do think I could sell cars. Maybe.

Some days I don’t know if I can take one more kid asking me “What did you say Mr. Stortz?” right after I just said it 13 times and had your buddy right next to you repeat it back to me.

I’m not sure if I can take one more kid asking me if his tooth looks “loose”.

Some days I don’t know if I can tie one more shoe, put on one more band- aid, or listen to one more story about what your mom made for supper last night.

Some days I don’t know if I can tell one more kid to stop doing that and go get a Kleenex.

Some days I just don’t know if I can listen to one more tattle about how James was looking at me during recess and now he’s not going to be my friend.

Some days I know I say “Go sit down” more than I say “Good job!”

Some days I say “Go fix this” more than I say “Well done.”

Some days I want to trip the next kid running down the hall.

And some days I want parental consent to biff kids in the back of the head as an acceptable form of discipline.

But some days, more than anything, I just don’t know if I want to reach the end of my life and realize that I never really did anything of significance. I don’t know if I want to be at the end of it all and have had no one tell me thanks for making a difference in their life.

But the truth is many of us will never see the end results of our efforts. We tire for something distant and unformed. Something that has not yet been. Someone else will reap the fruits from the tears, struggles, and labor that we have sown.

The Bible reminds us to “not grow weary in doing what is right.” We get a chance to pour ourselves into something much bigger than any of us. It’s living and organic. It is intangible and wonderful. It is for the greater good. It’s something that all the cubicle workers and car dealers probably don’t understand. But that’s why I teach.

And some days, I just don’t know if I remind myself of that enough.

God bless you all.

Why is the sun hot?

Conversations with my son on the car ride to school this month:

Son: Why is the sun so hot?

Me: Well, there are many reasons. There’s um… exploding gases, and uh...Did you get your lunchbox?

Son: Why do kids in high school drive cars to school?

Me: Well…….. I’m not sure. I guess they like to.

Son: Did Dr. Frankenstein have a mustache?

Me: Well… I’m not exactly sure. We’ll check Wikipedia when we get home.

Son: Why are elementary schools always inside of neighborhoods?

Me: Well, I guess it builds community for the families and safety for the school.

Son: I wish they were close to, like, businesses.

Son: What if all the continents were connected to each other?

Me: Actually (sounding very knowledgable), many scientists think they used to be. They called it (I paused here for effect and nodded my head as I said it) Pangea.

Son: (Completely unimpressed by my vast historical knowledge) But what if they still were all connected right now?

Me: Umm. We would all be…uhh… I’ll check Wikipedia when we get home.

I see a thirst for physics, sociology, literature, geography. A thirst that often dries up far too quickly. As I listen to my 6 year old son, I am constantly reminded that my agenda is rarely his and that kids are quite capable of making their own curriculum. Somedays I just forget that fact as I stand on my soapbox in front of my classroom full of 1^st graders and preach the benefits of knowing the _ump word family, and how learning to properly make a lowercase “k” will, in fact, make you a better author.

Our students will learn despite us, in spite of us, and hopefully on those rare occasions, because of us.