Today I visited my old kiddos in their new school. It's always bittersweet to make eye contact with them- some will remember you, and some will not. Reality being as harsh as it is, the kids you really connected with will be the type that do not.
One of my kiddos, let's call her Silent Cecily, lit up the minute I stepped in the door and ran in for a hug. I was more important to her in those three seconds of greeting than Santa. Or at least, that's the feeling I was floating on until she said, "What's your name?" I would like to say that I was crushed, but, like I said, bittersweet, harsh, etc. When you teach the young, you have to accept that you can have a profound impact on them without leaving a mental indentation of your face. So instead I laughed and told her, "Miss Chelsey," whereupon she lit up and repeated it like a mantra a few times before stating, "You said I'm smart!" Which filled me up like a freaking hot air balloon. Yes, yes I did. I gave you a microscope and some caterpillars and dinosaur bones and a journal to write in and I told you that you were smart. And, lo, you believed me.
That'll do. In this harsh world where people daily will compete with each other to try to tear you down, you never have to remember my name, hon. Just remember that I said you're smart.
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