That is a beautiful and revelatory telling of the life of an obviously well-loved and revered teacher...I wish there had been ones like that in my 'education'
This is so lovely. You may never meet the students you might have had, but please know that the impressions you made in your students is, in most cases, somewhat indelible. My teachers have always been my most important people. I’m 64 years old and I’m still in touch with my 1st grade teacher. And my junior high art teacher and up until she passed away last year, my 94 year old 5th grade teacher. Teachers were my champions. I hold them in my heart every day for the gifts they gave me. xo
I haven't encountered very many teachers who describe that experience and I've often wondered what it's like. I imagine the challenge of the repetitiveness, though of course the faces aren't repetitive. I think my best experience with teachers were those I had when I was in the Bennington College MFA Writing Seminars Program. Their investment, mostly, was palpable.
So beautiful, Beth. Makes me wish that while at U of P finishing my MSW, I'd had the good fortunate of taking your class. Yet here we are now. Love the progression of this piece. Favorite line: “…and there was always, in a backpack I couldn’t quite place, the smell of an overripened banana.” I feel it’s as important to know when to leave, as it is to share what we know. We have the respons-ability to step out, make room for new energy. And this, Itoo, found was key “The angst of earning my place in that classroom had begun to outweigh the joy.” We must leave to find our joy again.
Beth. That was so poignant. I grew up wanting to teach English to college students. The closest I came was working as a therapist in the counseling office at my alma mater and co-teaching a class on emotional intelligence. College students were my favorite clients while in private practice. So much promise! I look back on the season with such fondness. And another seasons opens.
Heartfelt eloquent piece at least to me who also worked for many years with children ( and some women) from separating families trying to eek some family and individual life from conflict fraught families.
I so miss those kids.. delighted playing in the sandtray, art work made and esp the sword fighting!
I’m 70 single and now retired and bored!
It is a privilege to part of a child’s world and to be a port in the storm at troubled times. Thanks for writing this so beautifully.
Thank you, Deborah, for all that you did. Your work lives on. I hope very much that something emerges that unbores you. My garden has become that for me. Another kind of nurturing.
That is a beautiful and revelatory telling of the life of an obviously well-loved and revered teacher...I wish there had been ones like that in my 'education'
Thank you, dear Janey. I wish so, too, for you. In you I have always sensed a very fine and open student. Which is what we all aspire to be.
This is so lovely. You may never meet the students you might have had, but please know that the impressions you made in your students is, in most cases, somewhat indelible. My teachers have always been my most important people. I’m 64 years old and I’m still in touch with my 1st grade teacher. And my junior high art teacher and up until she passed away last year, my 94 year old 5th grade teacher. Teachers were my champions. I hold them in my heart every day for the gifts they gave me. xo
I love this note, Nan. This remembering of those who saw you and cared.
Beautifully written, hauntingly sad. (((Hugs)))
Thanking you.
What a beautiful reflection on what a vocation of teaching can be. What a gift you were to your students, and them to you.
Thank you, Carla. I have had a lucky life.
I haven't encountered very many teachers who describe that experience and I've often wondered what it's like. I imagine the challenge of the repetitiveness, though of course the faces aren't repetitive. I think my best experience with teachers were those I had when I was in the Bennington College MFA Writing Seminars Program. Their investment, mostly, was palpable.
Love this, “stalks and blooms, the scattered husks of seeds.” As a prof myself, I know exactly what you mean. How beautifully you’ve sowed the seeds.
To you, with your gorgeous name. Together we sow.
So beautiful, Beth. Makes me wish that while at U of P finishing my MSW, I'd had the good fortunate of taking your class. Yet here we are now. Love the progression of this piece. Favorite line: “…and there was always, in a backpack I couldn’t quite place, the smell of an overripened banana.” I feel it’s as important to know when to leave, as it is to share what we know. We have the respons-ability to step out, make room for new energy. And this, Itoo, found was key “The angst of earning my place in that classroom had begun to outweigh the joy.” We must leave to find our joy again.
Typing with my two ruined thumbs to say. The wisdom in you. Xoxo
Take care of those thumbs!
Responsibility and privilege. Yes. I just know you were a teacher your students will never forget, Beth, nor you them. Gorgeous words.
I have lived a small life of big love I think. Those students are forever for me. Thank you. Xoxo
I love that. A small life of big love. What more could each of us hope for?
Both my parents taught and viewed teaching as sacred. I have taught in my fashion. This essay gets to the heart of why teaching matters.
And your words and your kindness. Lessons unto themselves. Xo
Beth. That was so poignant. I grew up wanting to teach English to college students. The closest I came was working as a therapist in the counseling office at my alma mater and co-teaching a class on emotional intelligence. College students were my favorite clients while in private practice. So much promise! I look back on the season with such fondness. And another seasons opens.
Our beautiful students. Always the age they were when we had the privilege of spending time with them. And yet that other season. Waiting.
The body never lies.
How right you are, Martha.
Heartfelt eloquent piece at least to me who also worked for many years with children ( and some women) from separating families trying to eek some family and individual life from conflict fraught families.
I so miss those kids.. delighted playing in the sandtray, art work made and esp the sword fighting!
I’m 70 single and now retired and bored!
It is a privilege to part of a child’s world and to be a port in the storm at troubled times. Thanks for writing this so beautifully.
Thank you, Deborah, for all that you did. Your work lives on. I hope very much that something emerges that unbores you. My garden has become that for me. Another kind of nurturing.