I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to capture in writing all the ways I just, simply, ADORE my daughter Ella’s kindergarten teacher, Mrs. G.
First, I should be clear – I wasn’t particularly excited to send my first-born child to elementary school. I knew I was, well, kind of lawfully obligated to send her. And that she’d probably love it. That she’d probably learn so much. Make new friends. Grow. But I still had the pit in my stomach. So many fears and questions, which ran like a constant ticker tape in my mind.
Would her teacher be kind? Would she be loving? Would she ‘see,’ really see, my girl? Would she know how precious and special she is? Would she foster Ella’s natural excitement for learning, or would she stifle it? Would she challenge Ella while also making her feel accepted and excited to learn? Would she help both Ella’s mind and heart to grow?
Now, as we approach the end of Ella’s kindergarten year, I can look back and smile at those questions. Maybe they’ll emerge again, at another time, an older age, a different teacher, a different school. But right here, right now, as summer is fast approaching, I simply could not have LOVED or been more grateful for Ella’s kindergarten experience. Every single second of it.
Yes, some of that gratitude is rightfully directed to the school. To its welcoming culture. To the amazing women who seem to run the entire school from the ‘central command center’ humbly called ‘the office.’ To the principal who gives the kids high fives as they enter the building and walk the halls. To all of Ella’s ‘specials’ teachers, who have nurtured her love of art and reading and music and play. To other great parents who have raised the great kids who are Ella’s classmates. To the children themselves – who are just so sweet and smart and dear.
But more than anything, I attribute this deep sense of gratitude to Ella’s kindergarten teacher, Mrs. G. Mrs. G. is, quite simply, more than I ever expected, better than I ever imagined possible.
I have the privilege of volunteering in her class for just an hour or so, one day a week. And it’s hands-down, the happiest, most fulfilling hour of my week. I love the time with the kids. I love the time with Ella. But mostly, I love watching Mrs. G.
I love Mrs. G. for starting out the year with the book “How full is your bucket?,” and for teaching my girl, by example, every day, how she can fill her own ‘bucket’ when she focuses intently on ‘filling the buckets’ of the people around her.
I love watching Mrs. G. kneel down, eye level with each child, to read with them or ask them about a story they’re writing – or to ask them how they’re feeling, or to give them a hug when she knows they really need it.
I love hearing and watching her read stories to the children – with her eyebrows raised, commanding their full attention with her intonation and voice fluctuations and pregnant pauses and facial expressions. I love how she plays classical music as they work independently on their projects, and how most days, they are so engaged in their work, that you can hear every note of that music. And know they’re listening, really listening to it, too.
I love that she makes learning so very much fun. Corporate leaders of the world – if you want to know how to inspire your employees to give you their best work – how to create a truly engaged workforce of employees who strive to learn and grow and thrive – please visit Mrs. G’s class. You can come during her unit on ‘the continents’ (which, by the way, I learned in the 5th grade and in the dullest, most boring way) and listen to the 5 and 6 year olds gleefully sing 4 different songs, which they’ve memorized by heart, while you simultaneously get a cultural lesson about what it’s like to visit Italy, or France, or China – and hear every syllable of the word “Au-stra-li-a.” You watch how she teaches her class about the complexities of the African Rain Forest, while they physically build one out of paper, floor to ceiling, in a corner of her classroom. You can wonder what these kindergarteners imagined about their own leadership potential when they helped create “Mount Kindergarten” for one of the few, small, uncovered areas of Mrs. G’s wall, with individual self-portraits of each classmate emulating the likes of presidents Washington and Lincoln.
In each of these instances, it’s not that she makes learning so much fun that ‘they don’t even know that they’re learning.’ It’s that she makes it so much fun that they know they are learning and they LOVE it. They crave it. They want more of it.
I love Mrs. G.’s dress up days. Knowing, for example, how much more the children will remember the nursery rhymes they read and re-read at the beginning of the year, because they all had the chance to come to class dressed as their favorite character.
I love that Mrs. G. invited horses – real, live horses – to class during her farm unit. That she invited loved ones to school to help her students build bird houses – with real hammers and nails – during her ‘tools’ unit.
I love that these little 6-year-olds, most of whom, like my Ella, could only write their name on the first day of school, just independently wrote 10-page non-fiction ‘books,’ complete with ‘about the author’ pages, written in third person.
I love that she taught our children the true meaning of the ‘holiday spirit’ AND the true power of the amazing things they could accomplish together, as a team, by giving them the opportunity to plan and implement a school-wide ‘Gingerbread sale,’ during which they raised hundreds of dollars and other donations for a local family in need.
I love that Mrs. G. doesn’t call her students ‘kids’ or ‘children’ or even ‘class.’ She calls them ‘friends.’ All the time. Every time. When she’s trying to quiet them, it’s “Friends, it’s getting noisy. Work quietly please.” When she’s congratulating them, it’s an enthusiastic “Friends! You have done a great job this morning!” It may seem like a little thing. But it’s a big thing to the little people she teaches. Because this simple word makes them feel respected and valued. Which, I believe, is another reason they come to school every day excited to learn.
I love that Mrs. G. so quickly learned the unique personalities and needs of each child, and intuitively seemed to understand how to respond to the unique needs of each one. I love that Mrs. G. has taught Ella to be such a brave reader and a brave learner. And that Mrs. G. has taught Ella and her classmates that the only real failure is the failure to try.
I love that Mrs. G. so clearly, so obviously loves teaching. I love seeing the ear-to-ear smile, the utter delight on her face when she sees a new creation by of one of her aspiring artists – especially when she can tell that child put in extra effort and focus to make it their very best work. I love that she meets every single child where they are, and celebrates their accomplishments as individuals – knowing that each one of her ‘friends’ will learn differently, and at different paces and levels, every day.
So with this post, I thank Mrs. G. I thank her for creating a loving, nurturing, challenging and inspiring environment for my Ella, and hundreds of other little people over the years, to learn.
I thank her for not letting ever-evolving ‘assessments’ and new standards and other public school bureaucracies, which are beyond her control, kill her spirit or her love of teaching. For finding a way to make sure her kindergartners get to experience the Amazon Rain Forest, the Cherry blossoms of China, the romance of Paris, the food of Italy…the complexities of the English language, the knowledge that ‘research’ can bring. I thank her teaching them that they can find whole new worlds in books. For showing them, by example, that you really do get out of life what you put into it.
I thank her for going above and beyond what’s expected by any ‘common core,’ and for her diehard commitment to making learning fun. I thank her for leading by example. For showing her ‘friends’ the importance of being brave and kind. For loving each student, even when they’re difficult. For filling their buckets, and igniting their love of learning, every single day.
I thank her for making school feel like a home away from home for my little girl, and for making Ella feel every bit as loved and ‘seen’ and valued as she is when she’s with me – if not moreso.
Mrs. G., I thank you for being the best example of the word “teacher” that I could ever ask for. Thank you for so much more.
On Teacher Appreciation week -- thank you for being you.
