As we were getting ready for bed one night this week; I was wrapping up a few gifts for teachers. One of the gifts was for our beloved kindergarten teacher, Mrs. G. When I was done, I called over to Kate, who was sitting at the counter coloring, and told her it was time for bed.
She said “OK,” but her voice was shaky. I looked over, and could tell she had been thinking about something that made her sad. I asked her what was wrong.
“Mommy,” she said, big tears now streaming down her face, “I don’t want to leave Mrs. G!”
She ran over to me, and buried her little tanned face in my skirt. I could feel her tears soak through. I picked her up and hugged her. I told her that we’d see Mrs. G after school was out for summer; and that she could still see her every morning and at lunch and even after school, next year and the year after that, all the way til 6th grade.
“I know Mommy. But that’s not enough. I want to stay with her forever. In her class. Forever. I want to stay in kindergarten with Mrs. G forever,” she sobbed. “I vu-got (forgot), Momma. When I was with her all year, I was having such a good time. I vu-got it would be over. I vu-got I’d have to leave.”
I felt the tears stinging in my eyes, now, too. I felt the flip-flop in my stomach. I felt the familiar lump in my throat. You see, this is my second time having to accept that kindergarten with Mrs. G is over; as my daughter Ella had to leave her too, just last year. And truth be told, I don’t think Kate is overreacting. I completely understand how she feels.
As a matter of fact, I feel almost selfish – feeling so sad that kindergarten is again coming to a close. I feel like I hit the lottery not once, but twice, and, after having the joy of spending all the money on exactly everything I wanted and needed, I have no right to complain that the money has run out. Any family would be blessed to have a teacher like Mrs. G once in a lifetime. We get her twice, and still – it’s not enough?
Nope, it’s not.
Our family has been so beyond blessed that both of our daughters got such a magical kindergarten experience. And now, our Ella Bella is wrapping up a great first grade experience, too. I keep reminding myself (and Kate) that life goes on, and that more lovely school experiences are ahead of us. I keep reminding her not to be sad that kindergarten is over – but to be grateful that it happened. But I can't disagree with her. It's hard.
If you’re wondering what’s so magical about it – you can check out this blogpost from last year, this time – recapping Ella’s incredible kindergarten experience. Kate’s has been every bit as magical. Except this year, I took more time away from work, and had the privilege of volunteering in Mrs. G’s classroom even more than I did last year. I got to see her in her groove, for a few hours, three days each week,sometimes more.
I got to experience the whole dreamy year – again. And still, it wasn’t enough. But I don’t know if I could ever get enough of watching Mrs. G.
I don’t know if it could ever get old. Watching shy, unsure kindergartners evolve into brave, confident, passionate learners – under her loving care. I don’t know if my heart could ever grow tired of watching how she masterfully challenges them, nurtures them, loves them and feeds their thirst for knowledge. I don’t know if I could ever grow tired of the humility I feel when I’m around her. When she leaves a near-silent room of studiously working kindergartners in my care for 3 minutes – to go to the bathroom – and returns to a rumbling roar of emerging chaos.
Because as much as I know and love and adore each one of the students in her class – I just don’t have the same magic – or better stated – the same presence or skill – that she has, when it comes to lovingly directing a kindergarten chorus of kiddos. How does she always have control of the room, while never once ever squashing a single one of their little spirits? While never once ever raising her voice, or losing her temper?
I don’t know the answers to these questions. But I never grow tired of watching the magic unfold before my eyes.
We live in a world where it seems like everything that’s bad or wrong or sad or ugly gets magnified. I find myself watching this woman and the magic she has with her students, and I wish that everyone in the world could have this amazing, priceless gift I have been given. To spend time watching this incredibly gifted teacher, with her students, day after day. It is everything that’s right with the world.
Mrs. G has God’s eyes, I swear. She sees the best in even the most rambunctious kindergartner. She delights in their idiosyncrasies and every one of their personality quirks. She sees each one of them as a gift on the first day they enter her classroom; and then she spends each year lovingly unwrapping each one of those precious gifts – delighting in every surprise and special moment along the way.
I used to think that teaching was a great job. And it is. But not for the reasons I thought. I thought of it as a laid back job, where you’d get to inspire kids and end the work day before other professionals; and have the whole summer off, care-free. I got the inspire kids part right. But through her example, Mrs. G has shown me that I got the rest of it wrong. Totally wrong.
Mrs. G has shown me that to teach the way she does – to be the absolute best – means that teaching is quite nearly a 24-hour-a-day job. The 4, 6 or 12 crafts she does with every student, for every unit, to ensure her lessons are visually, permanently punctuated in their little minds? They take hours and hours to prepare for – well after the school day ends. All the hand-made, bound, laminated books she makes of special class experiences – so children can learn to read while bringing the magic of their kindergarten experience home to their parents? Those books aren’t put together when the students are in school. They’re put together hours before school starts, or when the rest of us are eating our dinners or going to bed.
When children enter her classroom on day one, not reading a word, and then transform into fully literate readers – many reading at 1st and 2nd grade level? That’s the result of an incredible amount of hard work, endless assessments, preparation and one-on-one time she spends with each student. And as efficient as she is, all that work just can’t happen during the regular school day.
Being an amazing teacher like Mrs. G means having to take some days "off" to care for a sick family member, and worrying about ‘your kids’ every day that your gone; wanting to make sure that they don’t miss a single special experience you had planned for them.
Being a teacher like Mrs. G means putting aside whatever you’re dealing with in your personal life – be it a sick family member or a health issue or the never-ending duties that come with also being a fantastic mama – and making 20-some 5-and-6-year olds the complete focus of your attention, every day, from 8:15 a.m. until 2:45 p.m. when they leave. (And the focus of your partial attention, every waking moment of your day.)
It means greeting each child with a sincere smile and a hug every single morning, regardless of how tired you may be. It means expanding your heart to also have room for the first and second and third and fourth and fifth and sixth graders who still love and remember and adore you – and who still religiously stop by your room for an extra dose of love and encouragement, every single morning, without fail.
Years after she is no longer their assigned classroom teacher, Mrs. G intuitively knows that she is so much more than a one-time teacher to them. She is the power of a hug and a welcoming smile. She is stability and nostalgia for their younger years. She is an ever-present friend. She is love. The kind of love that doesn’t know the end of the school day, or even the end of the school year.
Mrs. G has a rare and special gift. She was born to do this work. And for the rest of her life, regardless of what society or social media or the board of education says, I want her to know that she quite simply has the best and most important job in all the world. And every day, she does that job better, and with more heart and enthusiasm, than anyone I know.
Mrs. G has made my sweet Kate-Kate more loving and more compassionate. My little girl who could only read a few words on day one of kindergarten is now reading at a level expected at the end of a first grade year. But far more important than that…far more important than what any academic assessment would say…Mrs. G has helped Kate develop into a leader among her peers. She has helped strengthen her intuitive ability to know, and to do, what’s right. She has nurtured Kate’s love of learning, and made an infinitely more confident student. She has taught her how to be brave and kind. She has taught her how to be a better student, friend, daughter and member of the community. And for that, I can never repay her.
Mrs. G loves A.A. Milne. So I guess it makes the most sense to end this post with words from one of her favorite authors.
How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
Thank you, Mrs. G, for showing Ella, Kate and me everything a teacher can be. Thank you for setting the bar so high, and for making it so hard to leave your classroom. Know that we will all three forever consider ourselves your students. And that you have changed our lives, for the better, forever.
