A Little Gift
There are moments when I wonder why I continue teaching and think it would be good for my soul to go a different direction. Then I think I'm too old to start over. There's no way I could start anew and make the same kind of living I am currently enjoying. So I just sigh and continue the direction I've been going for the last twenty-five plus years.
Then, out of nowhere, a message is sent telling me I'm doing exactly what I should be doing.
This morning, as Ado and I were enjoying our early morning walk in a neighborhood I love strolling through because of the mid-century style homes, the tall, old trees, and the quiet, a car pulled up alongside. A voice called out my name, and I turned to see a former student. A student who had struggled due to responsibilities outside of school: work, divorce, kids. But he always managed to complete the work. He always offered his ideas and treated his peers with the utmost respect. He wore his desire for an education on his sleeve, and his enthusiasm for learning was contagious.
As we spoke this morning, he told me he now has his own business and is doing well. He also has custody of one of his sons, though the son is struggling emotionally. When I said hug your son every day and tell him you love him every day, my former student said, "I'm so glad I saw you this morning. You continue to guide me and I appreciate that." The most telling sign that an important message was being sent my way was Ado sitting next to me, listening to my former student but not showing unease like he does with strangers. He sat calmly, never issuing a warning growl or bark, which is a first. It was like we were meant to be right there in that spot at that particular moment.
My former student went his way, Ado and I our way, and the day seemed all the brighter.
Then, out of nowhere, a message is sent telling me I'm doing exactly what I should be doing.
This morning, as Ado and I were enjoying our early morning walk in a neighborhood I love strolling through because of the mid-century style homes, the tall, old trees, and the quiet, a car pulled up alongside. A voice called out my name, and I turned to see a former student. A student who had struggled due to responsibilities outside of school: work, divorce, kids. But he always managed to complete the work. He always offered his ideas and treated his peers with the utmost respect. He wore his desire for an education on his sleeve, and his enthusiasm for learning was contagious.
As we spoke this morning, he told me he now has his own business and is doing well. He also has custody of one of his sons, though the son is struggling emotionally. When I said hug your son every day and tell him you love him every day, my former student said, "I'm so glad I saw you this morning. You continue to guide me and I appreciate that." The most telling sign that an important message was being sent my way was Ado sitting next to me, listening to my former student but not showing unease like he does with strangers. He sat calmly, never issuing a warning growl or bark, which is a first. It was like we were meant to be right there in that spot at that particular moment.
My former student went his way, Ado and I our way, and the day seemed all the brighter.
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