Teachers are masters of questions. They ask their students questions all the time; what is the answer to this math question, why was Columbus a jerk, why did erase your arm til it bled? They also ask their colleagues questions; how to keep order in the classroom, how to teach a certain concept, how to keep Johnny from throwing his erasers at other student’s head. They also ask themselves questions; how can I get through to Zack, how does my butt look in this dress, why did I get into teaching again? There are a lot of questions.
I think I speak for all teachers in my room right now when I say there is one, huge, overlying, exotential question that keeps us up at night. Do my students like me? How do I know if they like me? What do I do if they don’t like me? (I’m kidding, of course, we don’t care if you like us. Again. Kidding.)
I like to think that all my students adore me. I mean, I adore most of them so it just makes sense. We are together for about 7 hours daily so I’d hate to find out anyone hated me. How awful would that be? I make sure I talk to each of them, personally, every day. It may be a good morning or a good job. It may be to tell them their hair looks great or I like their shoes. It might even be to ask them to please tie their shoes…5th grade…..yes it happens daily. Regardless of what it say, I make it a point to speak to each student, to their eyes, daily. I hope this will let them all know that I love each of them. Even that pain in the neck in the third row. You know who you are…and I love you.
Today I had a wonderful experience. One of my students made it very clear that she not only knows I love her, but she loves me. It was a beautiful day outside. The kind of day that makes you wish for day-long recess. We were lingering, loitering, dragging out the 15 minutes into almost 21. Daring! A sweet darling girl came up to me and informed me she would like me to be her aunt. Aw, heartstrings!
She had decided that the best way to achieve her goal was to have me marry one of her uncles. Problem-solving in it’s finest! I said, okay, tell me about your uncle. She proceeded to tell me about not one, but three uncles that were in jail. She said they seemed like they were my type. One, in particular, stood out in her mind. I bit my tongue and asked her why he happened to be in jail. “Murder, and robbery…but he had help. He didn’t do it alone.”
So…apparently I am giving off the vibe that my type is the murdering uncle in jail type. I may have to rethink my teaching methods. I was going more for the stable, good sense of humor, hopefully some hair uncle type. I’m thinking it must be the boots. I had a feeling they were too racy.
Once again, the fix will be in shopping. Because I said so.