I think one of the hardest things about teaching is feeling like I am alone.
And technically, I suppose, I am. I don’t have an assistant or co-teacher (I wish!) and for the better part of the day, it’s my kids and me.
But when I say “alone,” I’m not talking about the physical feeling of loneliness, but rather feeling like I am the only person who cares about what is happening in my classroom, feeling detached from my friends and family, feeling forgotten. It is amazing how lonely “together in the movement” can seem.
This weekend, I had a great reminder that I – that all of us – are not alone. I stopped in with a college friend on my way home from Memphis. I got to know her parents pretty well over the past year and crashed with them after the Tuscaloosa tornado, so they’ve kept up with my experience through her. However, nothing would have prepared me to be handed $200 for my classroom when I left, along with a desire to “do more” when I come back through after Christmas.
I mean, how cool is that? There are people out there who do not know my kids or my school but desperately want to help anyway. And it’s not even the money (though that helps) so much as it is knowing that someone else cares about my kids and wants better for them. My kids and me? We’re not alone.