I can't help but find it truly amazing how one class of teenagers can make me feel like all my energy, compassion, and creativity is wasted and viewed as meaningless and imaginary. Why do I care so much?! Seriously, it would be so much easier if I felt detached. They aren't my children, but I was sad and I carried home a heavy heart.
Dwelling on those temporary feelings and not at all thinking about all the fulfilling experiences I have as a teacher.... Shame on me! The craziest thing is that this hurt came from only one of my five classes. In my first class of the day, a young man pulled me over to him because my lesson triggered a feeling of missing his entire family in Mexico. His parents left everyone behind to give him a better life and he misses them. I drew him into a safe space. He broke down in tears to me. His vulnerability and honest self-reflection is a reason to teach. Fast forward an hour... and I felt like a worthless piece of crap!
This morning I woke up with a sharper perspective... My hurt isn't completely gone, it's just not at the center of my mental state. It is Saturday morning and I am home with my own kids. I have a passion for making an impact on children; it's hard and some times it's too much to bear. Planting and sowing the seeds of change.... Oy Vey!
Today, I woke up and looked at the big picture and my biggest treasures were beside me: my own children! In reality and in metaphor, we made Treasure Chests together!
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