Last year around this time I wrote a letter to myself about my first ten years of teaching.
(Random summer thoughts. Day 5.)
The first recommendation said this –
“Fall in love with your kids and their families. Right now you are motivated by the injustice of the achievement gap (which isn’t a bad thing; that’s what got you into teaching in the first place) but love is more personal and specific and contextual and empathetic. As noble a pursuit as justice is (and it’s a super meaningful pursuit), love is deeper and stronger and kinder. It will get you up in the morning. One day you’ll be on a packed bus with kids (and adults) singing their hearts out and you’ll wonder: what created that amazing experience? The answer won’t be justice; it will be love. (Always.)
And when your kids share that love with others – like when Sydney buys Jah’sir a pack of twenty pencils because she notices he doesn’t have any at the time or when Amirah and Sasha write thank you notes to the cleaning staff in Spanish using Google Translate because they want to thank them in their own language – you won’t be able to contain the pride and the hope and the excitement that you feel. So don’t; tell everyone you know about such occurrences. Become a narrator of the beauty you are lucky enough to witness on a daily basis.”
I don’t think I’ve ever said this before but something important should happen before you fall in love with kids and their families.
You should decide that you want to (because you actually do).
I used to believe that sometimes you fall in love with specific kids (and groups of kids) and sometimes you don’t. That it all was a matter of luck.
I don’t believe that anymore.
By deciding you want to fall in love with kids and their families, you communicate to others and to yourself (whether you literally say it or not) that you are open to the process.
And if you are open to the process, I’m convinced that the likelihood of it happening is greater.
I have zero psychological evidence for this.
Think of it this way though.
You’re about to run a mile.
Wouldn’t you run better if you decide that you want to run the mile as opposed to just running it (without feeling strongly either way)?
And even if you only run 1% or 2% better, isn’t that 1% or 2% worth it?
And what if that 1% or 2% eventually becomes 5% or 10% or even 15% (or more) over time?
What if you run better each day until you eventually run your best time (and then you do better than that)?
Is it because you decided you wanted to run in the first place?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Honestly, I’d like to think so. I’d like to think – and maybe this is wishful thinking on my part – that you were / are inclined to do better because of your conscious choice.
That you are more receptive to the workings of the universe because you want to be.
I might be totally wrong about this. Try it next year with your kids and see for yourself.
I mean, you can still fall in love with kids and their families without deciding that you want to. It’s more of a matter of chance that way, in my opinion.
I don’t believe something that significant should be left up to chance.
And I genuinely don’t believe you do either.
