2023-2024

Teacherhood

 

Teacherhood is knowing that softer voices are more effective than louder ones, that students read better under their desks, that you always hand birthday treats at the end of the day, that kids will not hear the difference between than and then, that children will always choose chocolate chip cookies before oatmeal and raisin, and that if the office supply store is having a Back to School sale on folders but will only let you purchase twenty folders at a time – buy twenty, leave the store, return, grab another twenty, and go to a new register.

Teacherhood is understanding that you should never try to teach anything on Halloween, that when kids start learning cursive they forget how to spell, that students who are usually quiet will become chatty the week before Christmas break, that desks swallow papers, that at any given moment a child could announce something random like he’s been to Denver and saw a banana slug, that best lessons on paper can tank in real life, and that children who are about to throw up get clingy, that reading nothing but comics is like eating only pasta your whole life.

          Teacherhood is knowing that when kids hold up their multiplication flash cards to the light they can see the answers on the back, that children will leave the t out of watch and the second m out of remember, that you always explain the instructions before handing out the blocks (or beans or marshmallows), that cupcake paper is edible, that the pile of red construction paper in the supply room will be lowest in February, that when the air-conditioner man comes into the classroom and starts removing the ceiling tiles – stop teaching, and that when children see their teacher burst out laughing or fight back tears while reading a book – they witness two of reading’s greatest rewards.

          Teacherhood is prying staples out of the stapler with a pair of scissors, following mud tracks to a student’s desk, asking questions about things when you already know the answers, laughing at knock-knock jokes you’ve heard three hundred times,  locating the exact book that a child is searching for when all she knows is that it has a yellow cover, knowing that a storm is coming without looking outside, pushing desks that have crept up throughout the day back to their original places, , and counting to five while each child takes a drink at the drinking fountain so that no kid hogs all the water.

 

Excerpt from Close Encounters of the Third Grade Kind: Thoughts on Teacherhood (2009), Phillip Done