Rewards of teaching sometimes doled out in hugs, tears

We teachers think our profession is noble yet underappreciated. But I reckon it’s all about perspective. When I think about other occupations I could have chosen in order to receive the appreciation I desire, I simply hold on to moments like what happened last week. Then, I think to myself, “Teaching ain’t so bad, after all.”

It’s the day before Christmas Break, and there’s a knock on my classroom door. I look through the glass to see a former student in her Army fatigues. I opened the door to her huge smile, and we embraced the kind of hug reserved for the very special moments in our lives. Just moments later, the office informed me of another visitor awaiting. I bounded to the front office and there donned in his college gear was another of my former students. I hugged him like a proud momma. Moments later another call, more visitors, two more students.

The five of us stood in a circle of stories, each taking turns telling about their adventures in college or boot camp, or both!

At one point in our reunion, I crossed my arms in reverie. These kids came back to see me. They searched me out to offer a smile and to hug my neck. Those smiles and those hugs were priceless treasures of thanks no money could ever buy.

Not an hour later, there was another rap at the door — an even bigger surprise. In his Army fatigues was a kid I taught three years ago, a kid who cried in a desperate plea to be removed from my advanced English class because his skillset didn’t match the demands of the course. Way back then, I gave him a different kind of hug. I gave him the side-arm, youth pastor hug to reassure him that I would help him be successful. With tear-stained cheeks, we made a pinky-swear that day that together we would get him through.

And we did.

He graduated and went to work, but his desire was the Army. During his first visit the year after he graduated, he was in street clothes. Getting into the Army was more difficult than he imagined. He struggled to pass the ASVAB – a required basic competency test required for admission. I gave him one of my motivational speeches and he went on his way.

Months later, he made a second visit after a second attempt at the ASVAB. He was still in street clothes. Another speech, another sad goodbye.

Last summer, though, this kid was even more determined. He came up to the school during summer school and sat beside one of our math teachers, Mrs. Roberts. She spent almost every day this past summer tutoring him in math.

The day before Christmas Break, there he was, in his Army fatigues. I jumped in his arms and gave him a different kind of hug this time — the proud momma kind of hug, and we shed a different kind of tear, too. (Side note: he didn’t just make it into the Army finally; he received top awards in his company during boot camp.)

Sometimes, during the daily grind, I lose sight of how important my job is. I’m a dream-maker, a destiny-developer. All of us teachers are, regardless of whether we’re teaching colors and shapes to the little ones, volcanoes to the middle ones, or calculus to the big ones. Ours is not a thankless profession. Take solace in that, my comrades.

This story was originally published January 3, 2017 at 10:23 PM with the headline "Rewards of teaching sometimes doled out in hugs, tears."