I love my job. There are days that I hate and weeks that drag on forever (this one in fact), but even then I love my job.
I love that my little girls bring me pictures they've drawn with messages to me that only I can decipher. I love that my little guys try to be tough and steer clear of me, but every once in a while, I catch eyes with them and I can tell they really love me and my class. I love that each morning in devotions at least one of them thanks God for their wonderful teacher. I love when they sob into my shoulder over a bonked head or hurt feelings. I love when I have a moment with one of my kids from last year that reminds me that even though they have a "new favorite teacher" they still remember me and want my approval. I love that they say I am the greatest teacher they have ever had in spite of the fact that I am only their second or third teacher and also in spite of the fact that they will say this every year about every teacher they will have until at least 7th grade. It still makes me grin.
I love the academic moments I share with them- when you see them get it for the first time (oh! there's a 13 between 12 and 14), when they sound something out so phonetically and yet so incorrect you want to burst with pride (ie. chraganos, spidr, bedr to name a few).
Being a teacher is hard. I am tired most of the time. Being a teacher also is incredibly special. I get to share in some big and some little moments of these precious little lives.
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