Passionate About Cincinnati
and the Moms Who Live Here

Back to School… Dear, dear teacher…

back-toHi. It’s me. The  Mom.

Here we go again. Refreshed (or not so much) after a brief winter break, it’s time for everyone to return to their studies, their educational routines and settle in for the second half of the school year race. The first half of the school year seems to have flown by, yet summer still seems so far away.

I have something I want to tell you. But, well…I’m a little embarrassed. It’s a little tough to say. But (deep breath) here goes.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I will admit, firstly, that we barely know each other. We get moments, perhaps: open houses, the first day of school, the occasional field trip or class party. We are cordial, smiling, like any two strangers who want to impress each other.

And I do hope to impress you. You see, I really, really love my kids. And I can see how much they love you. Little kids are hard-wired to attach to their caregivers, like me and you. Like us, sharing a bond that exists only in the mind of my children. I want to tell you that I’m trying. I’m doing my best.

Like you, I work full-time; my kids have been in some kind of full-time care nearly all their lives. We’ve known many teachers: Competent teachers, struggling teachers, and…yes. Teachers like you. The magical ones.

You were born for this; you seem to have a natural aptitude. If you share a funny anecdote about your weekend, my kid will, with the rest of his classmates, laugh until his belly hurts. And then, he’ll tell me at dinner, giggling again at the memory, his face glowing with affection for you.

You amaze me.

You amaze me.

You amaze me.

Your natural talent might be meaningless without the work you put in, which I also see: The details, the hours, the care. I know that my kid’s eyes are just two of over twenty sets that dance at your stories, laugh at your jokes, moving from activity to activity, focus to fun. I can barely motivate three kids to put on their socks and here you are – Teaching dozens. To read.

I know that you don’t see my kids as part of the crowd. You know they’re each individuals, with individual strengths and challenges. I see the work you do, learning the rough spots, sharpening their skills. I see the leaps they’ve made in the classroom when they’re at home. Loving to learn. Unlearning the hesitance, the fear of trying new things.

I am in awe of your shine, your meticulous classroom with storage pockets everywhere: art supplies storage Tetris-ed with mathematics manipulatives. Every inch of your classroom is carefully structured, colorful, joyful. “You can thrive here,” you tell my kids, without speaking a word.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

You have so much power in your hands, in my child’s life, in my life, in the lives of hundreds of kids over time. Even if my kindergarten memories are hazy, I can remember the sensation of kindness in that classroom. I remember the kindness of teachers who believed in me (and sometimes, the sting of those who didn’t).

I love you. You amaze me. Thank you.

Love,
Me

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