Why We Cry

(First written in September 2014).

My husband and I dropped off our elder child at college on Wednesday.  August 20, 2014 will remain in my memory much like the date of his birth.  Of course, I cried.  I am still crying.  I told a coworker that I wasn't done crying yet.

My brother also saw the arrival of his first child lately.  I asked my brother and sister-in-law if they cried when my niece finally arrived.  Their answer was not just yes but, "We both bawled."

Countless parents in Wharton will cry Monday when they send their young children off to school.  Some parents might cry when they drop off their high school freshman, too.  

This morning, just two days after my son stepped into the college world I pondered what made us spontaneously cry.  Tears sprung to my eyes the second I hugged him goodbye.  Why?  After all, I will see him on Saturday.  Why in the world do we cry?

What would make a parent of the bride cry?  I can understand with ease why we cry at death, in our selfish worlds.  We will just plain miss the loved one that has passed away.  What, however, makes us cry at transitions?  Is it fear?

At 5 a.m. I lay in bed and wondered.  

I think it came to me that transitions, like birth, Kindergarten, college, and weddings seem to be occasions in which we cry the most.  It was the transition we cried over, not always the person. 

Lessons from the Other Side of the Desk

My first year of teaching back in 1989 was in Katy, and it was a great one.  I had twenty or so second graders and there were at least seven of us teaching second grade, if memory serves me.  I was extremely surprised when my principal nominated me for the "First Year Teacher of the Year". Mrs. Ursula Stephens felt that I had something worth showing off at the district level.  It truly meant the world to me that she felt that strongly about my work that first year.  I later went on to earn the district title for that award and while I was honored, I couldn't equate the district honor with the campus honor. You see, she had seen me in action.  I wasn't merely what someone had written up on a piece of paper.  In hindsight, I understand that I couldn't become that teacher without a strong team and teamleader.  I was blessed to be across the hall from Anne, my teamleader.  Still twenty-five years later, I can apply a few simple reflections on my teaching:

1.  Seeing is beleiving.  I see students every day, and I almost always get their best.  If a parent asks me how a child is doing I will tell them "great" and not to worry. (If I was concerned I would have already called.)  Sometimes parents stress when a child dips to an 88 after being an all A student.  Though I am a Math specialist, I don't fall victim to the picture painted in a gradebook.  Instead, I look wholistically at the child.  What factors are influencing learning?  Does the student feel a valued member of something bigger?  Do I need to spend more time in a small group setting with certain students?  Am I encouraging growth rather than compliant learning in the classroom? Am I praising children enough to empower them to strive for more?

2.  Postive words have power.  Those kind words from my first year have given me strong legs on which I stand.  One principal's unconditional belief in me has carried me through an few rough years.  I haven't taught for 25 years, several years I stayed home with my boys.  I think my positive words have helped to form them as leaders in their class.  That was a teaching job, too. I took my niece under my wings that first year.  She was a second grader at a neighboring school within the district.  She loved putting stickers on papers and helping me with administrative tasks, in return I gave her a side insight to her second grade experience; she's a teacher now. Though I am not the only teacher she had contact with, I like to beleive that I helped.

3. Teamwork is the structure behind then learning.  We didn't have meetings to quite the depth we do now but everyone in the first team of mine had a purpose.  Sometimes my purpose was only to listen and learn from experienced teachers.  Nonetheless, teamwork gave support.  Your children belong to a team-----it's called my classroom.  When one of us is strong, we all on get stronger.  When one of us is waivering, it can pull the momentum down.

4.  Each person, though part of a team, still needs to be recognized as an individual.  I was that kooky teacher who would stand on desks or chairs to get my point across.  What did that tell my students you ask?  That it was perfectly okay that Marjorie had to stand to complete her assignments, if that is what she needed to do, so long as it didn't interfere with the learning of others.

5.  We all continue to learn for a lifetime.  I still know that I can do better.  Is that the nature of our journey here on earth.  What can I do to become better at what I do?