Seven weeks ago, I walked into a classroom for the very first time, eager to meet the students I would be teaching and not having any idea how much of an impact they would come to have on me. Today, I walked out of that very same classroom, teary-eyed, after saying goodbye to 41 of the coolest kids I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Leaving a class at the end of a teaching placement has never been easy for me, but this time hit me particularly hard. It is difficult for me to find the words to express just what it was about this group of fourth-graders that charmed me so much, or all of the reasons that our time together was so special, but I suppose that if I had to sum it up, to condense it all into one simple statement, it would be this: they reminded me of what it was like to be 9 years old and helped me see just how far I have come since then.
When I watched, listened to, and spoke with these students, I couldn’t help but see myself and my classmates at that age. I heard the word “crush” and was suddenly back in a sleeping bag on my best friend’s floor, whispering and giggling excitedly about the boys in our class we thought were cute. I saw students drawing during recess and remembered the comic strips my friends used to draw- and all the drama that came with them. I watched students struggle with a math problem and had flashbacks of those horrible timed math fact quizzes that I still sometimes have nightmares about. Watching one student in particular was like staring into a magic mirror and finding myself face-to-face with the little girl I was 12 years ago. I saw in her the same compassion, anxiety, quiet creativity, shyness, and premature wisdom that I had at that age. I watched in awe of these students, remembering exactly what it felt like to be in their shoes and wanting nothing more than to teach them what I know now, not about math, or ELA, or science, but about life. I wanted to tell them everything I needed to hear when I was in their place. But there is only so much time in a school day, and only so many weeks in a student teaching placement, and unfortunately “life lessons from nostalgic college students” isn’t part of the fourth-grade curriculum. I won’t be able to stand in front of those kids and tell them my one great piece of advice, that thing I wish I knew earlier in life that would have saved me lots of tears and given me the extra strength I needed to get through all those crazy adolescent years. Still, that need won’t go away.
So here I am, doing what I do best and putting it all into writing. My students will most likely never see this. They won’t get to hear from this side of Miss C. the way I wish they could. But maybe, just maybe, someone else will. I write with the hope that this message reaches even one little girl or boy out there who is facing this big wide world in need of something to hold on to. I write for the little girl in my heart who needed this 12 years ago. I write to tell them all one thing:
You will be okay.
When your more outgoing best friend gets all the attention of the boy you both have a crush on, you will be okay.
When they call you names for having frizzy hair, glasses, and a unibrow, you will be okay.
When it feels like your heart is going to beat right out of your chest just before your turn in around-the-world, you will be okay.
When you stare down at your homework and doubt that any of that stuff will ever make sense to you, you will be okay.
It might not seem like it in the moment. In fact, I know it won’t. I used to hate it when I was upset about something and the adults in my life would tell me “one day you will look back on this and laugh.” They were right of course, but it didn’t matter. Because in those moments, those feelings weren’t silly. They were real. I wish I could tell you that everything is going to happen exactly the way you want it to, that you won’t ever get hurt, you won’t ever doubt yourself, you won’t ever make mistakes, but I can’t. Your friends will come and go, your grades won’t always be perfect, and you won’t always be the best at everything- or even anything. You will have bad hair days, you will feel left out, and things will make you nervous. You will get embarrassed, you will miss the bus, and you will feel like nobody in the world understands you. All of these things are going to suck. Thats the way life goes. But you will be okay. After all of the hurt, embarrassment, anxiety, and fear, you will feel loved, proud, brave, and happy.
How do I know? Because I was you once. I got picked on, I argued with my friends, I cried over my homework, I felt invisible. But I’m okay. I am stronger now because of all of these things, and yes, I do sit back and laugh at them now.
Today, I received a book full of letters from all of my students. They wrote to me about things I taught them, what they will remember about me, and advice for my future. As the 21 year old me read all of these letters through teary eyes and thanked her lucky stars for the last seven weeks, the little girl in me read in awe, stunned by what she was seeing. One student wrote, “Dear Miss C., I like it when you teach math,” another wrote, “Dear Miss C., you make math so much fun,” and yet another wrote, “I feel like I’m getting better at math because you helped me.” The teacher in me was proud, but that little girl in me was over-the-moon. That little girl who sat at the kitchen table doing math homework for hours every night because she just didn’t understand it, who panicked every time she was called on in math class because she didn’t have the answer yet, who was terrified and embarrassed to ask for help because she felt stupid, who decided long ago that she “wasn’t a math person” and never would be… that little girl grew up to make math fun. She grew up to help another kid do what she struggled to do for so long and actually enjoy doing it. If that doesn’t prove that things can turn out alright in the end, I’m not sure what does.
I couldn’t think of a better way to end this post than with a quote from one of my favorite picture books. It’s a perfect reminder that through it all, whether you are in fourth-grade or your fourth decade, there will always be hurdles to jump and wounds to heal, but you will get through it.
“And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
KID, YOU’LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!
So… be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea, You’re off the Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So…get on your way!”
Dr. Suess, Oh! The Places You’ll Go
And I promise you this, you will be okay.
*Originally published October 2019