Grateful Friday

 Janelle and I send each other relatable things on Instagram.  This was the other evening:

The end of the year is a wild ride.  Yesterday we were cleaning desks.  I have a document I project on the board.  It is a chart with the item on the left and what to do with it on the right.  (For example:  white basket:  stack on the table) Last year my class had their desks empty in about 15 minutes and everything was put in the correct place.

This year, I had a only a handful who got it done.

Then there were the kids who can't really read, so the handy chart wasn't that helpful.  Then there were the kids who didn't listen to a single thing I said.  Then there were the kids with ADHD.  (Literally about half of them.)

Um, you shouldn't be reading right now.  We are cleaning desks.

No, you actually aren't done.  See how there are still things in your desk?

Why are you wandering over here?  We are cleaning desks.

No, don't throw that away! (As they walk dreamily toward the garbage carrying things like my books.)

We got through it!

They have given me plenty to feel angsty about, but on this, the last day of school, I also feel grateful.

I feel grateful that I was the one they hugged exuberantly.  I feel grateful I was the one who supplied bandaids and sympathy and pep talks when they were hurt.  I feel grateful I got to be the one to hear about their happy things and their sad things.  I feel grateful for the ways they improved and for the ways they stretched me.  I've never worked so hard! I'm grateful for every love note they wrote me and every time they laughed at my dumb jokes.  I am grateful for every time they said, "Hey!  That's like you taught us!"

I'm grateful for my former students who came in to have me sign their yearbooks.  I would tell them it would cost a quarter and a few of them looked uncomfortable and I would say, "I'm kidding!"

I told one boy (and he was one of my favorites) it would cost a quarter.  He pulled a dollar bill out of his pocket and said, "Keep the change."

I told him I was kidding and he smiled the same crooked grin that delighted me every day a few years ago and he said, "I know."

I'm grateful for the mother who told me that when her younger son was sad, her older son who has been my student said, "Mrs. Davis always says mistakes are proof you are trying."

The year wasn't perfect.  We made mistakes.  They are still mostly below grade level.  Lining up still takes a Herculean effort on my part.  But we tried.

Oh, how we tried!