In my common daily work, I am a teacher.
I like my work and teaching is in my bones.
(Better yet, it is the job I dreamed of as a little girl.)
In a short amount of time, I have already been someone's teacher thousands of times over.
Hence, I hold a lot of stories about this life I lead in a classroom and write about them here.
There are times when it wears me down and out, and other times I believe it's one of the most noble things that can be done.
For the times when it's somewhere in between, ink and letters help.
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What I do write about:
|| unavoidable middle school awkwardness (sans names and with dignity intact) ||
|| my fascination with history ||
|| the litany, prayer life, self speak, and cadence of teaching I have learned is all my own ||
||the joys - small and holy - of teaching in the middle ||
What I don't write about:
|| students' names ||
|| personal stories and family difficulties ||
|| the good, bad, and ugly of said school where I teach ||
|| the elements of life as a teacher that bring about stories that are not my own||
In short, no pictures, names, implications, etc.
In work with other peoples' children, I am carefully carefully careful.
I'd want the same for my own child too.
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Every time someone commends the teaching life, I think about the difference between humanity looking great from a far away and how raw humans can actually be when observing them up close. (And how raw I can be too.) We are certainly ragamuffins in need of a gospel and a Savior.
No matter what, in teaching in middle school
I have been given some of the most
beautiful and humbling lessons of my life.
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