So, There's This Girl...

It's that time of year.  Teachers know it well - Dreaded December.  We are all tired.  The newness of the year has worn off. The grading is piling up. The sleep is disappearing.  I have so much grading to do. So much planning and preparation that needs to happen for the rest of my week to run smoothly, but there's this girl. She's my girl. She is a student who I have been blessed to teach for four years, and by golly, she's going to do great things once she leaves our four walls. So, I need to brag on her for a moment.

As a freshman, she doubted everything about herself. Her looks, her ability to learn, her ability to love and be loved. She was added to my impact class, and I saw something in her - she wanted better. She wanted better for herself, her family, and her future family that doesn't exist. And so it began. She trusted me. She trusted that I had her best interests in mind. She let me care about her. She began trying study techniques I suggested (ok, forced her to do). She began thinking before she acted (even if we rehearsed what she was going to say in class if a certain situation came up in the hallway).  She tattled on herself when she got in trouble. She stuck up for the underdog because she (according to the definition only) is an underdog herself. She did all these things, even when there were days she was so mad at me she couldn't see straight.  

Sophomore year was a little better, a lot of drama, but a little more self esteem. A little less poking and prodding, but still a lot of tears.  Junior year, she was asking for note cards to study. She was asking me to look over her work that was completed a few days before the due date. She finally had the one person she needed in her corner fighting for her -- she had herself. She finally started to listen when I told her to "love herself first so that she can let others love her." She began cleaning up her Facebook page because it was filled with hate and anger which did not match the kindness of her heart. She showed resilience. She showed grace and forgiveness. She kept pushing for greatness.   

Senior year, this same girl went from doubting every sentence she wrote as a freshman to writing a 17 page research paper that is full of voice and conviction. She revoked her victim card, having lost a dear loved one to suicide years ago, and she has focused her passion and energy into researching suicide prevention, so that maybe, just maybe, she can save a life of someone who is alone and struggling. She trusts the guidance of her senior English teacher. She trusts the school counselor when she's having a bad day.  So now, now she has three people who call her "their girl". She has three people who talk daily about her progress in class, her plans for the future, and the fact that she needs to get a driver's license (cue eye roll).  

She is the reason so many of us teach. We all look for that one kid. That one kid becomes the reason we come to work, the reason we lose sleep over long breaks, and the reason we work each day to make school a better, safer, happier place. That one kid gets referred to as our "son" or "daughter" because others know how much we care. That one kid who makes us cry like a baby at graduation, and then again the following August when we don't see that familiar smile in the hallway. That one kid who reminds us of those teachers who made a difference in us. So yeah, there's this girl, and I'm pretty lucky to know her.

And now, I need to finish grading quizzes. And they really aren't good. And it really makes me mad because I know how hard we've worked on this strategy in class. So tomorrow we'll try again. I do my best to give these kids my best effort each day because one of these kids could be my next kid, and I will be a better teacher, mother, and person for it.