"That" Teacher

“That” Teacher

As an educator, I’m often to asked to reflect on my childhood experiences as a student and identify “that” teacher--the one who made a profound impact in my life, “that” teacher who made me want to come to school, “that” teacher who made learning unforgettable, “that” teacher who noticed me, “that” teacher who inspired me, “that” teacher I’ll always remember.  For many of us, we don’t realize who “that” teacher is until we’ve passed through their doors for the final time.  If you happen to be “that” teacher for a student, the notification rarely arises while that student is still in your care.

What happens when the moment hits you and you realize that you ARE “that” teacher for a student?  I’ve thought about this post for over a year and could never bring myself to sit down and express all of the weight and joy that this realization carries, until now.  

It began in my living room floor, summer 2014, two months before I moved to a small Caribbean island.  After 17 years of combined teaching and administrative experience, I accepted an offer to teach first grade in a small private school.  Before packing the last of my moving boxes, I made pirate cards and wrote individual messages to each of my soon-to-be first graders.  I placed my school picture in each card before sealing the envelopes and sending them 2,000 miles away.  Many of you reading this have done similar practices with your incoming students.  It’s not uncommon for such to occur, especially at the elementary level.  However, I had the unique privilege to see something, seven months later, that I’ll never forget.

After being with my “Firsties” (aka Pirates) for the better part of a school year, I was invited to join one family for dinner.  That evening I was my student’s guest of honor, his chosen incentive for participating in a local competition, something that his parents and I collectively encouraged and challenged him to do, despite his fears.  Little did I know, before arriving at his home, that a series of instances would happen that night that made me realize, walking through the moments--I was “that” teacher.  Even more incredible--I was “that” teacher for a 6-year old who had his entire education ahead of him.  

I walked in to find him preparing my dinner.  Yes, he had prepared two types of pizza for me.  I was taken on a tour of the house.  When we reached his bedroom, his mother pointed out something to me that still brings tears to my eyes:  the pirate card, the one that I had written and sent to him in June, was hanging on the wall by his bed with my picture displayed.  It nearly took my breath away.  I wasn’t just his first grade teacher… I was “that” teacher.  A while later we were back downstairs and I noticed three small handwritten notes taped to the kitchen island.  They were numbered and read: #1 I heart (love) you Ms. Stephanie!  #2  You’re the best teacher in history! (Maybe even person!)  #3 You’re the best person in all the other galaxies, including this one!  I was “that” teacher. Needless to say, my seat at dinner was chosen for me--right next to him.  As the dinner plates were being cleared, I was offered an assortment of ice cream flavors to choose from (he knew that I loved and missed ice cream from Texas).  Again, I was “that” teacher.  That night, unquestionably, was a top moment of my career.  It didn’t happen at school or even during school hours. There were no standards taught or assessed.  Instead, I took in every moment and was in awe as I reflected on our year together and every cumulative choice that I had made to connect with him, share my passions, know his happiness and insecurities, challenge his skills, and love him unconditionally.

Fast forward, less than two months later, I was invited back to dinner.  It was my last day as his teacher, two days before I moved back to Texas, and the mood was much more somber.  That card and picture still hung on the wall above his bed, as it had since June.  However, this was the last night that I would see him until our paths crossed again and neither of us knew when that would be.  He celebrated his 7th and 8th birthdays, many holidays came and went, and we Facetimed several times over the course of a year.  With each Facetime, I captured a picture of us on the screen and sent it to his mom.  Those pictures stay in my camera roll just like that card and picture hanging above his bed.  It was an emotional year because I knew what I meant to him, his mother too, and he watched me go through a challenging medical diagnosis and treatment.  Though his conversations through the year were often cautious (he was hiding the worry in his heart), he never stopped being one of my greatest champions.  The pictures that I received of him wearing my cancer shirt made me smile.  Every green (my favorite color and now his too) letter that he wrote and decorated with hearts made my heart happy.  He will never truly understand how he helped me heal.  He’s such a joyous, inquisitive, and thoughtful soul.

I truly believe that it’s no coincidence that his grandmother lives about an hour from my home.  Of all of my former Firsties, his stateside family is practically in my backyard.  Of all of the places on this planet that he could possibly visit this summer, his travels brought him here.  Although his mother and I made arrangements for us to spend a day together, we didn’t reveal that I was going to be at baggage claim when they arrived in Texas.  June 6, 2016, Dallas/Ft. Worth International Airport, Delta Flight 0029 from Atlanta: Delayed nearly four hours.  Originally scheduled to land at 8:40 pm, my anticipation and excitement were pushed to 12:40 am, June 7, 2016.  I anxiously stood on the exit side of E15. His mom walked through the doors first and simply smiled.  She moved slightly to her right and just behind her was “that” sleepy-eyed student.  When our eyes met, neither of us spoke a word. The smile on his face said it all.  Thank you, Andrea, for allowing me to live that moment and capturing a simple picture that says it all.  Thank you, Dax, for teaching me what an honor it is to be “that” teacher.  Because of you, I get to experience the remarkable reward of sharing my passions with the world.  

Never underestimate the power of each and every choice that you make with students.  Something as simple as a handwritten note and a picture forever changed my perspective on placing relationships first, everything else second.