Honor Where Honor is Due

It is not my intention to establish a trend of negative gripe-sessions. My best efforts are often directed at putting distance between myself and those who demand more than their share of "cheese with whine." There will always be a wrench in the gears, a hitch in the crawl, or a greenie missing from the Tinker-Toy set of life. In the words of those whose grit and resolve were fashioned in the merciless tides of nautical exploration, "You can't control the winds, but you can adjust your sails."

Since August, I can honestly say that my sails have been left luffing in the shifting winds of a new career rather than full and tight, positioned, adjusted, and properly reefed before the howling gusts. To be plain, it has not been what I expected and I have often wanted to shout down the corridors of the educational infrastructure with all the force I could muster: "Just leave me alone and let me teach my students!"

But I won't. I refuse to do just that because of a refreshing realization that broke itself upon my thinly-spread comprehension this past month: They have, in point of fact, given me my unspoken wish. They have left me alone.

By "they" I am referring to those whom I work for and work with: from the district department heads, to the administrators of my school, my mentor teacher and my fellow-teachers, and to the parents of my students, every one who has contributed to the monumentous tide of endless to-do's has neither reprimanded, scolded, badgered, or even so much as hinted at the countless mis-steps, mistakes, loose-ends, and inconsistencies that I, as a new teacher, have committed (with the exception of the sharp phone calls to my classroom from the PEIMS Clerk who has about had it with my botched attendance efforts. I can't blame her, really. She should get a cushy holiday bonus just for the extra work I've given her).

Much to the contrary, since the week of professional development, I have been treated as if I hung the moon, invented the multi-purpose Xerox machine (a teacher's indispensible ally), and discovered coffee (a teacher's indispensible addiction). I am stopped in the halls by colleagues whose names I can't even remember (for which I sincerely apologize - thank God for name badges) to extend congratulations for all the great things they have heard about me. My administrators publish observations that paint a Harry Wong-esque picture of my interactions with students and clap me on the back as if I am an authority in the field. While horror stories are swapped in the teachers lounge about volatile encounters with lunatic parents, I have had only "thank-you's," "great-job's" and "I'm-so-glad-you're-my-child's-math-teacher's" cascading into my email from grateful, encouraging mothers and fathers.

Now, I am not so naive enough as to believe that my faux paux's have managed to slip by unnoticed; in point of fact, they have been all-too-obvious. Still, the people I work for and with have proven patient, supportive, encouraging, and, most importantly, forgiving. The past 3 months would have swallowed me whole were it not for their confidence in me inspite of my more-rookie-than-Wong teaching abilities. It is to them I am indebted, and them I honor. Thank you.