Aliens Have Abducted My Students

Interesting. I am convinced that, during Spring Break, the city of New Braunfels was covertly invaded by extraterrestrials who successfully abducted all middle school-aged children, replacing them with bio-engineered duplicates specifically (and diabolically) designed to DRIVE THEIR TEACHERS NUTS! What happened?! They were so sweet and innocent before they went on Spring Break. I need an aspirin and a weekend . . .

Open and Honest

Every once in a while a blogger wonders if, upon reading his previous entries, he should delete that last one. "Perhaps I was too negative," he wonders. "What if those I work for see my opinion about certain issues as personal attacks on them or as the irrational outbursts of a pessimist?" Maybe it would be wise to put a sock in my personal convictions for the sake of self-preservation and just lay low. Perhaps, maybe, who knows.

I believe that honesty, however anachronistic, is still the best policy. I believe that the thoughtful opinions of those who spend the day-to-day on the front lines and have a genuine, heart-felt concern for the things that could and should be better are of the greatest value. I believe that political correctness is a ruse employed by those who are more interested in dodging the axe rather than going down with the Truth. I believe the Truth is worth going down with and those who embrace it to their detriment are the finest company to be had.

So here is the truth: I became a teacher because I want to be a part something bigger than myself. I want to make the most of the short time and breath I have been given to make someone's life a little (or, if I give it a solid go, a lot) better. I want to pass on to the next generation what I have been given: an understanding of my own significance, a foundation on which to discover and develop my purpose, and, out of that, the chance to give of myself until I ultimately have nothing left save a deep sense of a job well-done, a life well-invested.

So how can a guy fulfill such a lofty, idealistic ambition as a middle school math teacher? I'm not sure; you would have to ask a guy who teaches math. I, on the other hand, am a mentor of the children who enter my room each and every day. True, every day, offer instruction in pre-algebra. Every day, I plan for the next math lesson, design math projects, and assign math homework, and tutor students who struggle in math so that they, hopefully, can pass the state's math test with the score by which they will be identified as often as the name their mother gave them at birth. But this is not what drives me to be in my classroom early in the morning and remain long after my contract time is up.

What gets me up in the morning is the knowledge that, while many of my students will forget to bring their pencils and homework assignments to class today, they will bring with them, each and every day, the crushing weight of a world that is unfathomably more complicated and less innocent than the one I grew up in. More of them than I care to admit come from places and people than can hardly be considered homes and families, at least not according to my understanding of a home and family. For many of them, school is safer, warmer, and contains more love and protection than any other place in the world. They fill my classroom before and after the school bell has rung just to be somewhere and with someone that will listen to them, believe in them, offer them a modicum of hope, and, if not but for a brief respite, a moment to let their guard down and simply be a twelve-year-old child.

Who would imagine that a child's middle school math teacher's classroom would be a haven? When I needed protection and acceptance, security and someone to let me know it would be okay, I ran home. These kids run anywhere but home. What kind of childhood is that?

Earlier this week I was told that, chances are, I may not be teaching next year. The politicians need money, so, of course it makes sense to take it away from that public service that is superfluous and disposable: the education of our children. What can I say except, I am grateful to and honored by the administrators and parents who entrusted their children to me each and every day this year. I hope the kids found something in our times of hard work and laughter and candid conversation to take and make their own. I hope they found at least a small part of themselves, at least enough to open their eyes to their immense value as precious and irreplaceable. I hope they leave my room on the last day with the courage and resolve to face any problem and fight for the solution.

I hope every one of them slays thier dragon.