Dear Future Frazzled Teacher Self,

{specifically, future me who is a frazzled teacher after the chipper August teacher fades away},

Picture that kid.  The one who walks in late.  Every. Single. Morning.

Or the one who never--and I mean NEVER--sits still on the carpet.

The one who screams from the fetal position under his desk, "I HATE YOU!" {Yes, it happened.}

The one who drops 5 bazillion tiny pieces of pencil shavings on the carpet around her desk.

The one who flips over his chair at least 23.5 times a day.

The one who hugs you until it would be considered an awkward hug if it were an adult.

The one who makes your skin crawl by smiling while you are redirecting her behavior.

The one who makes you think you actually may not know how to teach after all because he hasn't learned a single thing.  All. Year. Long.

The one who taps on your elbow repeating your name over and over and over.....and over about 546 times a day--making you wish you never heard your own name again.

The one who pees all over your carpet.  On purpose.  Because, you know, she's mad at you.

The one who knows it all.  And knows he knows it all.

The one you chased down the hallway after he escaped from your classroom.

Picture that kid, Future Frazzled Teacher Self.  And then remember these wise words from Daddy...
{truth time: My dad stole that quote from a Superintendent from the poverty stricken Delta in Arkansas.}

And then remember...
Sometimes their best cries for mommy every morning for the first two weeks of school.

Sometimes their best interrupts you every time you open your mouth.

Sometimes their best seems to hate you with every fiber of her being.

But it's their best.  He is their pride and joy.  She is their world.  He is a little piece of them.  And in the words of my wise Great Uncle....

That's somebody's sweetheart.

So after the excitement of August has dwindled.  When you quit curling your hair and start throwing it up in a messy bun and hope no one notices.  When you give yourself a pep talk just to get out of bed.  And when you go to bed expecting a snow day and wake up shocked to no snow on the ground...

When that happens, remember...you have 25 little people who belong to somebody.  Who are somebody's sweetheart.  Who want so desperately to be your sweetheart too.  So stand tall.  You can do this.  You can teach the unteachable.  You can love the unloveable.  You can treat those babies like the most precious possessions that they are: children of God.  You can do this.

Be a light.  Be a beacon in the dark.  Be the teacher who welcomes weary children.  Be the safe haven.  And remember the words etched in lady liberty as you love your children with open arms.

Love,
Your Peppy Back-To-School Teacher Self


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