To Be Remembered

Dear Nana,

As you well know, being a teacher has its ups and its downs. There are days when the thought of Christmas vacation is the only thing that gets me through the day. Then there are days when my 2nd graders have me laughing all day long. But one of the best parts about being a teacher, I think, is knowing that no matter what I do in the future or where I go, I'll be remembered.

All children remember their grade school teachers. Elementary school children spend more time with their teachers than they do with anyone else, even their parents. When they move on to middle and high school with homerooms and sections and 7-period days, the time spent with individual teachers wanes. Perhaps that's why middle school and high school teachers are often less remembered. I can only remember a few of my middle and high school teacher's names and even fewer of their faces. But elementary teachers, we are a different story. We are more than teachers, instructing them in math and reading and science. We are also parents on Monday through Friday from 8 until 4. We wipe tears and gently place bandaids on scraped knees. We read our favorite stories to them and sing with them and make sure they eat their lunches. We help them tidy their things, encourage them not to give up in the face of obstacles, and listen to their hopes and dreams. We try to instill good manners and kindness and respect. We place lost teeth in plastic baggies zipped tight to ensure a safe trip home at the end of the day to be placed under a pillow.

So how will my students remember their 2nd grade year with me? They will most likely forget the order of the planets from the sun and the number of bones in the human body. They will most likely forget the words to the Harriet Tubman song and the name of their 2nd grade pen pal. What they will remember about me, I do not know. But the fact that they will remember is enough.

It is obvious from that glowing letter I shared with you a few weeks ago that Timmy Pragai remembers you. I'm sure countless others who graced your classroom desks over your decades as a teacher, still think of you fondly. Perhaps they remember your demand for precise grammar or your strong belief in good penmanship. Maybe they remember how your wore your hair. They might remember a book you read aloud to them or a trick you taught them to memorize their multiplication tables. Whatever it is that they remember, whatever image or words or ideas they've held onto and carried with them through life, you, nor I will ever know. But the simple fact of remembering means that you left your mark on the lives of all the little souls who passed through your classroom doors. And just knowing that I, too, will be remembered, that I, too, am leaving my mark a little each day, is an amazing feeling. Because to be remembered, well, isn't that what life is all about?

Love, Katie