The past two days I’ve been immersed in graduations. My oldest daughter graduated high school, and my youngest daughter graduated middle school. For each of them, they’ve been at their particular schools for quite a few years now. I watched them march across their stages, thinking back to how much younger they were when they each started at their schools, with all the requisite tears, pride, and happiness that accompany those reflections. I watched my eighth grader and all her peers put on some truly impressive musical performances. I watched my 12th grader and her peers–all of whom have some significant learning disabilities–give powerful speeches in front of an audience (something I do for a living now, but probably couldn’t have handled when I was 18). I marvel at their transformation, from little girls, to young ladies, to strong, beautiful women.
And slightly off to the side at these events, I see the teachers, busily re-sizing microphones, and moving chairs, and hushing the younger students. They beam with pride, just like I do, as each student crosses the stage. Some of these teachers helped my daughters back when they were little girls, and are, of course, now helping another set of little girls grow up. Others may have only come to know my girls in the last year or two—which meant dealing with them in full teenager-dom—but they have that same glow of pride all the same. They love my girls and look so happy to see them moving on to that next level.
Think about that for a minute. These are not THEIR children, yet they love them as much as I love my own kids. And to be honest, during the school years they might have collectively put in more hours in making sure my kids were safe and loved and learning and growing than I did! I was off building my career, doing my important work, writing my book, and all the while the teachers were with my children during the day, giving them what they needed to continuously make it to the next level. I’m not trying to discount my role as a parent, of course, but I think we need to highlight the amazing effort the teachers are putting in.
So thank you, teachers. Thank you so much for loving my children like your own. Thank you for putting up with their attitude, and thank you for believing in their potential. Thank you for giving them the “tough love” sometimes, and thank you for sometimes having to work hard to convince them of how wonderful, smart, and powerful they truly are. I come to the graduation ceremonies and I shake your hands and smile, but it’s not an adequate expression of my gratitude, my deep appreciation, and my outright awe at how much you do, not just for me personally and my specific kids, but for our whole society.
Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.