|I haven't ordered this t-shirt. . . yet!|
Travel back in time with me.
My younger brother, Pete, was born when I was in 4th grade. Previously, I had a ten year starring role in the family as the youngest. I was excited to be a big sister, but I became needy. Needy & lonely in a way that quiet, bookish girls can become.
At least once a day, I would go to the back of the room where my teacher quietly wrote lesson plans or graded papers. Her grade book was immaculate, each percentage fitting perfectly into a teeny green box. I would stand with my hands behind my back - waiting. She would finish what she was doing, fold her hands on her desk, and look at me. Then she did the most wonderful thing! She would listen to me talk. Believe me when I say, I would talk and talk AND talk. I don't remember what I told her, but I do remember talking . . . a lot.
She could have told me she was too busy. She could have let me talk while she continued grading. She could have run in the opposite direction every time she saw me coming. But. She didn't. She gave me her full attention and listened.
Currently, I am a reading specialist for middle school students. Students often want to chat with me. Sometimes I don't want to chat. I want to complete my paperwork, check my emails, and go to the bathroom. Maybe even talk with an adult. But. I remember my 4th grade teacher and the love she gave me - just by listening. Everyday. No matter what she was doing.
I now have my teacher's address. (A little "Nancy Drew Sleuthing" came into play here. For some reason I knew that my dear friend is friends with my teacher's son. See? It isn't hard to find someone's address!) After I post this blog, I will write her a letter. I feel blessed that I am able to tell her how much she means to me.