Having been held hostage by the whims of the cutest sort of five-year-old juvenile delinquents and lived to tell the tale, I have given some thought to the unlimited number of things I was not taught in teacher training, so as to prepare me for these uncertain days in which I find myself now: as a real teacher.
We are fooling ourselves if we think that full-day kindergarten is anything more than a glorified babysitting service. A four- or five-year-old child may benefit from a few hours of schooling each day, but six hours straight? Is this really for the benefit of the child, or the parents and well-paid teaching staff?
To teach is to forever be a part of something bigger. Is to forever be a piece of that sacred puzzle which creates something profound from that which is very small. That is the beauty of the life of a child. To teach is to touch lives. To listen. To lift. To motivate. To compel. To inspire. To encourage. To enrich. And above all, to teach is to use one's life to make a difference.
If anyone had told me three years ago I would be teaching kindergarten, I would have politely laughed at them. If anyone had told me one of my students would be my charming daughter, I would have (politely) laughed at them and then high-tailed it for the next bus out of town. The truth is, I love it.
It's August, so inevitably just about everything, at every turn, is back to school-related. But some of us aren't sending our kids back to school -- we're sending them off to school for the first time. My first-born -- my baby boy who's actually four-years-old and no longer resembles a baby in any way except in my mind -- starts junior kindergarten in less than a month. We are so not ready.