Apology To None

When I am introduced as a teacher, I am usually asked what I teach.
When I say, "first grade", I generally hear a very flat  "oh".
I have never been certain whether it is an expression of pity, sympathy, 
disgust, or perhaps disinterest.
Always I wish I had the time to explain to them like this:
YES, I teach first grade.
WHERE ELSE would a handsome young man put his arms around me and ask
"Do you know that I'll always remember and love you?"
WHERE ELSE could I tie so many hair ribbons and belts and daily get 
to see a style show of pretty dresses and shirts?
WHERE ELSE could I walk up and down aisles and have little warm 
hands reach out to me?
WHERE ELSE could I have the privilege of wiggling loose teeth 
and receive the promise that I may pull them when they are loose enough 
and sometimes I do?
WHERE ELSE would I eat a spoiled piece of candy from a grimy little hand
and not become ill? (I have to eat it because he watches me to see that I do!)
WHERE ELSE would the future look so bright as it does amid an energetic
group to whom nothing is impossible?
WHERE ELSE could I guide the first letter formations of a chubby little hand 
that may some day write a book or an important document?
WHERE ELSE could I forget my own aches and pains because of so many cut fingers,
scratched knees, bumped heads and broken hearts that need care?
WHERE ELSE could I forget cares and even "the state of the nation"
because Stevie isn't grasping Reading as he should and other methods must be tried.
WHERE ELSE would the mind have to stay so young as with a group whose attention 
span is so short that I must always keep a "bag of tricks" up my sleeve?
WHERE ELSE could I feel so close to my MAKER as I do each year when, 
because of something I've done, little children learn to read?
YES, I teach first grade, Mr. and Mrs. America, and I LOVE IT!

-Author Unknown

What Do Teachers Make?

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life.
One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued:
"What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?" 

He reminded the other dinner guests that it's true what
they say about teachers: "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach."
To corroborate, he said to another guest: "You're a teacher, Susan," he said.
"Be honest. What do you make?" Susan, who had a reputation of honesty and frankness,
replied, "You want to know what I make?"
"I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I can make  a
C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor and an A- feel like a C+ slap in
the face if the student did not do his or her very best."
"I can make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence."
"I can make parents tremble in fear when I call home."
"You want to know what I make?"
"I make kids wonder." "I make them question."
"I make them criticize." "I make them apologize and mean it."
"I make them write." "I make them read, read, read."
"I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, and definitely beautiful
over and over and over again, until they will never misspell either one of those words again."
"I make them show all their work in math and hide it all on their final
drafts in English."
"I make them understand that if you have the brains, then follow your heart
... and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make, you pay them
no attention."
"You want to know what I make?"
 "I make a difference."
"What about you?

Teachers

We have the responsibility of teaching those children
Who put chocolate fingers everywhere.
Who like to be tickled.
Who stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants.
Who sneak popsicles before supper.
Who erase holes in math books.
Who can never find their shoes.

We have the responsibility of teaching those children:
Who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire fences.
Who don't have new sneakers.
Who never counted ‘potatoes'
Who are born in places we wouldn't be caught dead.
Who never go to the circus.
Who live in an X-rated world.

We have the responsibility of teaching those children:
Who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions.
Who sleep with the dog and bury dead goldfish.
Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
Who sing off-key.
Who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink.
Who slurp their soup.

We have the responsibility of teaching those children:
Who never get dessert.
Who have no safe blanket to drag behind them.
Who watch their parents watch them die.
Who can't find any bread to steal.
Who don't have any rooms to clean up.
Whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser.
Whose monsters are real.

We have the responsibility of teaching those children:
Who spend all their allowance before Tuesday.
Who like ghost stories.
Who shove dirty clothes under the bed.
Who never rinse out the tub.
Who get visits from the tooth fairy.
Who don't like to be kissed in front of the carpool.
Who squirm in church and scream in the phone.
Whose tears we sometimes laugh at... and whose smiles can make us cry.

~Anonymous~

The Star Polisher 

 
I have a great job in the universe of occupations.
What do I do?
I’m a “star polisher”.
I have a very important job.
If you want to know how important
Just go out at night and look at the stars.
Twinkling and sparkling.
You see, I’m a teacher.
The stars are the children in my class.
My job is to take them in-
In whatever shape they’re in-
And shine and buff them and send them out to take
Their places as bright little twinkling beacons in the sky.
They come in my room in all shapes and sizes.
Sometimes they’re bent, tarnished, dirty, crinkly, and broken.
Some stars are cuddly, soft, and sweet.
Some stars are prickly and thorny.
I tell them that the world cannot do without them.
I tell them they can do anything they set their minds to do.
I tell them they can be the brightest, shiniest stars in the sky
and the world will be a better place because of them.
Each night as I look at the sky, I'm reminded of my very
important job and awesome responsibility.
I go and get my soft buffing cloth and my bottle of polish in preparation
for tomorrow and for my class of little stars.

~Leah Becks~

I Didn't Know
I didn't know that years of school and a college degree would be 
of little consolation when facing a room full of bright little eyes 
on the first day of school. I thought I was ready...
I didn't know that five minutes can seem like five hours when there 
is idle time and an eight hour school day far too short for a 
well-planned day of teaching.
I didn't know that teaching children was only a fraction of my job. 
No one tells you about the conferences and phone calls, faculty 
meetings and committees, paperwork and paperwork...
I didn't know that it took so long to cut out letters, draw and 
color pictures, laminate-all for those bulletin boards that were 
always "just there"...
I didn't know that I would become such a scavenger, and that teaching
 materials would feel like pure gold in my hands... 
I didn't know that an administration and co-workers that support 
and help you could make such a difference...
I didn't know that there would be children that I loved and cared 
for and stayed up late worrying about, who, one day, 
would simply not show up. 
And that I would never see them again...
I didn't know that I can't always dry little tears and mend 
broken hearts. I thought I could always make a difference...
I didn't know that the sound of children's laughter could drown 
out the sound of all the world's sadness...
I didn't know that children could feel so profoundly.
A broken heart knows no age.
I didn't know that a single "yes ma'am" from a disrespectful child 
or a note in my desk that says "You're the best!" could make me feel 
like I'm on top of a mountain and forget the valleys I forged to get there...
I never knew that after one year of teaching I would feel so much 
wiser, more tired, sadder and happier, all at once.
And that I would no longer call teaching my job,
but my privilege.

First is Best

Yes, I teach the first grade.
Where else would a handsome and very young man put his arms around me and ask, "Do you know that I love you?"
Where else would I tie so many hair ribbons and belts and daily get to see a style show of pretty dresses and shirts?
Where else could I wear the same dress day after day and be told each time that it is pretty?
Where else could I walk up and down aisles and have warm hands touch me?
Where else could I have the privilege of wiggling loose teeth and receive a promise that I may pull them when they are loose enough?
Where else could I eat a soiled piece of candy from a grimy little hand and not get ill? (I have to eat it because he watches to see that I do.)
Where else would the future look as bright as it does amid an energetic group to whom nothing is impossible?
Where else could I guide the first letter formations of a chubby little hand that may some day write a book or an important document?
Where else could I forget my own aches and pains because of so many cut fingers, scratched knees, bumped heads and broken hearts that need care?
Where else could I forget taxes and even "the state of the nation" because Stevie isn't grasping reading as he should and other methods must be tried?
Where else would my mind have to stay so young as with a group whose attention span is so short that I must always keep a "bag of tricks up my sleeve"?
Where else could I feel so close to my Maker as I do each year when, because of something I have done, little children learn to read?
Yes, I do teach the first grade, Mr. and Mrs. America. And I love it!

by Mrs. Janet Gorell Meyer

Teachers Just Babysitters

article written by Fred Farkle

It’s been said a thousand times, and now it’s time to act. Teachers today are just babysitters for their students. Hamstrung by the “No Child Left Behind” act, ineffectual school districts that are more like petty bureaucracies and their inability to administer corporal punishment, teachers have been reduced to little more than babysitters. It’s time to treat them that way. Teachers' hefty salaries are driving up taxes, and they only work 9 or 10 months a year! 

Let’s put things in perspective and pay them for what they do, baby sit!  We can get that for less than minimum wage. That's right. Let's give them $3.00 an hour and only the hours they worked, not any of that silly planning time.  That would be $19.50 a day (7:00 AM to 3:30 (or so) PM with just .25 min. off for lunch).   Each parent should pay $19.50 a day for these teachers to baby-sit their children. 

Now do the math.  How many do they teach in a class, 30?  So that's $19.50 x 30 =$585.00 a day. However, remember they only work 180 days a year!!! we're not going to pay them for any vacations. LET'S SEE... That's $585 x 180= $105,300 per year. 

What about those special teachers and the ones with master's degrees?  Well, we could just pay them minimum wage, and just to be fair, round it off to $7.00 an hour. That would be $7 x 6 ½ hours x 30 children x180 days = $245,700 per year. 

Wait a minute, there's something wrong here!  If an average teachers salary is $50,000/180 days = $277/per day /students = $9.23/6.5 hours = $1.42 per hour per student. A very inexpensive baby-sitter and they even try - with your help - to EDUCATE our kids! WHAT A DEAL... And we don't even have to buy  pizza!