Screenshot Saturday
I shared this screenshot back in February. When I originally posted this, I reflected on how as a teacher, I tried to do everything. Because I said yes to everything. But now I don’t because I know that what really matters is at home. It has nothing to do with my job.
I originally saved this in February of 2019. Several years before I finally said no for the first time and put my home life first.
But I’m reposting it today because yesterday was quite an interesting day. I shared about the mom I ran into at work, who, actually, I’m going to be working with on a fairly regular basis. Her daughter had just taken the ACT and expressed her gratitude for me and what I taught her in her middle school English classes. Which, let me just say, tickles me because those kids HATED my English class. They always said they loved me but hated my class. I never took offense because I knew once they got to high school they would be thanking me. And year after year, they proved my point. They just hated my class because I made them learn boring grammar and made them write stupid essays and blah, blah, blah. They did at least like most of the books I made them read.
Anyway, last night, when Josh and I were on our way home from dinner, we stopped at Lowe’s. When we were waiting for a self-check out spot to open, I noticed two young men checking out ahead of us. One of them appeared to be younger than the other one. He kept turning to look at me. I didn’t really think anything of it. Then, when the older of the two took his receipt, he didn’t walk towards the door. He turned to look at me too. He asked if I was Mrs. Panter from (name of school where I taught). Come to find out, this was a former student of mine. He told me his name. Which is good because I’ve learned that the boys look more different when they grow up than the girls. I can usually recognize the girls more easily than the boys. Anyway, we chatted for a few minutes. He’s a junior at the same college where I got my master’s degree. He’s pursuing a degree in business. He asked if I was still teaching. I told him no, but that I had been the principal of the school and now work somewhere else. I wished him good luck on the rest of his schooling and told him to tell his family I said hello. Before he walked away with his little brother—his little brother being the one who pointed me out and said he thought I was his teacher—he smiled really big and said what a great teacher I was.
Josh and I then checked out and as we were walking to our car, he joked about my head being super big now. Honestly, it wasn’t. I mean, it’s nice to hear that I made a lasting impression on my students. But it confused me. What was the universe trying to tell me yesterday? I had three separate encounters with people from my old life. People who remember me for who I was as a teacher. Why? This certainly was not a sign that I need to go back to teaching. Absolutely not. As much as I loved being in the classroom, I will not go back. No way.
The end of this screenshot is what caught me when thinking about what happened yesterday—“…you make your highest contribution towards the things that really matter.” I’m thinking of that in terms of my contribution to the lives of my former students. I contributed everything I had. I gave them everything I could in terms of an education. Every bit of my heart was in it. And although I burned out at the end and gave it up to try a different position that I ended up hating. And although I sacrificed a lot of myself…my time at home, my time with my family…when I think about these kids who are successful now and somehow remember that I had a part in their success…despite what I went through to do that for them, it was worth it. I’ll never go back. I’ll never do it again. But what I did do…absolutely worth it. I think that’s what the universe was trying to tell me.
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