Responsibility

The students that I teach do not have childhoods similar to mine. Some of them have to deal with not having enough to eat, or worrying about money, things children should never have to worry about.

I like to think my parents were hippie-esque. We bought food from a co-op, and drove old cars. Maybe we weren't hippies, and maybe they were stretching every dime that they had. I have a memory of driving down Hwy K with my mom, brother and sister with the muffler falling off our beast of a suburban. My mom had to keep pulling over to tie the muffler back up, and my brother and I, the constant helpers were pulling pieces off of the rug are our feet to give to her to tie the muffler up. I don't remember being embarrassed or worried during this time, instead I remember being doubled over in giggles with Zach, thinking how hilarious it was that our (beautiful and extraordinarily talented) mother couldn't figure out where we were getting the strings from.

I was blessed growing up, and I didn't fully realize or appreciate this until I became a teacher. My family always had clean clothes, food to eat (even though "bean bake" was not my favorite), a warm home, beds to sleep in and love that overflowed our home. Having seen the harsh reality that is childhood to many children in this country and others, I now appreciate and cherish everything my parents did to guide us when we were growing up.

I had dinner with a fellow teacher this week, my friend Sara. She teaches music. We both started at the same time, so we have a lot in common in that regard. We were talking over our yummy food about if, because we were so blessed growing up, we are more responsible for making a difference in the life of a child who is not so fortunate.

We concluded yes.

(Side note, I don't pity my students. They don't need my pity, it will get them nowhere and teach them nothing, they need my love, attention, guidance and hugs.)