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I'm not shy about about telling people what I do. I'm a teacher.

I came to to this place after much struggle, heartache, and soul-searching.

And here I was today, the last full day of school (we'll have early dismissal days on Mon., Tue., and Wed., of next week) with my eighth graders, many of whom I've known since kindergarten and many of whom I've taught their older brothers and sisters, extolling the virtues of dreaming big, of trying, of not being afraid to fail, and of giving to others first in order to live a successful and fulfilling life, when in walks a beautiful and very poised young lady from years gone by. Hollywood's got nothing on this.

Megan is a senior in high school now. She moved to Florida after her eighth grade year here in New Jersey. She was (and still is) a wonderful person. I remember her well. She visits her dad in New Jersey about twice a year. And each time she comes back "home," she always makes it a point to visit me, her seventh and eighth grade teacher. Today was a surprise of a different sort though.

I teach three periods of 8th grade reading in the morning and three periods of 7th grade in the afternoon. I had already ranted and raged to my first two periods when my "advanced" third period students walked in for the final time this morning. On and on I went with readings from John Wooden, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and other noted philosopher teachers and coaches. My kids listened intently. They love me because they know I love and respect each of them. That's not some pie in the sky notion for me. Whether or not I've deluded myself into thinking that what I do matters, doesn't really matter to me because it what has sustained me over these past twelve years.

"Megan, what are you doing here today?" I asked her, seemingly out of the blue after she had entered the room some minutes earlier and sat quitely while I lectured kids who had no idea who she was or what she was doing in "their" classroom.

"I came to visit you, Mr. C.," was her response.

"Why?" Why would you come back to this class after all these years?"

"Because I once had a teacher in 7th and 8th grade tell me that I could do anything I put my mind to and I want to be a teacher just like him. Just like you, Mr. C. I wanted to thank you."

She has no idea.

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June 14, 2008 12:28 AM ET

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Wow,that must mean a lot.

(Cincy)

Jamestown, OH

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June 14, 2008 01:21 AM ET

And this is why you do the job you do. Life wouldn't be the same without teachers. Period.

Today was a hard day for my 11 year old daughter. Last day of school, two teachers leaving, lots of tears. As much as she complained during the year, she will miss those who helped her become the person she is today.

Being a teacher is severly under rated. As well as underpaid.

LoveItHateIt

Portland, OR

Total Comments (1874)

June 14, 2008 08:52 AM ET

Wow, Gator, that must feel great to know that you impacted at least one person in that way. Congratulations.

G.O.A.T.

Scranton, PA

Total Comments (12538)

June 16, 2008 01:22 AM ET

Great blog, Gator. I coach, and I'm studying to become a high school ag teacher, mostly because of stories just like these. It's awesome to see people succeed, and it is a priceless feeling to know that you had a small part in their success. Keep up the good work, my friend.