Teaching: How I fell in love.

We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why.

Stephen King, 1963

Teaching is hard, exhausting, frustrating, depressing, anxiety-ridden and at times downright heartbreaking.

But regardless, I still love it.

I have been brought to tears by my year 8s, from both frustration and laughter. I have endured the nasty whispers between my year 12s, some sort of comment about my appearance on that particular day. I spent countless nights staring at my bedroom ceiling racked with worry over a students performance, only to call their parents and discover that education is the least of their families worries.

Nevertheless, my love persists.

I have confiscate numerous things, from bullets to marijuana. I have been gifted with many things, from small homemade decor items to pictures of scenes drawn during classroom-down time. I have become an expert at joke-telling, and can deflect a sassy students’ comments quicker then the speed of light. I know everything there is to know about Fortnite, yet I have never played a single game.

Love is patient. Love is kind.

Every day I go to work and I get to talk to small, growing, learning humans. They might not always learn the maths I am supposed to teach, but every time they speak it me it is an opportunity for me to teach patience, kindness and love. Sometimes I get mad. Sometimes I respond rashly. Sometimes I am overly harsh. But I always recognise when and I always apologise.

Teaching is hard. Teaching is love.