I had no idea what I was getting myself into. A summer job with kids, I thought. Same as babysitting, just with a whole lot more kids. Yeah, not quite.
I work as a camp counselor at a camp that hosts many of the same kids from week to week. I work with another counselor to look after a group of roughly 25 children, taking them around to play on the playground and in the gym, and to make the occasional craft. We play hot potato, Simon Says, and more rounds of Uno than I could ever count.
And let me tell you, wrangling 25 children to do all of the activities is NOT the same as wrangling the 3 kids you babysit. Not even close.
Throughout the summer I cannot help but think back to my own teachers and all the times they asked us to stop talking or to get in a line or to listen up or to follow directions. All the times they were the 'bad guys' for taking away extra recess or reminding us to put on our jackets. All the times they made up games and stories and riddles to keep us entertained. All the hours they put into planning a day they hoped we would find fun.
They did it all to keep us safe, all because they care.
And how did we thank them?
With less than perfect lines, complaints, frustration, annoyance, and the belief that we probably knew better (even if we never verbalized it.)
Even though I would consider myself a rule-follower and someone who was very appreciative of her teachers, it has taken the leadership of 25-six-year-olds to make me realize just how much my teachers have done for me.
How did they do it?
There are days when impatience rears its ugly head and all I can think of are all the teachers I have had in my life who gave every child a chance, who made me feel like an individual in a loud classroom, and I am truly in awe of them. It takes a special kind of person to display the unwavering equilibrium of a teacher.
I used to want to be a teacher when I was little because I liked playing with kids and dreamed of creating extraordinary bulletin boards in carefully thought-out center stations. Little did I know that is merely the surface level of it all.
It is exhausting yet rewarding to watch children grow and learn. We were all children once, and we all had teachers, whether in formal schooling or at home. Somebody taught us how to become the people that we are right now. We were shaped by someone (or in most of our cases, many someones) who tried over and over again to make us smile and help us as much as they could. Along with 20-some other children.
That's the definition of a real superhero if I've ever heard of one.
So, to all the teachers: sorry for all those times we didn't listen because it wasn't on our personal agendas.
And thanks for always keeping us on your agenda, anyway.
Thank you, teachers, for all that you do, for the grace you exude whilst doing it, and for all the smiles you give so unconditionally.
It really does make a difference.
