The little girl I should have taught: Slice of Life #13

The little girl I should have taught: Slice of Life #13

You would have been in my class. We both knew it.

I left before you arrived. I missed out. I know.

I remember you in Kindergarten, those big brown eyes of yours. The way they took in everything and missed nothing.

I remember when you came to my class as a little buddy. Your partner sat back and smiled when you took over. You read like a reader does. Part words. Part expression. Part interaction. All proud.

You would look up from the page with those big brown eyes and we would all be right there with you.

I admired your tenacity. Your striped socks. Your big presence in such a little body.

We were waiting for each other. I know.

You made me cards.

I posted them up.

You visited me.

Every morning.

I put aside special books.

You smiled big before sitting down to read them.

I stopped and listened to all of your stories.

You had a lot.

“I am going to be in your class,” you told me all last year. You would have been. I know.

I was waiting for you.

Before I had to go.

Before I missed out on teaching you.

Bad Irony: Slice of Life

I am participating in the Slice of Life challenge to write and publish a post every day in March.

Slice of Life is hosted by Two Writing Teachers. I thank them for the community they provide. Read more slices here.

 

36 thoughts on “The little girl I should have taught: Slice of Life #13

  1. I’d love to say don’t feel bad, but that little girl missed out on a great teacher and learning experience. I’m sure the older students are happy you’re not teaching her, but that little brown eyed girl missed out.

  2. Beautiful! You were her teacher. Her favorite teacher. She didn’t have to be on a list of 20 students in your class for you to teach her. You were what she needed.

  3. “I put aside special books.
    You smiled big before sitting down to read them.
    I stopped and listened to all of your stories.”
    Lovely post. You will always be a part of this girl’s school memories because you were there for her “every morning.”

  4. Sitting in the coffee shop with tears in my eyes. The beauty and sadness of this piece. This was the hardest thing for me about leaving high school teaching. Leaving the kids who had been looking forward to being in a room full of love and books.

  5. As teachers we all form attachments to a few special students like the little girl you describe in your post today. We know how special they are, and they know that we feel that way. I think that’s one of the hardest parts of teaching; switching grades, taking a different assignment, leaving to have a baby, retirement….and remembering those we left behind.

  6. This happened to me as I moved schools every five years I even had some parents get upset because they were waiting for me to teach the last of their children

  7. You give so much of yourself in your teaching – it is so incredible. She did miss out – agree you are with her and she will always have you, but she did miss out. You are that good. But someone else got you this year and that is no less important.
    Clare

  8. That absolutely touches my heart. She was obviously very lucky to have you in at least some capacity last year. It is so reaffirming about all that is good and right about teaching to read a post like this.

  9. Oh my. I can’t take this. Pulling on every heartstring. I’m not even sure how to respond, to comfort. to tell you it’s going to be ok. It sounds like this little girl is struggling. A teacher’s heart is so big. I hope she holds dear those books you shared. I hope she knows you still care and are thinking about her. I hope you can share another book with her to help her heal … and you too. There’s a book for that. 🙂 Thank you for sharing this personal, difficult slice. I’m so sorry.

  10. What happened between you and this little girl will supply her and fuel her. She will have use this experience to know the good times and the bad times. Your post was eloquently written and we can feel your sadness. You are that good.

  11. This is so heartbreaking and so lovely at the same time. I had some of the same experiences switching grade levels at the start of this year. Several kids (even some I didn’t expect) from the upcoming third grade class came to confront me about leaving them. So hard.

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