These students, who are so needy at the beginning of the year: crying for attention, begging to be heard, clamoring to get personal time, change by the end of that year. They are stronger, smarter, hungrier for knowledge, and so sure of themselves. They believe that they are invincible, and hopefully, they are. Hopefully, these students are just strong enough to go make mistakes and learn from them.
This teacher, who has poured herself into these students, has to let them go. She has to trust that she has done her job well, prepared them as best she could, and fight to loosen those bonds that she worked so hard to form in the past year. These children, who were strangers, the unknown quantity, received her love, attention, time, and wisdom.
I am in a position where I am desperately needed. I fill a job that is tough. I spend four days a week with students who are at nearly their last stop in the educational system. Many of them have bounced from one school to the next. Maybe they were home-schooled, maybe they got kicked out of three public schools in the past four years, maybe they just don't fit anyplace else. Now, they are mine. They have adapted to a "tough" teacher with high expectations. They know that I'm not messing around with their futures. They cry out for my attention, they vie for my time, and I can't get to all of them or meet all of their needs. Somehow, I have to get to them, and help them find what they need.
I spend a lot of my time working to meet other people's needs. I have a daughter with a broken arm. She needs me. I raised her to be independent, to take care of herself, and now I help her button her pants and tie her shoes. She needs me. I'm okay with it, because I need her too.
I have a boyfriend who taught me that my life isn't just about teaching and my daughter. He showed me that it's healthy to trust and to love. He and I needed each other last year. He needed patience, understanding, and love. I needed that from him too. We supported each other, loved each other, and got each other through one of the toughest years of our lives. Now, he needs more. He needs more than I can give him and I have a hard time with that. I'm used to meeting needs and now I can't.
He's branching out, making friends, and having the social life he was meant to have. He was never meant to live on a mountain, hidden away from the world, isolated from the human interaction on which he thrives. He loves to have a million acquaintances and I'm happy with a small circle of close friends. We broke up during the worst month of my life. Everything crashed down on me, and I didn't deal with it well.
We decided to get back together and I have been working extra hard to meet his needs, but I can't. . . and I hate it. He's been working too, trying to balance his new life, school requirements, job duties, and his love for me. He's under tremendous pressure and I'm not helping. I'm not good at loosening up.
It occurs to me that I haven't really addressed my needs in this post. Here they are: I need to know that I'm doing my very best, every minute of every day. I need to hear that I am loved. I need to understand that just because I am not the focus of attention, it doesn't mean that I'm not important. I need to be involved in the lives of the people I love. I need to see patience in the eyes of those who I admire. I need to still feel needed. Above that, I need to feel wanted.
My students get a lot from me and it takes its toll on the people I love. My students walk away at the end of the year, not needing me anymore, but usually wanting me to still be a part of their lives. My personal relationships have no such time limit. The people I love pay far too much for the career I have chosen. I want to make that better. The people I love want me to make it better. I will.
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