Perennial

“It’s over! I’m finally free!” Ms. Connor sighed as she sank into her desk chair.

This year’s class of kids had been a handful. All the disrespect, the disinterest, and the drama. Sixth grade school girls could be so mean to each other. And to adults...

Ms. Connor had taught tough groups before. She expected challenges with her students both behaviorally and academically. A typical scenario for an urban melting pot in a monstrous machine of a school district. But this group had been different. They didn’t have more fights or worse test scores than previous years, but as a group they were just so immature and unmotivated. Difficult and under-performing, she could work with that. Entitled and apathetic was a much harder combination.

The number of times she had heard, “My mom doesn’t care what you lying teachers say” from a kid who had earned a phone call home for bad behavior or “Why am I failing?” from a kid who hadn’t turned in an assignment all term.

She glanced over at the plants on her window sill. Some students had pulled off most of the leaves from her succulent plants when she was absent one day. Poor substitute teacher was probably traumatized.

After eight years, Ms. Connor was wondering if it was time for a change. If her elementary teacher acquaintance was correct it was all downhill from here. And considering the incompetency of certain administrators, prospects for next year were not promising. The job was hard enough without someone making it even harder.

But summer was here and it was time to get out of this classroom and into a good book. She gathered her things and checked her pockets to make sure she had her keys to turn in. She felt the stiffness and crumpling sound of a piece of paper. It was a note an eighth grader had pressed into her hand after giving her a huge hug on the way out to the buses.

Dear Ms. Connor,

Thank you for being an amazing teacher. You were one of the best parts of my time in middle school. I will miss you so much when I’m in high school next year!

Anna

Ms. Connor’s vision blurred a bit from the tears pooling in her eyes. It was a simple note, but beautiful. Seeing the words written by a sweet student who had struggled a lot and managed to grow so much was like having helium replace her heaviness.

She set down her computer bag then went to the sink and filled the watering can she kept on the counter. While giving each ragged looking plant a healthy dousing, she noticed the most pathetic looking aloe plant had a new bright green leaf beginning to peek out of the brown tattered ones.

Aloe, a great remedy for burns. Hope, a great remedy for burnout. Maybe she’d write a poem about it.

Author's Note: This was written for Hannah Moore's Hopeful Stories Challenge. It is an account of actual events I've experienced in a fictionalized frame.

And here are some other teacher related pieces of mine if you care to explore more!