and then there were 21

Some say that in order to be a good teacher you must love all of your students. Others argue that love gets in the way. They say that what you really need is deep respect and a driving passion. I believe you need both. You need to love them to get out of bed at 5am. You need to respect them to patiently ask them FOR THE FOUR HUNDREDTH TIME to zip their lips in the hallway.

What separates teaching from everything but parenting is that you must love them deeply enough that you only want things for them, and nothing from them.

Today a social worker asked me if my baby, my boy who shares my birthday, my special helper, my sunshine every morning, my Aaron, had any personal belongings in my room. I paused as I processed. I lied and said yes. Then, I took him upstairs and told him to take any book that he wanted from my library. He chose Clifford's Tricks. Even though he can't read, it made sense. I smiled. I wrote him a note in it, with love. I told him in a whisper that he was the most special boy I had ever met, because I know that no one has ever said that to him before. Because I know that most teachers will label him a behavior problem and forget to drive him toward success. Because I knew why he was leaving. I told him that he was smart and strong. And his eyes began to water.

I never called his aunt to tell her when he misbehaved because I knew the situation was precarious, and now I wish that I had called her more to tell her what a special boy she had the opportunity of caring for.

Why are adults so insensitive to the most sensitive beings on earth?