It is like God is testing my resolve to blog about the brighter side of teaching by supplying me with an abundance of blog-worthy situations (ie legitimate complaints burning to get out of my mouth) (ie tear inducing, stress inducing incidents). Anyway, I haven't been so positive.
I was getting myself worked up on the way to work yesterday (ie feeling sorry for myself) (ie brainstorming better careers) (ie pondering injustice) (ie feeling bad about the fact that I can't control the way things are) (ie trying not to cry and ruin my makeup). Anyway, it was about 6am and I walked into good old room 24. My intervention table in the back was empty save one cheap, pink and silver, dangling earring.
On Thursday, one of the "lost boys" as I call them came up to me and presented me with the worthy gift. It was the end of the day, and I was attempting to get the kids to pack up quietly (it sounds a lot easier than it is). He walks up to me, proudly holding his closed fist in front of him. He gives a huge grin and opens his hand to reveal the earring. Now, this same student has brought an interesting list of things to school including hot sauce (the entire bottle), a spoon, an old cell phone, and a candle. "Is that your mom's," I asked him, "She'll probably be wanting it back."
"No, I found it," he explained, "It's pretty. I want you to have it."
"Thank you," I said smiling. I laid it on the back table and forgot about it.
The next day, as I was pondering how I don't get any respect or sleep or a reasonable pay check, I saw the silver and pink, dangling earring on that table alone. I can't explain how, but I realized that I do get something. There is something about the pink, probably stolen, earring that is the "why" I stay in this profession when all of the bad stuff seems overwhelming.
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