I recently turned a year older which is better than the alternative. My First Love of a class always surprises me with a gift for my birthday which I don’t deserve. These poor souls got the very worst of me as I was green and quite stupid but oh so excited about teaching sixth grade.
I remember standing in front of them the first day of school thinking that I was going to faint or puke before the school day would end! I remember the love they shared with me right away so that I was their teacher from the first day of school. I remember the day I was reviewing third person singular pronouns when I very accidentally and very clearly ran two of the pronouns together to make one profane word and all the class heard me. I remember our Camp Laurence Day when the rain came uninvited and made our fun day even better. I remember our trip to the Harvest House and our trip to the Tyler Zoo. I remember the day that I had to deliver some very sad and very grown-up news to my First Love. I remember sharing our small room with two other teachers and a piano! I remember laughing until tears streamed down my face because of an utterly ridiculous story told to the class by one red-head. I remember our trip to SFA to watch “Huck Finn.” I remember smiling a lot and worrying even more about ruining every last one of them. I remember our End of School Party where I stood before my more mature sixth graders and cried because I hated to see them leave me.
My First sixth grade class always remembers my birthday and they treat me with such tenderness and love that I can truly say that they are payment enough.