To the child who brought an (unloaded) bb gun to school today:

When the assistant principal came and picked you up from my room today, I assumed you'd been fighting on the playground.  When she called my room phone and told me you'd brought something unsafe to school today, I assumed it was a pocket knife or lighter.  But when she told me that it was a gun, my jaw dropped.  Unloaded, no ammo, and without an intent or plan to harm.  [Thank goodness, or I would be shaking my head as you cleaned out your desk, expelled, and off to who knows where to do god knows what...]  But a gun was in MY classroom today.  Yes, I know it was just a bb gun.  I know you and your friends might play with these, that they're viewed as toys by some, but they are STILL weapons, guns, dangerous.  And if you brought a bb gun today, who's to say what will be next, for you or someone else?

I'm not quite sure what to make of this.  When the assistant principal and I talked this evening, she told me that you did not want to hurt anyone.  I didn't think you would.  But as she continued talking, and told me that you got it from someone in the community, that you were worried about other people in the community, kids and adults, and that you felt like you needed it...I didn't exactly feel any better.  I have no idea what you were thinking, and part of me wants to tell you what a stupid thing you did and yell at you that you are the LUCKIEST KID IN THE WORLD that you are not in more trouble...but then I stop, think, and sigh...  

You are too good for this kind of thing.  You have a good heart and a good head and it breaks MY heart to think that there are things in your life that make you think, at age 10, you should have a gun on hand.  And I fear for your future--who will you be in 5 years, 10 years, 15 years?  Where will you be, and with whom?  Please tell me what I can do to help you, because I just don't know.  I am here for you.  I am here for you from 8:35am-3:00pm, but sadly, when you walk out of my room and I say good-bye with a high-five and a smile, where are you going?  And how can I be there with you, in your head, even then?  I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. 

And so, tonight I add you to the list of children about whom I will stay awake worrying...

Sincerely,

Miss Teacher

Dear Miss Teacher,

This post-it was waiting for me on my desk yesterday morning when I came back from being sick:

Best part of my week. :)

To the child who decided it was okay to skip school:

What were you thinking??? No, seriously, what the heck were you thinking? Did you think that school was optional? That no one would notice if you just decided not to show up? Did you think that you were too sneaky to have to go to school, or that you were smarter than everyone else because you figured out how to trick your mom and ditch school?

Did you realize that skipping school at your age is illegal? Did you consider how your mom would feel when, after two days of unexcused absences for both you and your brother, she was called at work? Did you know how panicked she would be, know she would picture you dead in an alley or in the back of a kidnapper's car, or worse? Did you think about the trouble you would be in? Did you even think at all?

Or what about this: did you take a moment to even consider how, when you are already reading and writing four grades behind, missing two days of learning would set you back even further? Did you realize that if you even want a SHOT at college, you need to learn to read first? Did it occur to you that YOU need to TRY to learn, that I cannot force you?

It baffles me to think that the child who sits, staring into space in my classroom each day, who cannot even figure out that, when he doesn't know what to do, he should raise his hand to ask, could mastermind a plan to pretend to walk to school two days in a row only to run back home once mom was at work. What. Were. You. Thinking.

Wake up. Get your act together. Now. Because I fear for you if, when you turn 16, you still can't read and think school is "boring." What will happen to you?

I hope you will take a moment to think about the consequences of your actions, and for the love of god, get to school. Period.

Sincerely,
Miss Teacher

Dear Crazy Parent

Dear Crazy Parent,

Please chill out. There's no need to call about 1/2 points taken off of your child's assignments. There is no need to criticize the little things and question everything I do. Please don't tell your child how much better he is than everyone else. Also, there is really no call to let me know that, in not so many words, you are better than me. I am a college grad, with honors no less. I am a good teacher, and I would do anything for my students. There is no need to doubt my every move. I get it--you care about your son. Here's the thing--i care about him too. I care about all of my students. They are the reason I stay at school after hours, do research for lessons on the weekends, and constantly look for ways to better myself as an educator. I'm not sure why you feel the need to sit watching and waiting for me to make a mistake. Which I will, by the way, because I am human. I can only imagine what your reaction will be...

But honestly, chill out. If not for your sake, then for your child's sake. I worry about him and his future, because I see the way you manipulate him, plant ideas in his head. So crazy parent, I hope you will learn to let go, and let me teach. And even though I do not love you, I will continue loving your son because I am a better teacher than you think I am, and because I care about all of my students.

Sincerely,
Miss Teacher

To my student who asks me for a hug everyday:

Most every afternoon, you come up to me and say, "Miss Teacher, can I have a hug?"  And I of course smile and say, "Absolutely you can" and squeeze you into a tight hug.  You always smile back and say, "Thanks." I know you appreciate those special hug moments and I am grateful that I am so easily able to give you what you need.  Just a hug.  Your home life is not great.  I know you are lacking so many of the things you need, and I know that adults in your life have let you down.  Many, many times.  Yet you come to me, and when you could be asking so much, all you want is a hug.

What you do not know is that those hugs mean as much to me as they do to you.  What you do not know is that on some days, I need them as much as you do.  Your hugs are not the quick, "How's it going" kind, but those tight squeeze ones that you can tell the hugger never wants to let go.  The hugs that make you think, "Wow, that was a good hug."  When I am exhausted, or stressed, or losing my patience, they remind me for that split second why I teach.  They remind me why I am here, and why I will come back again tomorrow.  Your hugs say with so much more intensity than words, "Miss Teacher, you are my teacher.  I need you.  I need so much, but right now, I just need you to be here for me and take this moment to remind me that you care."  They bring me away from the hectic classroom for just a moment and bring me to that place inside me that whispers, "This is your life's work.  Don't give up."

So, my student, my answer tomorrow will be, "Yes, of course you can have a hug."  Thank you so much for asking.