Teaching

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a teacher. I tried to find a career that made money, ie. political science, but it was not a calling. Teaching is a calling. I am called each day to be in a building with children that are needy, whiney and hungry. I am called to be in a building that has holes in the walls, floods in the bathrooms and hallways,gas leaks, electrical problems ,too many stains to count, a classroom that is now the gym and a lack of insulation on cold days.
I am called to these halls with the voices of children being told to walk, where is your hall pass, and what do you mean you can't remember where to take the attendance slip.
Today I felt as if I would explode if one more of these children did not listen to me when I said, Sit in your chair and do not move your desk off this square. I wanted to explode, when the sixth graders did not listen to me as I asked them to get a hall pass. I thought I would explode, when the child that I had just given directions to on how to do the paper, asked, What do I put here again?. Some days, I am sure that this calling is a wrong number.
Then just as I want to hang up and tell the operator to find the correct party. I am told by the same sixth grader in line to get on the bus, that she wishes she could stay at school all day and night. I forget that even when I am at my wits end and the straw is about to break the camels back, I am the most stable element in these children's lives. I am making a difference each day if it is only to wipe a runny nose, tie another shoe or to make sure that the directions are given yet again.
My babies have so little, they eat all their lunch and breakfast and are still hungry. They do not complain that they wear their clothes two weeks before they get laundered. They are not upset if they have to share. They do not make fun of each other, they do not ask for more, they only ask that I am there everyday. They adapt to every situation as if change is all they know.
I wish I had some of these traits.
I hate to eat some food and would not hesitate to complain if my clothes were not clean. I do the wash but still. I hate to share. I have a teacher aide and find sharing with her hard.
I am spoiled. I am selfish.
This wrong number may not be a wrong number after all. I think I need to realize that I am these kids, 911 and if I can remember that, I am on the right road.