His Mother hits too hard, Her father left for good.
Never knowing the love, that every child should.
Now my job is to give them, all the things they need from both them and me.
Harder each day, so many objectives, and not enough time.
So the strugglers keep struggling and keep falling behind.
Each day ended is another day spent asking if I did enough?
Enough
practice, enough fun, enough kindness, enough love.
You see, you think my job is just teaching.
But you don’t see the daily goals that these children keep reaching.
That wouldn’t happen without passion, that wouldn’t happen without more.
It wouldn’t happen without me pushing, encouraging, and engaging, right when they walk through the door.
To me, these kids aren’t just numbers, statistics, and scores on a test.
They are incredible. They are kind. They are simply the best.
So to you, I’m just a teacher, and that’s where it ends.
But to them, I’m a hand holder, a tear wiper, a goal inspirer, helping each child’s dreams begin.
I wouldn’t trade it for the world, the exhaustion, the overwork, and the underpay.
Because I’m exactly where I’m needed and I’m needed each day.
Anonymous poem
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