Two nights ago when I walked into the end of the year dinner, the vice principal made a comment about me being such a fashion plate.
"What's that, J.Crew page 7?" He asked.
If only he knew I stopped being about to afford J.Crew years ago.
Later in the evening after we filled our bellies with steak (but before the waitress poured the strawberry sauce from the cheesecake all over my hair) the president of the board went around to each person in the room and said something about that person. It was a toast/roast depending on how well she knew the certain lady or gentleman. Most of the words were kind, misting the toast-ees eyes, speaking of their deep faith and commitment to the school and the children. I wondered what she would say about me. I didn't have any of her children or grandchildren (yes she has both in the school) in my class and so what could she know? The Wednesday sighting on lunch duty, the day she followed me around the school begging me to go eat the teacher's appreciation lunch (leftovers) outside in the windy parking lot, because I was secretly just trying to eat my yogurt in a quiet classroom.
I'd call it a roast, I suppose. As she started off by saying she couldn't believe the administration had hired a 13 year old to run a class of students. (You know, when I was 18 I minded that, now that I'm nearing the next decade I can appreciate the laugh). She went on to say something about how I can manage a classroom with the snap of a finger (I do run a tight ship) or something equally as impressive, and one or two other things before she got to the meat of it. When she switched gears and said above all, despite all those things, what she really admires about me are my accessories. The chiffon flowers and the peacock feather headpieces.
My accessories.
Luckily, for her case, I had chosen lovely coordinated earrings and bracelet for my teal dress. My bag matched, too.
So I got it. And you know what, I do put effort into it.
But maybe what she REALLY meant is that I accessorize the students with hope and patience. I accessorize their brains with a thirst for knowledge and their hearts with the love of self, others and God. I accessorize their dinner conversations with Drake stories or butchered sayings, about teaching men to fish and broken clocks being right twice a day.
I put effort into that, too. I know it doesn't go unnoticed. I am a type A perfectionist from my classroom to my jewelry. I am not done here because I haven't done my best here.
I know my teaching
and my outfits
aren't perfect.
Yet.
But you know I'll try. And when I get there, you know, to perfection, maybe I'll move on. Go somewhere else and start from scratch, climbing my way up the latter from newbie to veteran.
One well accessorized outfit at a time.
No comments:
Post a Comment