Remember Me?

As I was leaving school today I ran into one of the students in our Intellectual Disabilities program and his sister. I stopped to talk to him and barely even acknolwedged his sister. Suddenly she interupted me.

"I know you don't remember me," she began, "But you were my first grade teacher. You were my best teacher. Ms. L"

I just about fell over. The minute I looked at her face I remembered her. Of course I did. She was smaller, more timid, a quiet six year old, very different than this confident teenager standing in front of me holding car keys- but yes, I remembered her.

It's been ten years. It meant so much to see her all grown up. It was my very first class and I left the school I taught at to go to the think tank. Until today I'd never seen any of those kids again.

It was a surreal experience to realize that I was driving out of the parking lot with a little girl I'd taught to read. How is she old enough to drive? How am I old enough to have taught someone for so long?

It was one of those moments as a teacher that you are blown away by the general nature of change in the world.

Art work completed by my first class of first graders, ten years ago. The beauty in first grade is watching them bloom

In the midst of a tough day it was beautiful reminder of why this job is the best.