Teaching (Or Seeing My Boys Grow Up)

Being a teacher is a strange thing. You see the same kids week-in and week-out for most of the year. You know there are far too many for you to remember their names. In the case of Korea, I feel like it is hard to build a relationship between myself and my students (language being an obvious barrier). And then, their graduation arrives. Those boys you have seen grow into young men are finally leaving to go make a mark in the world. And you feel sad.

You’ll miss the way they cheered during Second Grade when you had their class. You’ll miss how damn cheeky some of them can be. You’ll miss the quiet ones, who will surprise you by answering a question in near perfect English. You’ll miss out on seeing them grow up and change the world.

But you will also feel pride. A great pride in the improvements they have made, no matter how small it may seem to them. A pride in seeing them change from loud children into responsible young men. Today was the Third Grade graduation at my school. And though I didn’t know all their names; can’t remember all of their faces and probably will never see them again I can say with certainty that I am proud of every single one of them. That I will miss them.

Yes. Being a teacher is a strange thing. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.


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