Dear First-Year Meaghan,
You're going to cry in your car at least twice this month. That's fine. You're also going to watch a student who told you he hates reading finish an entire novel and ask for another one. That's going to keep you going longer than you think.
I want to tell you something nobody said at orientation: the reason you teach is going to change. Right now, you teach because you love books and you believe every kid deserves someone who fights for their voice. That's beautiful, and it's true. But it's not enough to sustain you through the years of standardized testing, of budget cuts, of watching students carry burdens no child should have to carry.
The Reason Deepens
Here's what happens: you stop teaching because you love English, and you start teaching because you love them. The kid who writes poetry in the margins of her math homework. The kid who can't sit still but tells the most incredible stories when you just let him talk. The kid who doesn't say a word for three weeks and then writes an essay that makes you hold your breath.
You'll learn that teaching isn't really about content. It's about relationship. It's about being the adult in the room who says, "I see you, and what you think matters." Standards and curriculum and lesson plans are the vehicle. But the destination is always the student.
The Hard Truth
You're going to lose some. Students who move away, who fall through cracks you couldn't fill, who come back to visit years later and break your heart with how much they've grown. Teaching is a long game, and you won't always see the results. But trust me — the seeds you're planting right now are real.
So Why Do I Still Teach?
Because every September, a new group of humans walks through my door, and every single one of them has a story worth telling. My job is to help them find the words. That's it. That's the whole thing.
It's enough. It's more than enough.
With love and a slightly better classroom management plan,
Future You