The Rock

School ended June.. 11ish. As usual, I cried, laughed and was filled with gratitude for the children that had been entrusted to me this year. The other day I was getting ready to do laundry and I pulled a large rock out of my raincoat. It had the name "David" on it.

Suddenly I was flooded with memories of this sweet, happy go lucky little boy that I'd had in my class for two years. His mom was smart enough to know he was young going in to kindergarten and so an extra year would really get him ready for first grade. The best part was that I got to keep him. For two years. The little one who wouldn't look up or answer questions in whole group when he was five flourished in kindergarten when he was six.

The rock, was something David had given me on a cold, drizzly day while we were outside on the playground. Several weeks later he saw me take the rock he had given me out of my pocket and put it onto my desk. He looked at me. His little mask decorated with pizza slices, his bright green minecraft shirt, the sweat pants he was starting to grow out of and ruffled blonde hair. Then as he pointed to his brown sitting on my desk. Thhe rock that looked the same as ALL the brown rocks, "you still have that rock I gave you?" he inquired. I patted his little head and said, "Of COURSE I DO. I keep ALL the treasures you give me!" I couldn't see the smile on his mouth, but I could see it in his eyes. He was satisfied with my answer and could get on with his day.

Often times I find random items in my pockets: barretts, hair ties, tiny lego men, rocks, flowers, leaves, water bottle caps, homemade bracelets. After I take them out, I put them in my treasure box. I could tell you specifically which child gave them to me. A homemade necklace from Jefferson, a bracelet Melani made me at after school care, a barrett from Madison, and a lego guy Christopher and I both forgot about.

These aren't just items I often find left over like old Chapstick, tissues, or a lost whistle. These things,

the rock, the lego guy, the necklace, these are treasures. They remind me of the child who gave them to me and the relationship we had. They remind me of the love and energy felt by a teacher and a child who are truly listening and engaged with each other. Those moments in school and outside on the playground where a child says: "Thank you for listening and for talking with me. For believing in me and helping me reach my goals. For helping me learn how to be a better friend and classmate. But most of all, thank you for allowing me to feel loved and at home each day I walk through your door. " David may only be 6, but that treasure he gave me, that ridiculous brown rock, is a reminder each and every day of why teaching is not just a job but a calling to help these children make our world a better place.