Three weeks ago I was released as a Primary teacher. For the last year and a half, I've taught the class that's 8 turning 9. Twenty-three kids between the two classes.
I love those kids. They're energetic, curious, and want to learn. They respond to who loves them and I definitely love them.
This afternoon I was completely spent. I'd had a long, busy day and as I sat down to put my feet up for a few minutes, I wandered in and out of consciousness--mostly unconscious.
I needed to get busy. I had dinner to fix, guitar lessons to take kids to and cleaning to do. To revive me, I walked out in the cool air to get the mail. When I opened the door, one of my primary boys was running toward me as fast as he could, carrying the Scouting for Food bag. He grinned, handed me the bag and we talked for a minute as I walked to the mailbox.
Around the corner came two more boys followed by their scout leaders (two ladies pushing their babies in their strollers).
"I get to do Sister White's," one said.
"No, I do," said another. Both boys stopped in their tracks when they saw me at the mailbox, holding up my bag.
"Oh, I wanted to do yours," one of them said.
"I already did it," said the first boy proudly.
"They've been fighting over who got to deliver yours ever since we started," one of the women said.
My heart melted a little. They don't know yet that I'm not very cool. They don't care that I'm old or that I own sweater sets. They don't even notice (or at least they don't mention) that I wear flat, "comfortable" shoes.
They just like me. And that's exactly what I needed today.