Teach Me

Two true statements: I love preschool teachers and I could never do that job... never, never, never. I've worked with kids, I've done an internship in a school, I generally love little people but being a preschool teacher? No, not ever. I swear, these people earn their wings on a daily basis for taking care of kids, but maybe they're even better at taking care of parents. Molly and Jack's teachers are very different but very good for my small people's very different personalities. Jack's teacher is warm and goofy and lovely and rolls with the punches really well. She engages my very busy, constantly-in-motion son in a way that I can't and she is sympathetic and kind about the trying moments of this busy stage (have I mentioned that he's busy?). Molly's teachers are unflappable and laid back and deal with my emotionally intense little lady and her knickers-in-a-twist mom with ease and calm and not a lot of hoopla. They're good stuff, these teachers, and I appreciate them with all my heart and patience-taxed head. In the end, our kids aren't going to remember these folks who helped give them a good foundation but we are. We are going to remember the dose of laughter, the dose of sympathy, the dose of "eh, it's no biggie" that they offer along with the glowing (ha!) reports of what our wundkinds accomplished at the art table that morning. They're all part of this old village of ours, these halo-earners, and I really am thankful to have them and all the other spokes in our wheel in our lives.


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