My cat sits. Gazing out the window into the dark. Filled with the purpose of his being. His job is clear. Sleep. Notice. Prowl. Sleep some more. Purr. Allow humans to adore him.
And here I sit. Gazing at the papers I need to look over. Thinking about the various child-centered and adult-oriented snafus of the day and wonder about my purpose that started out so clear at the beginning of the week. Adjusted for the day, readjusted by the hour. .Sitting here, I wonder, how true am I staying to my purpose. What is it that gets me up in the morning and requires me to bring it every day?
I have been given 31 kiddos for 180 days of their 9-year-old life. In those 180 days. I want for them to grow a year as a reader, a writer, a scientist, a mathematician. But more importantly, I want them to know this is just one step along a long path. Not only toward their growth as a thinker but as a human. I want them to walk out with a little more aptitude in seeing one another. To grow as humans. That more than anything matters.
Thinking about the clear and simple need for a huge and constant doses of humanity, I can’t help but be thankful for the children’s literature we consume and discuss daily.
And with that, I’m sending out deep appreciation for the writers who fill our room with their beautiful words. To Kate DiCamillo and Katherine Applegate. You are our most recent mentors. We are grateful for the centering force you give our classroom.
Tomorrow is another day of unpredictable moments in a nine-year old life. All except that tomorrow we will read your words.