Appreciation
Recently, while flying to visit my son in Austin, TX, I found myself engaged in a conversation with the woman sitting in the seat beside me. Within minutes, we were discussing our careers as teachers — hers in an elementary school in California, and mine teaching older kids in Pennsylvania. (Teachers must have a look; we always find each other.) We talked about education, our backgrounds, our philosophies, the impact of Covid, technology, and social media on the mental health of our students, and, finally, where we are in our careers.
I explained that I retired last year after 36 years in education. She shared that she was going into her 40th school year and wasn’t sure why she was working another year. But she knew. After a few quiet moments, she said, “I love my students.”
She then asked me, “What do you do with your days?”
“Everything I ever wanted to do. Yoga, historical research, travel, volunteering, writing, walking, reading. I’m never bored,” I replied.
Then, she shared first a question and then a confession that hasn’t left me since. “Are you married? Do you have kids? I never married. Never wanted to commit to anything beyond my students. I’ve had a good life, but now I wonder if it was enough?”
And if her confession wasn’t enough to make you think, she then said she had been holding on to win Teacher of the Year in her school district. “I would just like someone in administration to finally recognize my dedication and skills,” she shared.
That was not the first time I have heard that sentiment. Maybe winning an award hasn’t always been the specific goal — but, the idea that administration would recognize you not in a cursory, beginning of the school year mass email or announcement that, ‘We couldn’t do this without you’ — but an individualized recognition of what makes how we do our work valuable and unique.
The personal choices we make and the reasons for them are just that — personal. But the desire to be appreciated and recognized for our uniqueness is a universal goal, one which could alter the trajectories of so many. We all want to know that we matter, that we are unique, that we are valuable, and that we’re not just seen as a body in the room. For a litany of reasons, there is an exodus of teachers right now. Yet, the teacher on the plane beside me is holding on to hope that this will be the year that she is finally recognized for her lifetime of dedication, long hours, and willingness to not see it as a sacrifice, but as a gift to her students.
Sending a wish for not just this woman, but for all that are soon walking into their classrooms: May you be recognized, appreciated, and treated like you matter.