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Somehow I feel very proud of myself. Breathing a sigh of relief, I pause to reflect…

I survived – my students survived – Day 2 of the 2012-2013 school year. While that feels like an incredible accomplishment right now, I know we are just on the brink of the next ten months of lectures, practice, homework, grading, and “sustained silent reading” sessions.

Tonight, though, I savor the word “teaching,” letting the role I find myself in fill my heart. I taste the responsibility and the joy wrapped up in my job. Teaching…it is a calling, it is a love, it is a passion.

I need to make a difference this year.

Somewhere in the hailstorm of graduate school and the emotional turmoil of the past several years, I have felt so helpless, as though I have contributed so little to the people around me. Answers are still not evident in many areas of my life, but I need to be needed. I think I’ve chosen the right profession.

Teachers don’t sleep without dreaming lesson plans. Teachers don’t talk without correcting their own and other’s grammar. Teachers don’t listen without considering the weight of their own advice. Teachers don’t punish without wishing they were instead extending mercy. Teachers don’t just go to work in the morning. Teachers wake up each and every day to carry the burdens of God’s children for the few short months that they are given that privilege.

And, it is a privilege.

Some days I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. But, for now, I’m looking forward to Day 3.

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