Many of my posts are about students and their struggles. I sometimes use this forum to process extraordinary efforts made by the talented people I have the privilege of working with. Sometimes, I use this medium to process mistakes I've made so that I can become better, recognizing I am deeply aware of the flaws I bring to the work I try to do each day.
But, this morning, I am not thinking about our students.
Instead, I am thinking about some of the adults I work with, my colleagues. I have different kinds of relationships with each of them so I suspect a few would even be surprised they are on my mind this morning. Yet, they are.
I'm thinking about the colleagues supporting their grown parents through Alzheimer's.
I'm thinking about the secondary teacher who battles her own physical illness each day only to spend most late afternoons and early evenings on her couch. Teaching is her passion but it's taking most of her energy.
I'm thinking about the new teacher full of self-doubt wondering if that one class will ever get better.
I'm thinking about the amazing teacher who has battled numerous medical obstacles and wants nothing more than to be back into the classroom -- her classroom.
I'm thinking about the colleague who's new to our district and isn't sure she has found her place among the staff. I sympathize with her more than she likely realizes.
And I am thinking about the colleague who tragically lost a family member some time ago. Every time I see her, I still see the pain in her eyes. I don't know what to say so I say nothing which is completely against what I feel. It's shameful on my part.
These are only a handful of stories among hundreds more. When we talk about knowing the stories of our students, perhaps we should be sure to know the stories of our colleagues -- of each other.
Maybe that is where real empathy can only begin. We can't give to others what we don't give to ourselves.
So many of you, of us, are hurting.
Just know that I am thinking of you and I see you...for whatever that is or could be worth.
But, this morning, I am not thinking about our students.
Instead, I am thinking about some of the adults I work with, my colleagues. I have different kinds of relationships with each of them so I suspect a few would even be surprised they are on my mind this morning. Yet, they are.
I'm thinking about the colleagues supporting their grown parents through Alzheimer's.
I'm thinking about the secondary teacher who battles her own physical illness each day only to spend most late afternoons and early evenings on her couch. Teaching is her passion but it's taking most of her energy.
I'm thinking about the new teacher full of self-doubt wondering if that one class will ever get better.
I'm thinking about the amazing teacher who has battled numerous medical obstacles and wants nothing more than to be back into the classroom -- her classroom.
I'm thinking about the colleague who's new to our district and isn't sure she has found her place among the staff. I sympathize with her more than she likely realizes.
And I am thinking about the colleague who tragically lost a family member some time ago. Every time I see her, I still see the pain in her eyes. I don't know what to say so I say nothing which is completely against what I feel. It's shameful on my part.
These are only a handful of stories among hundreds more. When we talk about knowing the stories of our students, perhaps we should be sure to know the stories of our colleagues -- of each other.
Maybe that is where real empathy can only begin. We can't give to others what we don't give to ourselves.
So many of you, of us, are hurting.
Just know that I am thinking of you and I see you...for whatever that is or could be worth.
Everybody Hurts - REM
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