letters and lattes

I started this morning on a high. I had finished my last official day at school, the glorious joys of being part-time. The year is not quite finished, with official celebrations remaining. Ahead of me was a day of my own crafting, children at school and work obligations complete. I was filled with the joy of gifts from colleagues, thoughtful handwritten cards and more sweets than I could possibly eat alone (my husband is particularly thankful for these). 

Foolishly I checked my email and my high plummeted in glorious descent. I had somehow made an error on a report and a student emailed me frenzied, quite rightly. I quickly became frenzied too and followed up, hoping for a swift resolution. I closed my laptop and retreated to another quiet corner of my home, seeking distraction and comfort. 

I likely looked very content with my coffee and a book, if there were anyone home to see me. Internally, I was spiraling. Naturally, I disasterized this oversight. How could this have happened? But I double-checked, triple-checked, did it not save? I tried to rationalize, thinking through all of my actions, wondering when the error occurred. Then, I tried to make excuses, it’s been a busy week. There has been so little time. Anyone could make these mistakes. Then, I tried to forgive myself and let it go. It’ll be fine. You’ve done what you need to do, you’re only human, it will be ok. None of the thoughts stuck, they just swirled and swirled, grabbing me and taking me with them up and through the vortex of the hurricane. 

I finished my chapter and decided to check my email again, to face up to the horror of my mistakes, the reckoning of this great tragedy. A very polite and kind email awaited me, telling me the problem was resolved.

I exhaled. 

I went back to my book. 

I did something strange. 

I cried. 

Relief. 

And this is what the end of the school year looks like, dear reader. There are highs and lows, our emotions are barely contained and one simple mistake sends us barreling over the edge. Ok, that might just be me. There is a sense of the work never truly being done, even here in the quiet days my mind is still ticking over unit plans to be tidied up, updated, resources that need tweaking, physical spaces which need cleaning (or clearing out). There is only this: more, more, more. 

A few weeks ago I began preparing my gift for my colleagues. In my experience, the tradition is to share a gift for the colleagues in your office and perhaps wider, based on relationship, connection, etc. I usually write a card and offer baked goods (usually gingerbread, this year however I made hazelnut and orange shortbread stars and they are GOOD!!). I wanted to do more. My colleagues were as exhausted as I had been at the end of the year (see my last post on Advent), many more so or juggling greater complexity. I wanted to express, somehow, that they were seen and known in this. Inspired by the work of Kate Bowler¹ I decided to write a blessing for my colleagues, my friends; a blessing for teachers. I shared it with them yesterday and tried my best to accept their appreciation. Externally, I fumfered. Internally, I glowed. 

So, here it is, my blessing for teachers. Fellow educators, may you read it and be encouraged in all that you do. 

Blessed are the Teachers.

Blessed are the teachers
And the ESOs, SSOs, the admin staff
Who magically keep the school spinning
Like a top – round and round and round.
Blessed are they
Who give and give and give
Who have trudged
And crawled
And collapsed
As they made it to the finish line
Of another year.

Blessed are the teachers
Who run on coffee grounds
And leftover fumes from copious cups of tea
And crumbs they found on the counter.

Who manage to stretch and bend time
To fit in marking
And activities
And jam-packed-amazing curriculum
And another message home
Who have worn themselves as thin
As the paper
That’s jammed in the printer. Again.

Blessed are the teachers
Who are suddenly, surprisingly, sad
At farewelling their class,
Who, in hindsight, are rather lovely.
Whom they have to come to love deeply
And will miss.
Whose progress they have championed,
Beaming with pride,
At just how far they have come.

Blessed are the teachers
Who mourn those they have
Farewelled forever.
Who bear the shame
Of the ones they were unable to
Get across the line.
Who fear
For what some go home to.

Blessed are all those behind the scenes
Keeping our children safe and loved
Who hold each other up
In light and easy
In hard and heavy
Blessed are the colleagues
As they hold space for each other
May they not shrink from showing gratitude
May they not grow hard
At each fresh offering of vulnerability
May they know how blessed they are.

Blessed are the teachers
Who give and give and give
Who bleed gold
And run on smiles.

May the simple joys
Be enough.
May they have peace
With what they could
And could not do.
May they be blessed
By small miracles
In sowing seeds
Again and again
For fruit
they may never see.

May they be brave enough
To do it all again –
Next year.

I have also included the image I printed for my colleagues, I am hoping it allows you to save/download it if you would like. Perhaps for yourself. Perhaps as a gift for a colleague, your friend who works in a school, the teacher of your children. Or maybe at the very least, dear reader, you will come away knowing how deeply those in education care and how tirelessly we work for the children entrusted to us. 

Go well

Steph

¹ Yes, I’m referencing her again. Will I ever stop? I don’t know. Have you bought her book yet?

Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie, The Lives We Actually Have: 100 Blessings for Imperfect Days (New York: Convergent Books, 2023)