Teaching Has Saved Me

On more than one occasion teaching has saved my life.  In those moments when I found it hard to breath, to get out of bed and face life, I have walked into my classroom and forgotten the outside world.  When my heart has been smashed into small pieces, or those that I loved have disappeared from my life... When I have been beyond disappointed in myself, or couldn't stand my own thoughts... Teaching has saved me. 

This was not that different just a few weeks ago.  I was in a place where I couldn't understand life, and was hurt, angry, and frustrated with fate for taking a friend, and piece of my future, from my life.  I was overwhelmed with concern for my future husband, as he had suddenly lost a best friend whom was more like a brother.

I spent more than one day looking through my students, unable to really listen to their words, and understand the conversations.  I was going through the motions of teaching - something I don't believe in, and yet we've all experienced.  I vividly remember a friend saying, "How were your kids today?" and I was befuddled.  I didn't have an answer, except to say honestly, "I don't know.  I mean I guess they were fine, but I don't really know what happened today."  What I love about teaching sixth graders is the honesty we can have with one another.  My students knew that a dear friend had passed, and were sensitive to the time and space I needed.  Telling them the truth, and requesting from them some patience and understanding (as well as good behavior and hard work) really allowed me to take care of what I needed to in my personal life.  I wasn't able to see their concern for me in those moments, but it came through in the days that passed. 

They asked if they could help me pick out the substitute that would be teaching in the days that followed (partly because they do not like having substitutes, and partly because they knew they would behave and have fun if it was someone they like).  When I returned from two and a half days out ( 1.5 for services, .5 for a meeting), one student asked if I was his teacher again.  When I smiled and nodded, he wrapped his arms around me (in a hallway of about 65 sixth graders) and told me he was so glad I was back.  It is in those moments that teaching saves me from my own thinking.  It is in those moments that I can breathe again. 

We dismissed early that day, and the next day was a potential snow day that led to an extended vacation.  It was hard for me to wrap my head around saying goodbye to them for the vacation after so few hours together, and still deal with the world outside the school building.  As I took a deep breath, and walked toward my desk, I noticed an envelope on my desk with a note on the outside:

Dear Miss Sisto, 

Your students were very worried about you, and wanted to write you some notes.  So sorry to hear of your friend.   Try to enjoy your vacation.

Nancy

Nancy is our building support teacher, so she is familiar and loves all of the staff and students at our school.  I smiled with tears in my eyes knowing this had come from not only her, but my co-teacher whom had been checking in on me all week.  This was exactly what I needed.  I packed it in my bag, eager to get home from the never-ending snow falling outside the windows.  I needed to be in my own home, and in my own space, before I read any of these letters.  

I don't have to explain how or why teaching saved me in this moment, because there are simply no words.  It's all in the letters. Take a look below and you'll understand.  I write this with one disclaimer: Walk away from reading this article with the understanding that these letters aren't about ME.  These are letters each educator that listens and loves their students receives.