One of my students called me Mom last week. That was the first time this year, but certainly not the first time over all. I have several students who continue to call me mom, even years later. I imagine that happens to everyone. Sometimes, it’s an accident, a slip of the tongue. Other times it feels like so much more, like the weight of the world in one small word.
I’m not a mother to biological or adopted children. In general, I’m a cats-not-kids kind of woman. However, there’s something magical about being acknowledged as the woman who takes care of / makes a difference in a student’s life. It warms my heart.
I spent last week with one class giving them a practice test to figure out what they need to work on so we can practice what skills they need for a test. On the flip side, I spent another class looking at poetry and a collection of my students embraced it with everything they had. There is no better reward than seeing kids’ brains click with the lesson.