The following is a tribute to the caring professionals I have the privilege of working with and to those in classrooms throughout our nation. They are the unsung heroes who labor with little acknowledgement and modest compensation.
These are the faithful teachers asked to spin more gold with less and less straw. If you know a teacher, take a moment to thank them…for the future of our nation depends upon the youth filling their classrooms today!
I do not have a lot of pretty pictures to fill this post with…perhaps fitting in light of its message:
Who blows the trumpet
When the trumpeters have gone
Sullen and morose, kicking dirt
Discouragement their weary pied piper
Yet some will wait behind
For hopeful words from on high
Glancing towards the heavens
For rainbows of possibilities
There is not a lot to smile about these days. Economic crisis splashes the news with gloom and doom except for intermittent reports of weather catastrophes.
People at my work grow hopeless and sullen. Many brace for the devastation resulting from next year’s pay cuts. Some speak of finding second jobs, which seems unbelievable in light of how hard they work at the first one.
Others wrestle with the possibility of loosing homes due to insufficient funds. Yet all the while, youth grow increasingly unmotivated, belligerent, and unruly.
Yesterday at my school, the trumpeters seemed to have all gone home. Those of us left faced working without a promising future.
I felt the migraine crawl up my neck and into my skull while raucous students squirmed in seats, laughed with friends, and refused to listen. From the first class to the last, the migraine grew until their high-pitched voices sent shards of pain through my brain.
Drama, fights, and cries all muffled the intended lesson. “The 7th grade State Writing Exam looms only two weeks away,” I cried inside while my trumpet fell to the floor. I did not have the breath to blow one more time.
I tell myself there has to be hope. My colleagues and I look for any glint of promise. We work without trumpeters heralding the good to come. We only hear the voices of warning, “Prepare for ruin!”
So today I pay tribute to “the faithful.” These are those weary teachers who faithfully work in spite of the dark storm gathering. Maybe this generation will one day glance back over shoulder and thank them. If not, I know heaven will!
Hurricane photo courtesy of John Larew www.pbase.com/nc911/image/84186408