Keep Trying

If I were to die tomorrow (get hit by a car as I sleepily cross the street without looking – as I’m prone to do every morning), I would want my kids and colleagues to remember that I tried.

“At least she tried.”

It’s a little sad, but I think trying goes a long way.  I was chatting with a teacher friend this weekend and she said the difference between us is that maybe I care too much.

I wonder if this “care” is misplaced.  I wonder if I’m just being a tiger-mom to 49 kids rather than demonstrating that I care in, feel-y ways.  One comment I noticed often from some of my boys is, “Wow, she’s smiling!” or “Ms. Kim actually smiled!”  Maybe I should smile more.  Maybe in these little ways, I can … let my kids know that I care.

Except, what if, that’s not the reason for the barrage of all these behavioral, mental, verbal, physical outbursts?  Then I guess that brings me to square one.

At least she tried.

So, I’m arming myself with a new book I bought because two kids asked for the sequel (My internal monologue: why do you assume just because you ask, I can/should get it for you?  Because it’s a book?  So I should just.. get it?).  I’m figuring out a differentiated writing exercise for the kids who were fooling around during class time when we were supposed to  be writing rough drafts, and now have nothing for our peer-edit times.  I’m highlighting individual progress reports so that students can figure out what they need to work on.

At least, I’m trying.

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