I am a Teacher

Today was hard.

While sitting at my desk watching talented young adults create art—whether on paper or with their voices—I couldn’t help but be humbled by the fact that as their teacher, I am responsible for their safety for the periods they are in my classroom.

It was hard to sit in my chair and know that teachers in another Florida high school woke up this morning reliving yesterday’s horrific events; that students sat at desks similar to those in my room apprehensive and scared of unseen yet very real dangers; that administrators and principals across our beautiful state revisited lockdown procedures that mirrored those that were activated in South Florida.

Being perfectly honest, it was hard to be a teacher today. It was agonizing knowing that lives were ended yesterday—lives that were the same age as my students.

But, I think the hardest realization was knowing that had I been a teacher in Parkland, I would have been called upon to stand between my classes and danger.

And you know what, that scared me. It scared me because I felt a surge of protection, the “mama bear instinct”, if you will. I felt it and it overwhelmed me.

“I felt it and it overwhelmed me.”

I sat at my desk and shed tears for the students and faculty whose lives were forever changed yesterday. I shed tears for our country and for our children. I shed tears for the overwhelming sense of duty as I embraced it.

Today was hard, but today, more than ever before, I am proud to be a teacher.


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