August.
Back to school.
Reflection on the past school year, planning for the year ahead.
As I opened up my laptop tonight, I found this letter I wrote to my amazing para, Deb. This past school year was only my second year having a para, and my first year working closely with Deb. She ended up retiring and I find myself missing her already even though we talk often. It's just going to be weird without Mama D in 117 with us. Seriously. It's going to be weird.
Anywhoo... if you're up for the challenge and a tear-jerker, here is the letter I wrote for her and read to her at her retirement shin-dig. :P
June 2018
Dearest Deb,
When you put a Philly Girl together with a Jersey Girl... there are bound to be moments. And when you tell either of them that they are wrong about anything... it may not end well. A few weeks ago, you had made a comment that you were not a teacher. I beg to differ. Just like you do not need biological children to be a parent, it is my belief that you do not need a degree to be a teacher. The lessons that you taught these children beyond our curriculum are extensive. You have made a true and lasting impact.
For starters, let's talk about Katie. You gave her the affection and the dignity that it seems she so often lacks. You cared for her as if she were your own flesh and blood and you treated her not only with compassion, but love.
For our students you taught them many lessons in addition to the curriculum. Your standards were high and over time you went from being "Mrs. D." to "Mama D." You loved them through it despite the many challenges and their many flaws. I had the distinct pleasure and honor to watch these students grow from boys and girls into young men and young women. You taught them with tough love, brutal honesty, and extreme grace. You never once gave up on them nor did you let them get away with even attempting to get lazy. To them, disappointing you or I was the ultimate offense.
For three students in particular, you formed really tight bonds. Let's start with our girl Cayla. You taught Cayla what it means to be proud of herself and how to hold her head high despite her many challenges.
Next up is our gal Eliza. Eliza went from avoiding you to not being able to have a good day without checking in with you and giving you a hug. You taught her how to be a lady, how to fight the good fight without throwing punches, and how to stand tall and proud with each accomplishment.
Lastly, let's talk about our Wes. He can without a doubt be difficult. He can hold things in. He used to suffer in silence. As he got to know you, he blossomed into a stronger man and he learned that his feelings are valid, he truly does have worth, and he never has been and never will be a failure. So when you say you are not a teacher... I beg to differ. I'm from Philly and I will fight you on this.
Deb, you have been an extreme blessing in my life not only as a colleague but as a friend. Selfishly, I want you to stay. But your retirement even teaches the students the importance of a vow and a covenant. You need to dedicate your time to your husband even through these trying times and the kids picked up on it. You have the biggest heart and most generous spirit. I will miss you being with me every single day. I'll probably have to bring up some of my former Catholic roots and have a Mama D shrine somewhere. I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me, but especially these students.
Love,
Leigh Anne