One of my favorite stories is by Loren Eisley. He tells of a man walking along a beach and discovering a boy gently picking up starfish and throwing them back in the ocean. Approaching the boy, he asked, “What are you doing?” The youth replied, “Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them back, they’ll die.” “Son,” the man said, “don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can’t make a difference!” After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it back into the surf. Then, smiling at the man he said, “I made a difference for that one.”
I am a teacher. It’s not what I do. It’s WHO I am. I was teacher before I was wife or mother. On some primordial level, it is who I was always meant to be. I have lived my adult life under the auspices of Christa McAuliffe’s words, “I touch the future, I teach,” and when someone has pointed out that I ‘can’t save them all,’ I’ve just smiled and continued to ‘make a difference’.
That’s not to say that I haven’t had bad days, but I’ve always joked that a bad day at school was better than a good day at the company I worked for just out of college. I’ve been able to get over those days by pulling out my ‘sunshine folder’, a bright yellow file filled with positive notes from parents, students, teachers, and administrators. A few minutes of sunshine usually did the trick, and I could put whatever it was about the day in perspective.
But recently I have questioned the very thing that has kept me going for twenty-four years. Have I ever truly made a difference? I know I matter in the here and now, but what about long-term? Has the time, energy, heart, and soul I have poured into teaching really made a difference to any one of my students?
For the first time, I actually thought that maybe I should be doing something else.
I tried to stifle that little voice in my head; after all, I’ve kept in touch with many former students, and they’re leading happy, productive lives. It’s always a joy to hear about a college graduation, a dream, a new job, a wedding, or a baby, and, it’s easy to feel pride in what they’ve accomplished and take a little credit for their successes. But in a dark moment earlier this week, that little voice whispered, “Those kids would’ve done well with or without you. What about the other ones? What did you do for them?” And that little voice, that little doubt, opened up a floodgate I wasn’t quite prepared for; a feeling of total insignificance.
I thought about the starfish story. A story that had always filled me with hope, suddenly took on a different meaning. What if the man was right and I wasn’t making a difference?
I’ve been walking that beach for twenty-four years, gently rescuing starfish, and I’ve done so under the misguided notion that once I tossed them back into the ocean that everything would be okay. Oh, if only I had that kind of power!
In reality, when I look back at the beach I’ve walked, I see some of the same starfish washed back on shore. Some of them I tossed back in several times, but reality is I can’t save them every time they need it. Even sadder is the fact that some of them have washed so far ashore that I can’t even reach them. And if I look forward, I see more rescued starfish being washed up on the shore again and again, and I worry that many of them won’t make it back in the water safely.
I spent the better part of last week on the verge of tears, my heart aching because there were so many things outside my control that I really wanted to fix but I knew I couldn’t. It was sort of a Jimmy Stewart/It’s a Wonderful Life kind of week. And then, for some reason, I went through my virtual sunshine folder, and came across this email: “You added to my life, and I would like to think I wouldn’t be where I am today without you.” It came about three years ago from one of those ‘starfish’ I still worry about.
So, what can I say? I AM a teacher. I may never know how far-reaching my influence is, but I have to trust that it doesn’t end when a student leaves my class. And I have to remember that even though I can’t remove all the pain and sorrow from my students’ lives, I DO make a difference. For some of them, I may be the only person who does.
teach from the heart 
Several years ago, the faculty at DBU was asked to answer the question, “Why do you teach at DBU?” One of my favorite professors Dr. Peggy Trammell wrote, “Why does an artist pain? He mus! That is why I teach; I must. When I was formed God put within me those talents, abilities, skills, concerns, and love for students that a teacher must have. Because God fashioned me in the manner of a teacher, I have never considered any other profession. I have found following His call has given me a rewarding life and a heart full of precious memories.” I keep that statement on the bulletin quilt (a teacher themed quilt I use as a bulletin board in my office) to remind me of why I teach in those moments when I wonder if I make a difference. I truly believe that I am where I am supposed to be– where I was created to be. It is sometimes an act of faith to continue when I have those haunting questions. I relate well to your post today.
Thanks for sharing this, Judy. Part of the calling is the overwhelming sense of responsibility that comes with it. We never truly let go of the students who cross into our classrooms. Each one leaves a little piece behind in our hearts.
Jen,
Thanks for your touching piece. I believe most of us in the helping professions experience these feelings from time to time. I do.
I too have my “yellow folder” to peruse when I need an extra lift. In fact, years ago I reduced a personal poetic letter from a teacher at my school and keep it tucked away in my wallet, just knowing it’s there, like a good omen.
Jen, we can only do what we can do, giving from our heart each day. YOU know how much you’ve given to individual kids—no tests needed. Multiply that by 180 days for 24 years. That’s 4,320 days of GIVING to others! WOW.
One school year I was recuperating from surgery at home, when the retired husband of one of my first grade teachers called me and asked if I were well enough for him to take me out to lunch. It really perked me up and I believe speeded up my recovery. When I asked him why he decided to call me, he explained that each day during his retirement years he tries to do something for someone. That lunch was a great lesson in GIVING!
During the past few years I’ve reconnected with a number of former students on Facebook and realize one can never possibly project into the future how you may have helped someone. Sometimes it’s the tiniest little act of kindness that the student remembers or a teacher whom they’ve taken as a role model in their life’s journey, or… One student reminded me how I stopped by the road going home in my 1969 VW Bug and helped her recover from a minor bicycle mishap. I was able to pull that out of my memory bank only after she reminded me. She was so proud to share with me that she has since earned her doctorate in Physical Education.
Yes, you DO make a difference!
Richard,
Thank you for sharing your own story above and for retweeting my post. I agree that most of us experience that moment of despair at some point every few years. I jokingly call it the ‘curse of caring too much’. I hadn’t thought about adding up the days, but I had added up the number of students. If my calculation is right, I’ve taught just fewer than 900 students, and then when I think of how many of them have gone on to be teachers…
As I was working on this post Saturday, a facebook message popped up from a former student, asking for my cell phone number. She wanted to send me a picture of her newborn. I have looked at that picture several times, and I smile knowing she sent it because somehow, something I did touched her life.
This is not easy to say. I have been there too. We are entitled to feel thus. But our vocation demands we return to what is important. Not us, but the service we are called to do: to serve the students that enter our life, whenever they enter, for as long as they are with us, and that when they go, to let them go.
We can teach them only that which they are ready to receive and no more. Those who return with the incoming waves, not making it beyond the swash zone, have not been failed. You have taught them how far out they can go at that time, and how to go out. Their return is for another teacher – person or experience – a teacher they may not have had the opportunity to meet had they not first crossed YOUR path.
We go on and look back, not with regret, but with the satisfaction, that in our heart, with our honest commitment and strongest endeavor, we have done what we could – that this was as much as could be done for the time even if not the totality of what was needed – and being so, moved on. We go on for to stop would be to reject all that we ultimately teach our students, namely, that you must go on; jump every hurdle, brave every storm, cross every ocean if this is what must be done to be all that we can be.
You.are.a.Teacher. You must be all that you can be. Dwell not on your influence and instead rejoice in your being – and that your efforts today WILL lead to another better tomorrow no matter how slight..
Peter,
Beautifully written, and all things I know. Sometimes, however, I think we all think, “If only I could’ve done one more thing.” Especially for those one who tug extra hard at our heart strings.
Teaching isn’t for the faint of heart. Each student takes a little piece of us and leaves a piece of him/herself behind.
You can never do one more thing; you would have done it otherwise.
But yes, no can not be taught how to let go. Find your centre.
http://bit.ly/ArKAB
Beautiful link. The Emerson quote on my door says, “Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. This day is all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations,to waste a moment on yesterdays.”
There you go. Nice quote. Must pass that on to my students.
Since my mother has improved so much, I now have a little more time to do do the things I started, including continuing our close relationship when becoming FB friends. I’ve even recently reconnected with several ASJ teachers/faculty (including Judy who replied to this specific blog), but except for you, Judy, and Wanda Thompson just have not had enough time to write special messages to each one! Although at the beginning of your blogs, I thoroughly enjoyed reading them but when Mom was so sick, I didn’t have the time to read the others until today.
This is the first one I’ve read in a long time. I have no idea why it was today that I chose to read your latest one above, but things like this always happens to me. Not only was the content of your blog so meaningful, but also read that Judy replied to this one.
The first thing that startled me was you mentioning Christa McAuliffe’s words, “I touch the future, I teach,” and when someone has pointed out that I ‘can’t save them all,’ I’ve just smiled and continued to ‘make a difference’.
I think I already sent Judy a message regarding Christa, because I taught Fowler in third grade when the space shuttle exploded that year and that class watched it “LIVE” on TV. It’s a long story I won’t repeat regarding two other brilliant students in our class (one of who Judy has kept in touch) …
Another coincidence in this blog mentioning Christa McAuliffe – she and I were born on the same day and year! Sept. 2, 1948! I still have the sweatshirt with the words, “I touch the future, I teach!”
For some reason within “my being,” I never felt insignificant as a teacher until “Inclusion” was implemented for most of my resource students! Before inclusion, I felt a lack of appreciation of my efforts to reach as many students as possible, but always felt confident I did the best I could to do the right thing to meet my students’ needs. Of course, in doing the “right thing,” many times I did NOT follow the “traditional” or “mandated district guidelines,” but always “did my homework” (having new educational research documentation) in order to support my teaching methods/practices/etc. in case any one told me to follow “district guidelines” or ELSE! Of course, until Bobbi Jasper, I never received super observations or evaluations! Most of the principals I taught under didn’t agree with my teaching practices. I didn’t care about this, until career ladder was implemented, as long as they were good enough to get my 3 year contract renewed! ha ha
I also believed in being totally honest with parents about their child but told them more positive attributes rather than dwelling on their weaknesses. (Oh…I remember, especially three parents, who either complained or wrote me hate notes! I was just stubborn and somehow got through those experiences.)
And last, but not least … I still have my “Sunshine Folder!”
Another reality! A teacher may not observe the impact they have on a student during the year he/she is in her/his class. But ALL teachers have a life-long impact on their students! It’s just the teacher’s choice whether it is a positive or negative impact. In addition, ALL children learn; this is also a choice a teacher must make. Will the students learn that learning is a life-long process and no matter how boring, they do need to learn some things that are boring to them in order to learn. True…you many not see the results the year they are in your class…but I definitely know, with maturity most remember the positives learned from their past.
What is NOT needed in our educational system are those few teachers that only know how to use “PUT DOWN” statements like, “You will NEVER learn … whatever,” or “Why are you always bad?” or “You are lazy, you aren’t working up to your ability!”…etc. Those tend to make sure that student will not live up to his/her potential!
I choose to believe many adults choose to remember at least one “special” teacher that enables one to overcome all the negative comments by others.
One day, I’ll read more of your blogs. They are wonderful and so well written that you should publish them in a book!
Luv ya! Donna
PS I didn’t edit this…not enough time so it just is what it is! 🙂
So glad your mom is doing better and that you had a chance to read this one. I was in a Philosophy of Ed. class watching the Challenger launch – hard not to forget that moment.
And I always knew you were a kindred spirit. 🙂 I love your long messages because I can hear your voice and your passion for things you love.
You are one of many amazing teachers who have inspired me throughout my teaching career.
I just replied to, “Feeling Insignificant” … but it doesn’t show. It was really quite long and possible needs to be approved by this site before it is actually posted.
I tend to become “Fixated” on just about anything about my passions or just “ideas” of new things I want to do…so that reply is quite long.
When writing, in the back of my mind, I knew there was something other than what I wrote that always JOLTED me into reality whenever I was trying to change the “status quo” or not finding the technique of the way a certain student learned differently, or questioning my methods of trying to change things on the campus, or in the district, or at the state/national level. This is short and sweet. If my memory is correct, Pattie Getner gave all staff a 8X10′ with a picture of a variety of students in a group at the bottom of this paper with a two paragraph “Thought.”
I found it…was in a frame on my wall at my computer center along with other ed. certifications, etc. I just had to take it down and post the words below:
“A hundred years from now
it will not matter
what my bank account was,
the sort of house I lived in,
or the kind of car I drove
but the world may be different
because I was important
in the life of a child.”
Enough said… 🙂
Your first post should show up now. It’s set up that I have to approve the message the first time you post a comment. 🙂 I remember that poem well, and it was Patti and Ellyn who gave us our sunshine folders.
I’ve been teaching for 3 years, in other words, I’m a new teacher. I have a BA in Business Administration, I worked at 2 companies, before I became a teacher, and I never had felt as happier as I’m today.
I remember when I was a little girl, I wanted to be a teacher, I used to play pretending that I was a teacher, I had my white board and sat all the teddy bears and play and study with them for hours, I had so much fun.
Is no difference now, I have lots fun with the students and everyday something happens that fills my heart with love. A smile, a hug, a letter, a joke… I’m teaching English to kindergarten students in China, and is amazing how a little sentence or song they learn will make you proud of being a teacher.
Maybe we reach them and make a difference, but even if we don’t, what matters is the present, what we are doing for them and what they are doing for us in the present time, kids that need attention- we give it to them, kids that are lonely-we are there for them, kids that need boundaries- we give them, and they all give us back something in return.
Just think about your students, easy loving students, difficult students, and try to think how the influence your personal and professional life, they’ve make a difference in you.
Thank you for being open enough to share these thoughts. I know I’ve felt them many, many times. What teacher hasn’t?
I think the point of Eiseley’s story is to keep trying and moving forward. You can’t save them all. No one single person can. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t making a difference to some of those on our path.
One of the difficult things to teaching is the uncertainty that goes with that. You know that as well as I do.
We sow and some one else reaps. It’s hard to tell where our influence and help end and another’s begin.
That’s why it’s such a blessing to get an email like you received or all those notes we keep in our sunshine file.
We have to remind ourselves and each other that we are doing what we can and making a difference. God takes care of so many things that we can’t see.
Thanks again for posting this.
—Justin from Pursuing Context
Justin,
Thanks for the kind words. This one was sort of an outpouring of the soul. 🙂 It’s funny that you mention “We sow and someone else reaps.” That is one of the things I mention when asked about what makes teaching difficult. We don’t always see the final project. It is truly a leap of faith.