When I was teacher, even though I would, at times, get mad at my students, I often considered them angels in disguise. My mindset suggested that any fault or shortcoming they had was the result of a shoddy system that adorned them with great burdens. I thought this because I valued their story. When they talked back to me or refused to pick up a their pencils or refuted my directions, I, while holding them to high expectations, reminded myself that they are a product of their environment, an environment afforded them by society. I valued their story and because of that, I loved them dearly, more than I had ever loved a non-family human being before.
As a teacher, my openness to the stories of those around me was inherent, I was hungry to learn their stories, I craved their influence in my own story. However, outside of teaching, I struggled to fuel the same desire. Subconsciously, I valued the stories of my students above the those around me. I sought to know who my students were, but I neglected to learn about those I worked with or interacted with in my life's routines.
When I learned to accept my students as a changeable product of many things, I learned to loved them deeper than I thought was possible. As I step away from teaching and the expectations demanded of me in such a tense environment, I'm seeking the stories of all those around me. Being a teacher changed me far more than any experience I ever had before. I desire that same change, but this time, I desire through the knowledge of the "everyday" story, the person I pass running, the mentor I've long admired, the friend's mom who is so gracious to me, my grandma who is our family's matriarch, my parents who are quiet but soulful, those who have long been a part of my life, those who are coming and going for a moment.
I believe learning to value this stories is learning to love.
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