I take immense pride in my role as a public school teacher. It’s not just a job; it’s a vocation that I cherish deeply. Every day, I carry the responsibility of shaping your child’s future, an honor that I don’t take lightly.
It’s a significant duty to be a trusted adult in your child’s life, right alongside you. “Mrs. Carter” often comes right after “Mom” in their world, either brightening their day or making it challenging. I strive to uplift your child, choosing joy and encouragement, even if they don’t always recognize it.
While I may disagree with some district policies and not see eye to eye with every colleague, I can assure you: anyone who lasts in this profession for over a year has a genuine love for your children. We work tirelessly and passionately to support them.
I often sacrifice my lunch break to handle practical matters—making copies, communicating with parents, resolving conflicts among fourth graders, or ensuring a student has winter gloves. There are times when I don’t even get a moment to myself until the afternoon. It’s hard to imagine another profession where someone with advanced degrees must ask permission to take a bathroom break.
I am a hugger. I will embrace your child, even if they come to school with lice or a cold. I won’t shy away from their sweaty hands. If an accident happens, I won’t hesitate to put on gloves and clean up, ensuring they feel comfortable returning to class without embarrassment.
Every phone call home starts on a positive note. I believe every child has strengths worth celebrating. I will advocate fiercely for your child, prioritizing their needs over my social life.
You might receive my cell number because I want to be accessible. I’ll respond to messages on weekends; I even check my email late at night. If you’re going through tough times, I might just buy your family Christmas gifts or help cover field trip costs. I’ve made home and hospital visits, attended birthday parties, and sometimes I blur the lines of professional boundaries. But I truly believe it takes a village, and I’m honored to be part of yours.
Public education represents one of the last true democratic systems in our country. Ideally, it provides every child with an equal opportunity to succeed. We send our kids to school each day, where they learn, play, and navigate complex social dynamics under the guidance of caring adults.
However, with each school shooting, what was once an unimaginable tragedy is becoming disturbingly normal. When I enter my classroom, my first thought is often about where we would hide in the event of a shooter. I’m fortunate; as a special education teacher, my classroom is located at the end of the hall, away from the main traffic areas. The room has two large metal doors, and behind another locked door, there’s a supply closet.
During our initial lockdown drill, I explained to my students that our best option would be to lock ourselves in that closet for safety. While it might seem like a long shot, I rationalized that we would have time to secure ourselves while the chaos unfolded elsewhere.
Here’s the hard truth: I will be in that supply closet whether your child is with me or not. I will not run towards gunfire. I cannot promise to shield anyone with my body or hold the door for children caught in the hallway.
Some might expect otherwise, but I have to be honest: I love your children, but my own come first. I am a teacher, yes, but above all, I am a daughter, a sister, and a mother. I didn’t embark on this career expecting to put my life on the line. If I were that selfless, I would have chosen to be a police officer, firefighter, or soldier. I’m not; I’m just a person who wants to return home safely each evening.
I am truly sorry, but I won’t be your child’s savior.