care and there

 field notes

When I was in 4th grade, I sat at a desk in an old, slat seat Shaker chair.

There were nails in each slat to attach them to the frame of the chair. 

One day, as I was writing in my writing notebook, my pencil broke. 

I rose from the chair to go to the pencil sharpener. 

One of the nails in one of the slats rose, too, and caught the back pocket of my Sears Toughskin jeans. 

The pocket ripped completely away from my pants! 

I sat back down. 

I pretended to keep writing with my broken pencil until my teacher, Ms. Ferguson, directed the class to line up for lunch. 

Everyone followed her directions, for she was a teacher who didn’t suffer fools lightly.

Yep, everyone followed her directions.

Except me! 

“Trevor Barton,” she asked, “what’s the matter with you?” 

As all good teachers do, she knew by the look on my face that something wasn’t quite right. 

She walked over to my desk. 

She leaned in to me.

She looked at me with that wonderful teacher look of a mixture of inquisitiveness and care. 

Tears rolled down my cheeks and onto my half finished story in my notebook. 

“A nail caught my pocket and ripped my pants,” I sniffled. 

“Everyone is gonna laugh at me if they see my, um, Fruit of the Looms.” 

And as you probably know, one of the worst things that can happen to a 4th grader is to be laughed at by your peers.

In that moment, Ms. Ferguson did for me what I try to do for my students every day (especially my immigrant students, who are trying to navigate aworld that is an unmapped place for them.) 

She took off her coat.

She wrapped it around me.

She walked me around my classmates and to the office to call my mom to bring me another pair of toughskins. 

She was my protector.

She was my accompanier.

She was my teacher.

Yep, I want to be that kind of teacher.

I want to wrap my students in all that I have and all that I am.

I want to walk beside them, with them.

I want them to look into themselves, as I looked into myself on that day in my classroom in Taylors, South Carolina and see, and know, that their teacher CARES for them and is THERE for them.

I want to be a ‘care’ and ‘there’ teacher.

Always.