Officially, my title is superintendent, but I still like to believe that I am a teacher at heart.
This column is intended to give a glimpse into a teacher’s heart … all teachers’ hearts.
Recently, I was at a Midlothian High School home wrestling match. I did not have to attend the match, I wanted to be there. It was a choice. I wanted to see our kids wrestle.
While watching the event, I did not notice a telephone call that came in on my cell phone clipped to my belt.
After the meet, I went back to the office, slid my phone out of its case, and saw that I had a message. It was from my son, Eric. He is an Army Ranger, twenty years of age. At the time, he was on his third tour of duty in Afghanistan.
Eric called to tell me that he had been wounded. My son and other members of his platoon had caught some shrapnel in a battle. “Don’t’ worry, Dad,” were his words. “I’m OK.” [Note: A few weeks later he was awarded a Purple Heart, he is fine, and Eric is now in the states with the rest of his battalion].
I missed my son’s call.
Teachers miss family time … family happenings … family things … because they choose to spend time at their students’ events.
I can tell you, teachers give.
Many years ago, a middle school student left school on his bicycle. It was his ride home that day. The weather was terrible – a heavy rain was pounding the earth. The details are unknown, but what is known is that he landed in a bar ditch full of rushing water. His lungs filled with water. He was quickly found, rushed to the hospital, and put on a ventilator in an attempt to save his life. That afternoon I saw him take his last breath.
I can tell you, teachers cry.
There isn’t room in this column for the last story. It is published elsewhere. But love – unconditional love – is a characteristic of all teachers. I have seen it in Midlothian ISD …
I can tell you, teachers love.
I can tell you, I am thankful to be a teacher.