What teachers live for

I was talking to one of my students’ parents today before class, telling her that her son is already proving to be one of the most knowledgeable in my class. She told me he came home last Sunday loving the class. He told her “Mom, you don’t even notice that you’re learning in Ms. Yourish’s class!”

Teachers don’t get compliments much better than that. It’s like pitching a perfect game. In fact, it makes me very happy, because that’s what I’ve been trying to do for five years, and hearing that tells me that I’ve succeeded.

Today, for the third straight class day, the students asked me how long they’d been in class. “An hour,” I told them. They said it felt more like ten minutes. Yep. Things are going well so far.

Every year, I get more and more on my teaching stride. I was a bit worried about this year’s class. They’re a bit, ah, rowdy. Last year, they used to stampede down the hall at the end of every day (except when I was in the hallway to stop them). They’re a little tough to manage sometimes, as they love to talk, well, all the time—but they’re mostly fine.

It’s only been a week, and I’m already falling for my new students, and not really missing my old ones. They’ve moved on. I’ve got a new group of kids to teach, and to learn about, and learn from. Every year, my students surprise me. Every class has its own dynamics and its own unpredictable quirks. The fun, and the challenge, is in figuring them out and working with (or around) them.