Why Teachers Teach {Spin Cycle}

This past Wednesday, after leading them in several songs about days of the week, the weather, and Alice the camel, my co-teachers and I shook the hands of 20 preschoolers and pronounced them ready for Kindergarten! At the end of the graduation ceremony, we all sang the song we sing at the end of every preschool session:

For Grace Preschool is over,
And we are going home.
Goodbye, goodbye,
Be always kind and good.
Goodbye, goodbye,
Be always kind and good.

When my daughters sang this song at the end of their preschool graduations, I couldn’t help but cry. A new phase of their lives was beginning, and while I was happy that they were growing up, a part of me was sad that their preschool years were over. They were going to full day Kindergarten in the fall, and I was going to miss them! How was I going to fill my days while my little girls were at school?

The answer, as you know, was teaching at the same preschool they had attended. Teaching preschool is very different from teaching 2nd grade, as I did for thirteen years before Lily was born. I have found a passion for early childhood education that I didn’t know I possessed. I always used to say I didn’t want to teach children younger than second graders. Now I teach three and four year olds. While it can be challenging (my aunt told me teaching three year olds is like herding cats), it is also rewarding.

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A couple of my blogging friends have written about their little ones graduating from preschool, and after I read Tamara’s post about her little one, I wrote this comment: I’m expecting lots of tears from parents tonight at our preschool graduation! I might even tear up, and I’m just their teacher.  I’ve taught most of the kids for two years, and I wish I could follow them to Kindergarten! Most of the them are going to the same school as my kids, so I will get to see them every once in a while. That makes me happy.

Tamara, who has a very big, soft and squishy heart, replied back: I can’t imagine being a teacher – seeing kids come and go, but getting close with a whole new class every fall. Ah, this cycle. It was hard for me as a kid. It’s a lot harder for me as a parent.

It is hard. This year, I taught the same group of kids five days a week. Over the past two years, I’ve seen them grow taller, learn how to share, and taught them how to write their names. I’ve seen them learn amazing skills on their own through exploratory play, seen their imaginations flourish, and made them laugh by singing silly songs. It’s hard to say goodbye.

recycled flowers

It’s time, however. They are ready. Every single one of my students is Kindergarten ready. I am so proud of them, and am happy to see them fly away from their preschool home. Next fall, the cycle will start all over again, and it’s one of the things I love about my job. The fresh, new faces, the different personalities, and a chance to teach again.

This week, I volunteered at my daughters’ school for Field Day. A second grader said hello to me and I hardly recognized her. She was so tall and her baby face was gone. It’s been three years since I had her in my class, and it was so fun to see her again. I saw several other former students that day. We hula hooped together and played “Mr. Fox” and then I sent them on to the next activity. They had been happy to see me, but they were even more excited about moving on; about graduating to the next station.

They ran so fast they just about flew.


Write a Graduation Spin and link it up! (Grab the code in the text box under the button to add it to your Spin.) Would you like our Spin Cycle prompts emailed to you? Sign up for our reminders or tell me in the comments!

Link up here or over at my co-host’s blog, Gretchen at Second Blooming!


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Tulips

Ed started apologizing for the tulips he was carrying before he even sat down next to me. “Emmy picked them out, and as we were walking out of the store I remembered you’re allergic to them,” he said.

“Honestly,” I replied, “I really didn’t remember that. I think I’ll be fine.” We settled down together to watch Lily’s ballet recital that afternoon, and she would be the recipient of the tulips after the show.

Tulips (2)

Many years ago, I was a young student teacher in a middle school resource room. My cooperating teacher was amazing, and I loved teaching those kids. Dennis was a boy I particularly remember. He was in sixth grade, and yet he was fourteen since he had been held back a couple of times. He was shy and quiet, and acted younger than his fourteen years. Every morning, it became his habit to bring me a tulip. The bottom of the stem would be rough and ragged where he had torn it off. Hoping that Dennis had not stolen the tulip from the neighbors, I always placed it in a cup of water and kept it in the middle of the table where I spent most of my day working with small groups. I began to notice a pattern; I would feel fine in the evenings and early morning, but as soon as I started teaching my nose would run like crazy. It didn’t take long to make the connection between the tulip and the sneezing.

I kept that connection to myself, and Dennis continued to bring me a tulip each morning. On the last day of student teaching, I held back the tears until I made it to the car. I learned so much about teaching that semester, and would miss the teacher and students I worked with. After graduation, I found a job and worked with many, many students in the years to come. Remembering all the students I taught makes me smile–and I have a special fondness for the boy who brought me tulips.

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