Here you are. Reading the crazy, insightful ramblings of our life. So who are we anyways? Rob, Amber and Louis. We’re the Remarks. A couple of lovers, parents, just trying to make it through this thing called life together, while taking some time to enjoy the ride. I’m a teacher, and Rob is an architect (… well, working towards being one). We laugh more than I thought possible, and life feels like one constant adventure. So jump on our train for a while, and ride along with us. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two, maybe you’ll laugh, or maybe you’ll shed a few tears. Whatever it is, I hope you feel somehow connected to the Remarks.

Monday, July 31, 2017

Thank A Teacher


Imagine, for a minute, you show up for your first day of work at your new job, your find your desk, and at it sits your computer but no chair. So you look around confused, and finally get up the nerve to ask "Is there a chair for me?" To which the response is "Oh you were to provide your own chair. Maybe you can try to steal Steve's chair in the next cubicle over, he seems to enjoy sitting on a stability ball." You cower over to Steve's desk, feeling guilty for borrowing his chair, but you need it to work, so you grab it and roll it back. You open up your computer and turn it on. You click on the software you are to use to complete your work and it says "This software is not available, the license is out of date." and after some conversation with coworkers you discover that your company has decided not to renew the licenses on your software, so "you can use a calculator and paper to do the tasks." You begin the calculations on some paper you found around the office, and after some time, open your drawer to staple a few of your pages together- no stapler. Shrugging, you decide to make it work, and continue on with your task. Mid-day rolls around, and you decide you'd like to meet with some of your peers. You notice a nice large conference room at the end of the hall, and discover that it is empty. No table, no chairs. You are told that the employees of the company are going to have to provide the office furniture by asking, pleading, and begging their friends and families for donations for your conference room....

This may sound absurd. It may sound unrealistic. Perhaps laughable. Exaggerated. But, this, my friends, is what is happening all around our country. These are the tasks that stand before teachers each year. 

Some people know. If you grew up in a teaching family. If you married a teacher. If your sister, best friend, or neighbor is a teacher. Some people know, see first-hand and understand. But many do not. And this summer, as I have been working hard to create a ideal learning environment for my students, it has been on my mind. 

What does it take to "create" a classroom? You see, when you accept a teaching position, you're accepting the responsibility of creating a second home for many kids. You're saying yes to creating a place that feels warm, welcoming and comfortable. You're promising to build an environment that promotes the love of learning, builds readers, encourages collaboration, minimizes distractions, and says "this is somewhere I want to be". And, most of the time, you're agreeing to do it on your dollar and your time. Because when a teacher is given a classroom, they are given just that- an empty room. Bulletin boards are blank. Book shelves are empty, and potentially don't exist. Furniture is scarce. There is no office chair, or stapler, or tape dispenser. You aren't given colorful signs, and comfortable furniture, and welcoming decorations. You're given a plain, empty, dull room, some desks, the keys, and your summer. And with those materials, you're job is to build a second home for kids. 

You purchase things. You borrow things. You get creative. You ask for donations. You scrounge up things from your house. You scour the school seeing if, maybe-just-maybe, another teacher is willing to part with a piece of their hard-earned classroom. You spend hours making, printing, laminating, cutting and hanging signs, charts and decorations. You covet garage sales, thrift stores, and Craigslist hoping to find the best deal on something for those kids. And then you spend days, upon days, upon days taking that classroom from an empty, white, dull room to one that is fun, innovative, interesting, welcoming, and homey. 

And friends, I'm not saying we don't all work hard. Oh how hard I've seen so very, many professionals work. I've seen them give of their times, their talents, their personal life, sacrificing for the people they serve. So please don't hear me wrong, I'm thankful. And us teachers, we love our jobs. We love the ownership we have of our classroom. And buying all those coordinating bins, and tubs, and stools to make it look just right. Our hearts are filled with joy when we step back and look at our completed masterpiece. So please don't hear me wrong, I'm not complaining. 

But when August comes, and you take those precious, newly-clothed, bright eyed children to their classrooms. When you watch them find their desk tag and locker tag, and marvel at the bean bags and stools and colorful displays, the chock-full book shelves with endless options of reading materials. When you see the bulletin boards hung and waiting for learning tools and student work. And when you see a teacher standing at that door of her perfectly-made classroom with a huge, proud smile on her face... Please thank her. Because every detail of that classroom was created while she was "on vacation", with her hard-earn dollar. 





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