I hate kids, but I love them more; if that makes sense. There’s something about them that makes you let out an exasperated sigh and roll your eyes. Like when they refuse to take a nap during nap time and instead go obnoxiously wake the other kids. Or when they touch you with their snot covered hands and get you sick for the next three weeks.
That was just a fraction of the many dreaded moments I had working with preschoolers. I initially fell for their absolutely innocent and cute little faces, which I realized soon after was only a trap to lure you into their devious ways. However, it was these little monsters that helped me confirm my aspirations to become a teacher.
Even though I complain about the misery they may have put me through, there were so many more rewarding moments. Like when they come running to greet you with a hug when they see your familiar face coming through the door. Or when they proudly present a portrait of you that was hand painted. The satisfaction that is shown on their faces is priceless.
Working with young kids, I realized that they were like sponges, absorbing everything you said and did, even if it wasn’t intended for them to learn. When that’s the case, you have to pay extra attention to your actions as not to send the wrong message to the kids. For some reason, that became a challenge I wanted to accept.
The young years of a child determine their future and to play such a big role in their lives as a teacher is a huge privilege and responsibility. It’s not something that anyone can do nor is it something that can be taken lightly. So with that determination, I am pursuing a career in teaching and thus planning my studies with that goal in mind.
Why do I do what I do? Because life is about impacting and being impacted by other lives; and I want to make a lasting impression on the lives of my future students. Even if they drive you up the wall, at the end of the day you know that you played a part in their growth.
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