"I am..."

The butterflies residing in my stomach take flight in a tornado of nerves, each time I stand before thirty-plus pairs of eyes staring back at me.

I take a deep, steadying breath, raise my hands and all together we sign, “I am intelligent.”

In that moment, the thought arises, Do they know how smart they truly are?

“I am worthy.” Another thought invades, They are worthy of every dream they have ever hoped to achieve. If only they believed that about themselves

“I am awesome.” On this particular affirmation, I look around and see how each has some unique and “awesome” quality to offer. I hope it is as obvious to them as it is to me.

At the end of our daily affirmations, I pray it’s done some good to counteract the damage this negative world has done to their self-image and esteem.

I am a teacher. Often, teachers are referred to as “heroes.” Lord knows I certainly don’t feel as incredible as The Hulk or as amazing as Spiderman, and I most certainly don’t consider myself mighty like Thor. Truthfully, I feel like I could be so much more for them, that I could do so much more for them, but nevertheless I try.

I had fallen in love with Deaf Culture and sign language when I was fifteen. The same age as many of my students taking ASL I. I remember what it felt like, seeing this magical form of communication come to life on my instructor’s hands and thinking how cool and unique and important it was. Many years later, after taking a few life detours, I am now that instructor, wanting so desperately to recreate that feeling for my kids; offering a unique opportunity to speak with their hands and listen with their eyes. I also hope to inspire in them a desire to befriend some of the best souls around, ones only found in the deaf community.

My main purpose every day, however, is to simply share a bit of joy with them, and to have fun. The world is so serious, the last thing these kids need is a teacher who is going to put another load of stress on their already heavily burdened shoulders. While they do have criteria to meet, a standard of excellence I do everything in my power to help them achieve, I do try to make it relevant.

Back to our daily class warmups. After counting numbers and forming the alphabet with our fingers, I press play on my computer, blasting “Shout” by Tears for Fears, through the classroom speakers. One of the coolest aspects of sign language is the ability to make music and sound a 3D experience. Music is not simply words and a beat to bop your head to, it is a complex series of emotions which can be felt louder through the signs formed on the hands, movements of the body, and expression on the face than one can ever hear with their ears.

Yes, there is definitely dancing, and a bit of teasing involved, but there are smiles. I cannot tell you how rare a smile sighting is in the florescent lighting of a locker-lined high school hallway. When there is a smile to be found, it is a precious gift, one I will work my tail off to see again. My favorite little victories are when the moody ones, or the quiet and shy ones joke with me or suddenly become the most social one in the bunch. This means they feel comfortable enough to open up, to be silly, to be a kid again.

Indeed, my students get a fun loving, goofy, positive teacher, but they don’t know how much they help create that in me every time I step foot in the classroom. They aren’t aware how many times I’ve arrived to school with a broken heart, or in a foul mood over who knows what. All that changes however, when they enter my room and I remember why I am there. They experience those things too, probably much worse than I ever will and if I can use my passion for ASL and my fun loving, goofy demeanor to brighten their day or even alter their life’s perspective, then any challenging moment that presents itself will have all been worth it.

They don’t tell you in new teacher orientation how tough this profession truly is, how it is more than just teaching the subject you have been dubbed qualified enough to teach by whatever institution you graduated from. They also don’t tell you about the funny things the kids say, the heartwarming moments that bring you tears, or the way they make you a better human being just by existing.

One more memory I wish to leave you with. One of my kids called themselves stupid and their classmate immediately countered, “No! Remember,” switching to sign, “you are intelligent.”

That is why I do what I do.