December 14, 2012

this is not my home

Twenty-six years ago my mom was pregnant with me.
She was considering going back to school and obtaining an education degree.
My dad worried because he felt that being an educator was a dangerous profession.
Even with those concerns...
he ended up with two daughters who became teachers and a wife who is a high school receptionist.

That family story came to mind today in light of what happened in Connecticut.
The truth is that nearly three decades ago my dad's concerns seemed out of place.
School is crayons, games, little faces, laughter, reading time, and smiles.

Schools are the home away from home.
We are the teachers who blow kisses and give band-aides to ouchies.
We are the teachers who give hugs to any and every little face that walks into our room.
We give our time, we give our money, we give our lives to the little ones that walk in our school everyday.

But now.
Three decades later.
And especially on a day like today.
My dad's concerns seem to hold more weight.
Nobody wants concerns like that to be true.
But then I remember that my dad is just that...
a dad.
A parent.
One of two who forever hold a need to protect and care for me.
To ensure my safety.

And that is the same role we play when we set foot in the school.
We get to play parent to our students for 8 hours everyday.
We become one of three who hold a responsibility to protect and care for our students.

So my heart breaks as I think about everyone affected by the tragedy today.
It was just 5 months ago that I visited the Aurora theater complex and Columbine.
And it rocked my views as a teacher then.
As seen in //this blog post//.
And now here I am, not even a half a year later, realizing the world we live in severely flawed.

I am so thankful to know that this is not my home.
My home will someday be in a place where there will be no more tears.
So we may not have the words for this tragedy.
We may never understand it.
But no matter what I know that He is still sovereign.
And sometimes all we can do it pray.


  1. I talked to my dad about wanting to go into Teach for America once and his response was, "Annie, those districts are where kids take guns to school." It was a lot easier to dismiss him then; a little less so now.

  2. My hometown is in Connecticut... I can only send prayers to those families.

    Our art classroom is a place for students to have some peace, artwork can provide healing for others. What are you art teachers doing help your students, and help yourself? My healing processes was posted on my blog "Art as Healing" Thank you for reading