Thank a teacher

I heard a story on the radio this morning that made me smile.

Before surgery, a neurosurgeon's patient asked who had inspired him to become a doctor, and he said his junior high science teacher had been a big influence on him. When the patient came out of surgery, he told his doc, "You make sure you call that teacher! You make sure you thank him!" He did. The teacher's response? He cried. (You can listen to the full three-minute story here.)

You see, teachers don't hear "thank you" very often.

It reminded me of standing in line at the mall last week. There's not much in life I hate more than the mall, except maybe the mall at Christmastime. Ugh. I'd ordered something online, though, and while waiting for an employee to go get it out of the back room, another employee struck up a conversation with me. When he found out I teach at West High, his face lit up.

"That was my school!" he beamed. "Class of '91! You know, I just called Dr. Arganbright a couple of months ago."

He was the store manager, so I thought maybe he was interested in mentoring kids in business or something, but what he said next surprised me.

"I don't know if it was a midlife crisis or what," he said, getting red-faced and sheepish. "I just wanted to tell him thanks . . . maybe he thought I was crazy or something . . . "

"No! I'm sure he was happy to hear from you!" I said. Right then, the employee came back with my stuff and sent me on my way. I never got to finish telling the guy how great it was that he'd thanked someone for his education.

One of my current classes -- ten kids from ten different countries!

Some days being a teacher is great. I love kids. I wouldn't want a job that left me feeling like I didn't at least have a chance to have an influence on the next generation.

But other days? Honestly, there are days when I can't wait for that last bell to ring and the last kid to shuffle out so I can just prop my elbows on my desk, hold my head in my hands, and wonder why on earth I didn't go into some other field. Any other field. One that doesn't involve anyone under age 25.

Here's the thing: we don't know how good we've got it until we've had some time to experience life and do some reflecting . . . so when is it we realize how good a certain teacher was? Not until long after we've left their classroom. I get that. I know kids don't think the way adults do. That's why it means so much when an adult, who used to be a kid in your classroom, surprises you with a thank you.

If you've got some time this weekend, do a little internet research. Find a teacher who meant a lot to you and take five minutes to write them a letter. Seriously. They'll hold on to it for weeks. Months. Maybe forever. Ten bucks says they'll cry. That's been my response the few times I've heard from old students.

Teaching is not for the faint of heart. Some days are sunshine but other days are rain. Bring a little sunshine to someone's life this weekend. You have no idea what a difference it will make . . .