I've never had a chance to kick my feet up, arms behind head, looking around in pride at all that I've done. I guess the fact that I've only been teaching for four years and that I screw up on a constant basis has to do with it.
But for the first time, I felt that rewarding feeling that people commonly associate with teaching kids. It came in the form of Terrell, a formerly puny (adorable, but teensy weensy nonetheless) boy who in his screechy voice asked me if I needed any help. He came back as a soon-to-be 10th grader, complete with a muscular frame and deeper tonal changes. He scared me half to death because I didn't recognize the burly stranger at my door.
Dunno if he learned anything from me. Barely talked about academics. Just his friends and basketball. It doesn't really matter. Just seeing him changed, even if it's just on the physical level was powerful. To know that I had a part in witnessing the bloom of a growing man was reward enough.
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