Today she slyly slipped a note on my desk at the start of class. I knew what it probably said, based on what I had written, and I slipped it in my folder to read during my prep.
What I didn’t expect was to cry in the faculty room. Lucky for me nobody saw, but if they had, I would have had to show them this note and make them cry too.
Everything about this letter solidifies that I made the right decision in recognizing my student’s bravery and coming out to her. It warms my heart to know that I’ve made a difference, and I honestly don’t know how I’m going to make it through next Friday (my last day of student teaching). These students are my life, and my work with them has only just begun.
I am so meant to be a teacher.