Sometimes…
I get home from work and I’m dead tired. It’s been a long day, a long week, and all I want to do is curl up under a blanket until morning.
On these days I ponder why I work with kids. I wonder why I choose to go in to work every day, why I choose to pull my hair out and go crazy. Why do I do it?
Then I open my backpack and find this….
I know that’s a horrible picture, but basically it’s a note from one of my first graders that is written in adorable little kid handwriting, thanking me for being her awesome teacher.
And then I remember…
that’s why I do it all.
