Lesson Learned: Assume that you made a difference

My first year of teaching was rough ... to say the least. The first year is always the hardest, they say, but on top of that, I also had a doozy of a class ... to put it nicely. At the beginning of the year, I had envisioned myself being a mix of Ms. Frizzle, Bill Nye, Mr. Feeny, Mr. Escalante, and Anne Shirley.

I thought teaching would look like this...

Dead Poet's Society

By the end of the year, it felt more like this...

Miss Nelson is Missing

I was seriously deflated, I was considering a career change, and I felt like I had failed my little first graders. Several of them still didn't know how to read, still got addition and subtraction mixed up, and consistently wrote b's instead of d's which meant that their chance of success in life was utterly ruined.

Fast forward to last night... I went to Olive Garden and the hostess said hi to me in a way that I could tell she knew me but I couldn't figure out how I would know her. After we got to our table, the waiter asked if we knew the hostess because apparently she had told him that he was supposed to give our table the highest level of service and be extra nice to us. After sheepishly admitting that I couldn't remember her, he told me that she was the mom of one of my first graders last year. She had told the waiter that I had really made a difference in her son, Elijah's life and that she was so grateful he had been in my class and that he still talks about the time when I had the whole class (including the two class bullies who constantly picked on him) write him notes telling him how great he was and telling him something he was good at.

I was so surprised. Elijah was one of those kids who I thought I had failed. He was academically behind, struggled socially, was almost as tall as me, had zero gross/fine motor skills, and was one of the sweetest, kindest boys I had in my class that year. I felt bad that he was picked on, I felt bad that he couldn't keep up with the other kids who were playing outside, I felt bad that he never knew the right answer, I felt bad that his handwriting was so out of control that I could never read it, I felt bad that I hadn't referred him to special ed even though he probably needed it. I thought that I hadn't made a difference. I felt like he had slipped through the cracks and that I was just passing him on to second grade, hoping that they could help him. I was so surprised last night to find out that maybe I hadn't failed him as much as I had thought.

President Gordon B. Hinckley had a similar experience...

I remember going to a stake conference in the East many years ago. On the plane coming home, I felt that I had been a total failure. I felt I had not touched anyone for good. I was miserable with a sense of inadequacy. 

Then, some years later, I was at another conference in California. At the conclusion of the meeting a man came up to me and said, “You were at a conference a few years ago in such-and-such a place.” 

“Yes,” I said, “I was there, and I remember the occasion.” 

The man said: “You touched my heart. I came to that meeting out of curiosity. I really had no interest. I was on the verge of leaving the Church. But when it was announced that one of the Twelve Apostles would be there, I decided to go. 

“You said something that started me to think. It touched me and stayed with me and stirred me. I decided to alter my course. I turned my life around. I am now living here in California. I have a good job, for which I am grateful. I hope I am a good husband and father. And I am now serving as a counselor in the bishopric of my ward. I am happier than I have ever been at any time in my life.” 

I thanked him, and when I left him I said to myself, shaking my head: “You never know. You never know whether you do any good. You never know how much good you do.” 

(Read the rest of his talk here.)

So I'm starting to learn that we should assume that when we are trying our hardest and doing our best, chances are high that we helped someone and that we made a difference... even if we don't see it immediately, next year, or ever.

Just something to mull over.