Dear Teacher with the Big Heart,
You know the kind of heart I’m talking about, don’t you?
It’s the one that splits wide open when you pull up to a grassy driveway and see the reality of what you thought you knew but couldn’t really know until you saw it with your own two eyes.
It’s the heart that pounds so loudly it keeps you awake at night meditating on the terror that grips him over the accident, the one that’s plastered on the front page of today’s newspaper like a generic weather report, “Wreck on 1-10 claims the life of a 32-year-old female driver.”
It’s the one that enlarges and wraps itself like tentacles around the girl who keeps trying to get it right but keeps falling short. You recognize yourself in her. She needs you. You need her.
It’s the heart that bleeds with anger when a colleague says, “You have him this year. Good luck getting him to do anything. He’s a lost cause.” Under your breath you whisper, “You wanna’ bet?”
It’s the heart that momentarily stops when the last bell rings for the year. The room scatters. Silence. Then a soft knock at the door, followed by a humble smile.
"You didn’t think I was going to leave without saying thanks and goodbye, did you?”
She hands you a gift bag. It doesn’t even matter what’s inside. That she returned to say thank you is the ultimate gift.
When she leaves, you open the bag to find a ceramic sand castle warmer and a note wishing you a happy summer.
That's when you know it's the heart that melts sand and turns it into a stone so strong you know you’ll do it all over again the next year.
After all, she needs you, and you need her.
How could you not?
-CDB