the work of my heart

bleeding comments.

When I was learning to be a human being, I was taught the golden rule. Treat others the way you want to be treated. If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. I was raised to seek out the best in others, to peer beyond the mere surface, and to patiently await the beauty in everyone. The teachers of these moments, these frameworks of human kindness multi-faceted: my parents, elementary teachers, grandparents, neighbors, middle and high school teachers, coaches, friends, and pastors.

Here I sit wondering where these lessons fell along the way with the people, the present, who condemn me in my profession with harsh jabs directed toward all in my vocation. Political prowess stabs me, and so many attack with their horrific words, fingers, and daggers. And yet, they don't even know me. None of them have ever stepped foot in my place of work. They have never seen my transcripts, my lesson plans, my philosophy of education. And yet they seethe their venomous words into the heart of who I am, a teacher.

Do you know what I do? Do you know why I do what I do? Do you know who I am? Do you know the training I hold? The hearts I touch? The faces I see? Could you do it? Have you tried? Do you understand the consequences of what you are doing. . . and saying. . . and proposing?

Though you claim that the future is the center of your allegations and decisions, you are dismissing the faces of those who beard it. Your children. Our children.

With all that beats within me, I seek to reject your words, to continue to peer beyond the hideousness of your words, for they speak not of me. But they affect so much more. My opus is not yet complete while I live the rules that shaped me into the teacher I am today and teach the future while I persevere to my commitment and my passion in spite of you. With my chin up, my head held high, with both feet on the ground, I march not at the capitol but into my classroom to continue the work of my heart.