Today, while unloading yet another box from the old homestead, I came across a diary I had kept the first year I taught language arts in a elementary school. The year was 1972…I was 21 years old. With my red hair and freckles, I knew it was going to be tough to convince 180 kids (4th 5th and 6th graders) that I was mature enough to be standing in front of them with a lesson plan book and a year’s supply of chalk.

The diary chronicles that school year from the very first day when I realized how exciting and exhausting teaching could be. In this parochial school, teachers did not get a planning period and we were expected to eat lunch with our children…It was nonstop all day.

My students were the greatest kids…Most of them came from large Catholic families and were down to earth and amazingly respectful to their newbie teacher.

Being the youngest teacher on the staff had its advantages. The administration liked my exuberance and my willingness to go above and beyond what was expected of me. I volunteered to put on a talent show that got rave reviews . According to my diary…My 4th, 5th and 6th graders stole the show.

What else would you expect this proud 21 year old teacher to say?