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Back Where I Belong

Work.

Work is a four letter word for most. If you work with children and view it this way, I'd be glad to part ways with you and I mean that with great sincerity. I point to social media often, but the number of teachers I am friends with is astounding. The number of those who complain about their job is minimal, but it's enough to be known. I have no use for these people and in most cases, remain friends out of a favor to others. I simply can't comprehend anyone working with children not feeling pride and joy, each and every day.

Yes, I get it. We'd all love to sip margaritas and leave our pants in the drawer. I've lived that life. Not in the relaxed sense, but in the way where my options were limited and my physical abilities had become a burden. Recently, I returned and while not exactly what I'd like to be doing, I am happy again. I have stories, laughs and I feel energized. So much so, I am sleeping again. I have fears, but not once I'm there. Sure I have days I'd rather be in bed with some snacks and a movie, but then a child reaches up and grabs my hand or gives me a random hug and I forget about me.

That is what it is all about for me and I assume for most. The thing I missed most about working with kids isn't that it's a job. It's not about money, which I will never have enough to be even remotely comfortable with my life. It's about that time. For those hours, every woe; physical, emotional and financial, all get stripped away and four however long I am there, I cease to exist for myself.

I'm at peace with that.

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