The Sainthood Of Kindergarten Teachers

I came running off the school bus, screaming. That’s my only memory of my first day of kindergarten. The bus ride. Apparently, it was too loud. 

Maybe that’s one of the reasons I never panicked about my son starting school this year—he wouldn’t be riding the bus. We live a few blocks from his elementary school, so we’re part of the horde of kids and parents that pound the sidewalks on their way to school each morning.

I’d like to see an aerial shot–I’m guessing it looks like a swarm of ants coming from all directions to gather around a stray cracker crumb. I love this morning routine. There’s an irresistible sense of community when parents walk their kids to school and linger for a few moments to catch up with neighbors before heading to work. 

There’s something special about a neighborhood school. And there’s something extra special about the kindergarten teachers.

To all my Catholic friends, I apologize in advance for any forthcoming irreverence. But I’m convinced all kindergarten teachers (and while we’re at it, let’s say preschool teachers, too) must qualify for sainthood. 

Qualifications of Sainthood

I did some light Googling, and it looks like in order to become a saint, a person must “exhibit heroic levels of virtue” and perform at least two miracles. Without thinking twice, I know kindergarten teachers are obvious candidates. 

Heroic Levels of Virtue

I assume teaching kindergartners is a lot like training squirrels. There’s no rhyme or reason for the bizarre movements and imaginations of most five-year-olds. 

It’s like when you’re driving down the road and a squirrel runs out in front of you, and then you watch it dart back and forth, pausing for a moment before escaping the clutches of danger at the very last second. In my experience, kindergartners are a lot like that. Their daily ridiculousness makes no speck of sense, and it’s a wonder they’re still alive at the end of the day.

Training a pack of squirrels takes Grand Canyon depths of patience. The sheer amount of repetition these teachers must endure each day is unmatched. The thought of it is enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. Teaching kids how to “do” school is tedious and tiresome. 

Please wait your turn. Keep your hands to yourself. Inside voices. Quiet feet. Raise your hand. Don’t kick the person in front of you. Don’t put your hands down your pants. And on and on and on for eternity.

When I was a teacher, one of my favorite sights was catching the kindergarten classes walking down the hall during the first week of school. These kids are utterly incapable of walking like normal humans yet. 

Their bodies are spontaneously possessed with wiggles, and for absolutely no reason at all, one kid will do a half-cartwheel while another kid does the chicken dance. Even the most restrained kid will sneak in a few wiggly dance moves before hopping back into the rhythm of the line. 

It’s a joy to watch until the cartwheeler kicks the chicken dancer in the face and the entire line melts down like a popsicle puddle. There’s no coming back from that. And yet, every single time, the kindergarten teacher works her magic, and the line is moving and the children are bobbing down the hallway once again.

We don’t pay these miracle workers enough.

The Miracles

There’s no end to the number of miracles kindergarten teachers perform in a week, let alone a whole year. We’re eight days into the school year, and I’m in constant awe of my son’s teacher and his school. 

Fighting Germs

When I was a sixth grade teacher, I rounded the corner into a stairwell and watched a kindergartner bound down the stairs, licking the entire length of the handrail before he looked up and saw the horror on my face. Just replaying it in my mind makes me want to gag. 

Because five-years-olds have a limited awareness of personal space, these teachers are getting blasted with a cocktail of germs straight in the face by dozens of students. So in addition to teaching reading, writing, and math, these grown-ups are tasked with reinforcing appropriate etiquette for coughing, sneezing, and dealing with boogers. 

No amount of weapons-grade hand sanitizer is going to save our teachers from the germs they’ll face this year. God bless their immune systems. 

Inspiring a Love of Learning

When I think of the daily challenges kindergarten teachers face, it’s a wonder anything gets done. And yet, somehow a miracle of all miracles happens in kindergarten. Kids learn how to read.

Somehow, black and white shapes and symbols turn into meaning, and stories come to life. The whole world opens up for these kids because of their kindergarten teachers. 

I can only describe the process as magical. And yes, some kids learn to read earlier or later than kindergarten, but whenever it happens, it’s an incredible, beautiful phenomenon. 

Some of these kids get their very first chance to fall in love with learning. And having a good teacher can make all the difference.

Our son wishes he could go to school every single day. That, my friends, is all I want for my kids’ education–to love learning so much they never want it to end. 

Thank you, to all of the teachers out there. You are working miracles every single day. And I am so grateful for the influence you have on the kids in your classes and the impact it has on whole communities. You will never know the depth of your influence. I hope you have a wonderful year that’s full of patience and miracles and hand sanitizer. You are a gift to all of us.