Daughters Marching

Those little girls I used to teach have grown up.

From me they begrudgingly learned about the Great World Wars, latitude and longitude, the capital of French Guiana, how to take notes while listening to the teacher speak, and the lunacy of Henry VIII.

Do all kids innately detest Social Studies? If they hated it when they came to my class, I think they left liking it, just a bit.

I miss those days--those pre-9/11 days when we viewed and lived in the world differently. I miss sharing funny stories with my class; I miss clutching the podium while standing before them, wanting to shout to the rooftops, encouraging them to change the world with their words and actions, to not miss opportunities to learn, to travel, to experience.

I've already attended the wedding of one of my special girls from those days long gone. I'm invited to another wedding this summer in Beirut, Lebanon. Another one of them is landing in Amman tonight, and I can't wait to see her. I used to sit and grade their reports, correct their ESL spelling and grammar tendencies, and think, "What is going to become of them?" By the grace of God, they have come into their own, found their ways, made their marks, marched on.

I have three biological daughters but I had many, many more back there, in that little school I poured my heart into. I still have the trophy they gave me when I left the school, the one that reads, "You have taught us more than you will ever know."

The same goes for you all, my daughters.