THE FIRST DAY

Dear Spike:

Your mother came home from work today smiling.

This is not altogether unusual, except for one thing: Today was the first day of school — and your mom always comes home from the first day of school in tears.

You see, she cares — deeply, passionately, obsessively — about her students. And on the first day of the year she gets to know them all — the homeless, the war refugees, the undocumented immigrants, the ones that can't speak a lick of English, the ones whose parents have never bothered to read to them, the ones who don't know red from blue, the ones who can't write their first name and don't even know their last name.

Of course, even when she was teaching in the suburbs, she'd come home in tears. She would see road ahead (no matter where you teach, it's long and bumpy and has more than a few dangerous curves) and simply feel overwhelmed at the impending journey.

Something changed this year, though. All of those challenges are still there, but something about your mom is different. She's more confident. She's less afraid.

I'm sure that, in part, it is because last year was such a challenging year — a new school in the inner-city, with a class seemingly hand-picked to drive her out of the business. Despite the challenges, she succeeded. No, she thrived.

And in part, I think it's you. She still cares — deeply, passionately, obsessively. But she also knows that at the end of the day — even the first day — you'll be waiting at home to give her a hug and to tell her that you love her.

And who wouldn't smile about that?

Love,
dad