Summer’s here, which for many educators means finding time to relax, catching up on sleep, and maybe even having a garage sale.  

Last week, against my better judgment, I decided to participate in the neighborhood sell-off.  I forgot how much work it takes to get ready for one of these things.  Decision fatigue quickly set in as I tried to decide what to let go.  I started in the basement sifting and sorting what to purge.  My pragmatic side kicked in, wondering if my kids could use it?  My sentimental side also weighed in.  Will the ghost of long gone great Grandma Simone care if I sell her hand-tatted pillowcases, dollies, and baby booties for a dollar?  Would these handmade remnants of the past, that filled a much needed cedar chest be worth getting rid of? 

It all became too much, so I headed upstairs to tackle the linen closet.

Camouflaged among the shelves of old sheets, blankets, and giant school bags is a 4’ X 1’ cabinet filled with jewelry given to me by grandmas, aunties, friends, and students.  Some are keepsakes, most are not.  I haven’t dug into that thing for years and thought, maybe clearly the Alex and Ani bracelets still on the Nordstrom cards, would give me space to put the jewelry I actually wore away.  After collecting a nice stash of stuff to sell, I randomly pull out the last drawer of the cabinet and see the corners of a large manila envelope smothered by costume jewelry.  Wedging the envelope out, I wonder why I stuck it there.  I can tell when I pick it up there is something inside besides paper.  Unbending the clasp to open the flap, I see a box, a printed email, and an old photograph.  

Grabbing the box first, I lift the lid and notice a torn scrap of paper and a beaded purple necklace resting on the cotton square lining the box.  The beaded necklace looks vaguely familiar and clearly made by an amateur.  I read the scrawled handwriting and start to remember:  

Dear Miss Tovani,

My mom makes necklaces and she helped me make one for you.  It’s not very good but I think you will like it.  Thank you for helping me read.  I don’t hate it as much as I used to.  I hope you have a nice Christmas.  

See you in January,

Jose

Jose’s beads.  

I put on the necklace and clutch the faded note.  I start to remember. Why would I stow this precious gift in an envelope and shove it to the back of the drawer? Why didn’t I wear those beads?  It was a tough year.  Jose told me that he hated to read and write and probably wasn’t going to do a lot of it. There were a lot of kids that came to class that first day thinking the same thing.  He was the only one brave enough to say it. Had I worn Jose’s gift,  it would have energized and reminded me that it wasn’t too late to help a kid hate reading a little less. 

Next, I open up the folded email, wondering what other treasure I’ve stashed away only to be forgotten.  The email is from a grown up Mallorie.  I remember her immediately.  At the time, she was going through her “I hate everything about the world” stage.  She came to First Hour every day grumpy, sullen, and posturing herself for a fight–until we touched base.  It only took a minute at the start of class to ask her what she needed for the day.  Was it a pencil, time to regulate, or a breakfast bar?  Usually it was time to settle.  I learned later that homelife was pretty tough and often before leaving for school, she would have a row with her mom.  I open up the printed email and read:

Hi Ms. Tovani,

This is Mallorie.  I know you remember me.  I was going through my Goth phase and was so mean to you but you never gave up on me.  Guess what?  I have four kids now!  You used to find us the best books to read.  Do you think you can help me find some good books to read to my kids?  I live close to school and could come pick them up.”

Sincerely,

Mallorie

P.S. I’m a lot nicer now.

I knew deep down Mallorie was working hard to hold onto her “goth” facade. The truth be told, I tried very hard to make her laugh or smile.  The juxtaposition of a student wearing a dracula dress, black lipstick, and white face power giggling was something that I couldn’t resist.  

Why hadn’t I tacked her email to the bulletin board  in front of my desk to remind me that sometimes our work doesn’t show up until years later.  Why would I shove that vindicating message to the back of the drawer?

Last, is a photo.  At the center of it is a baby elephant surrounded by third graders.  A twenty-two year old me stands in the back with my hand resting on the elephant’s behind.  It was a picture of our trip to the zoo.  I was so clueless, I didn’t even worry about losing one of them. I am smiling so big you can almost feel my joy and excitement of being a brand new teacher.  

Again, why was this picture pushed to the back of the drawer and not taped on my bathroom mirror.  I could have looked at that picture everyday and reminded myself why I became a teacher.  

Teaching now seems harder than back in the day.  Those early years were so much simpler.  I couldn’t wait to get to school.  Anything and everything was possible. I’m not sure when things started to get hard.  Maybe it began when I started shoving treasures in compartments and focused solely on “raising scores” and catching up “students who were behind.”  I stopped honoring the precious gifts from real human beings and forgot that the work mattered.  

Garage sales have a funny way of making us reprioritize what we value. Not only did I clear space in the jewelry drawer but I also made room to re-see and remember. I chose this wonderful calling to be a teacher.  My new found treasures remind me we don’t always see the fruits of our labor right away.  I wonder what else I have tucked away somewhere that maybe needs a new place of honor.

We all have precious artifacts that students, parents, and colleagues have given us.  Maybe this is the summer you locate your treasures.  Find a place of honor for them.  Let them energize you.  Make it ok to clear space for your successes.  

I’d love to know what you find.  I like even more to hear the story behind the treasure.  Right now, we could all use some good energy.