Remembering to be Grateful

My first group of kids are now 7th graders. This is the first year that they’ve been at a different school. Granted, they are just next door, but I still miss them so much. I knew I would even before they left.

But they’ve steadily come back to visit. Before school and after school these kids, who are now all taller than me despite the heels I sport, would walk into my first grade classroom with hidden smiles on their faces and a quiet “Hi, Ms. Wong”. This is usually followed by me shrieking and running towards them to give them a big hug.

A couple weeks ago, Frank, came by around 5 to say hello. He found me outside of my room, updating a bulletin board. I found out from the front office that he told his grandma he would walk home because he wanted to come say hi to me. This was the same week when LA was breaking record highs.

I drove Frank home and we had a nice chat. As we drove by his old elementary school(the one he was kicked out of before coming to ours), he reflected on how much he had changed. He told me about how he didn’t care about school when he was there, but that he’s different now. I reminded him about how, in 4th grade, he told me he wanted to be a writer. He told me he still does.

After driving Frank home that evening, I thanked God for my job – I’ve had a hard time doing that this year. The job is not easy by any means, but the lives that I get to be a part of make it so worth it. I miss these kids so much, but I’m strangely glad that I do. It somehow makes me feel…alive.


On the last day of school last year, one of my 6th graders came by my classroom with her mom to give me this lego house. "It's for all the dreams you helped us build." Cheesy, but I cried anyways.