Petunia

She has a beautifully unique name, but for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain, I called her “Petunia.” She moved in halfway through my first year of teaching with scars on her heart that I would sometimes see evidence of even if I never knew the cause. But more than any of my other third graders, she shared my sense of humor and we enjoyed playful banter during our time learning together. Her name was mentioned many times over dinner along with the other students who brought joy to my days and who made that year so special to me. At the end of the year, she wrote me a little card, in the way that third graders do sometimes, and she signed it, “Betunia,” having misunderstood my nickname for her this whole time.

She kept in touch in the years since, this beautiful flower of a child. With her easy smile and gentle heart she would stop by my classroom to say hello, share a hug and catch me up on what she was doing. Sometimes months would go by between visits, sometimes years, but I only needed to say, “Guess who stopped by today?” and my husband would know from the smile on my face that I had seen “Petunia” again.

Yesterday, she sent me another email, catching me up briefly on her life. A college senior now, majoring in a well-suited field of psychology, I have no doubt the positive impact she will have on people however she chooses to apply that degree. In her update, she shared that she had proudly bought her first car, including a picture of her beside it, and telling me that she named the car, “Betunia.”

I sobbed the entire drive home, not just for the wish that I could share that with my husband who would understand instantly what an impact this had on me, but because I’ve been searching for my “why,” searching for my purpose, searching for my reason to stay in teaching or my reason to make a change, and she just handed it to me. Again.

Maya Angelou is credited with very wisely saying, “People may forget what you say. They may forget what you do. But they will never forget how you made them feel.” As teachers, we hear this quote so often it has perhaps lost its impact. Until we turn it around and realize, it’s also how the students make us feel, too.

I don’t have to search for my “why.” I don’t have to wonder what my purpose is. Petunia is why. And every student like her. Because when we pour ourselves, exhaustively, extensively, painfully, tiringly into our students, we will, sometimes, get to see the difference all that effort made on one child’s life. And that is what keeps me teaching.