To kids, teachers are mysterious creatures.  Kids come to school and the teachers are there.  They leave school and the teachers are still there.  Many times I’ve told students that I live at school, that when bedtime rolls around, I just flatten out the risers and sleep there.  They laugh, but there’s always that slight doubting look on their face as they’re not sure if I’m kidding or not.

When students DO see us outside of the classroom, it’s as though they’ve seen an alien.  “Mrs. Bush, why are YOU here?” is usually the question.  Well, I’m shopping or getting lunch or seeing a movie. Sometimes a student spots you in public and they get shy or tug on a parent saying in a whisper voice, “mom, that’s Mrs. Bush my music teacher” or they come over and just look at you until you say something.  This usually leads to a very uncomfortable conversation where I continue to make small talk while they respond with “uh huh” and either yes or no.  It usually ends when I say something like, well, I hope you enjoy your lunch or have a great day and they walk away, occasionally looking back to make sure I’m still there I suppose.

Students especially find it fascinating that teachers go to the bathroom.  If a class shows up while I’ve dashed to the bathroom across the hall, they ask, “where were you Mrs. Bush”, to which I respond, I was in the bathroom.  To which they respond with something like – “ohhhh”.  Yesterday I walked into the bathroom in front of two girls who proceeded to wait until I was out.  There were four stalls, three not being used and yet they waited for me so they could say “hi” when I stepped out.  Reminds of when I had little guys at home, there are just more of them at school.

Today as I walked across the hall, I heard a couple of girls already in the stalls talking to each other.  Very quietly, I stepped into a stall and both girls immediately went silent.  As I did my business, one of the girls asked, “is that you?” to which the other girl answered, “no, it’s not me!”.  Then as I pulled off some toilet paper, the 2nd girl asked “is that you?”. “No”, the other girls answered.  “I think it’s Mrs. Bush”.  I started laughing and asked how they knew.  One girl said, “I saw your shoes!”.  I think that’s telling me I wear a particular pair of shoes too often.

That’s the thing about teachers.  You get to know them really well and maybe you really like them or you don’t, you’re afraid of them or you admire them.  Whether or not a child loves learning can depend completely on what kind of relationship develops between the two of them.  Part of that relationship sometimes depends on how they see you outside of school, how they see you as a real person and not just that persona of “teacher”.  Knowing you well enough that they stop you to tell you that they followed you in your car the other day as they were going to gymnastics.  Feeling comfortable enough with you to ask you how your day is going or give you a hug or stop and open the door for you.  Developing that relationship because you care and so they also care.

Tomorrow ends another week of dealing with what is really a ridiculously large family made mostly of children.  And like most moms, chances are I’ll have more interesting encounters with some of these little people at sometime tomorrow.  I’ll just hope that it’s not in the bathroom again….