Look at you! You have finished kindergarten, you are off to 1st grade, and you are most likely vacationing or splashing in splash pads all across the city. I hope you stop to read once in awhile or write in a journal (don't forget punctuation!) about your summer adventures. It's summertime - the best season in Chicago and you are at a prime age to enjoy it. You've probably forgotten all about kindergarten and you've probably forgotten all about me - but, I have not, and will not, ever forget you.
You learned so much in kindergarten. You learned how to correctly identify all 65 sight words, and you can count & write well beyond 100. You read better than even you thought you would, and you've corrected mom & dad on when to use 'an' instead of 'a' (way to go!). Each and every one of you made such amazing progress this year, and I'm immensely (that means very much so) proud of you. I look back on our days together and I smile. My heart feels happy that you learned so much and you made friendships to last a lifetime. But there are times when my heart feels sad and I get that feeling in my tummy you get when you are nervous or a little scared. Remember it's ok to feel those feelings; it's ok for me to feel those feelings, too. I want to explain to you why sometimes I feel a little sad and my tummy hurts.
Kindergarten is such an important time in your life. So many of you came straight from your comfortable home with mommy or daddy and have never been in a classroom. When you walked into your kindergarten classroom you were leaving mommy or daddy and spending seven (you should know this word, it's a 4th quarter sight word!) hours with me - your new teacher, but yet a complete stranger. It's always been my job to not only teach you your alphabet (identification & sounds), numbers 1-100, nouns, verbs, sight words, etc. but it is also my job to love you and care for you and make sure you are happy, making friends, and given one on one attention every. single. day.
I have high hopes every summer to create a classroom that makes you feel comfortable, gets you excited to learn, and makes you feel happy - your home away from home. I can do this, and I have done this.
But my tummy begins to hurt when I think back on the times when I was not able to give every single one of you one on one attention every single day of the school year. I am sorry, Alex, that I did not get to spend more time in writing workshop with you because you were a confident writer and never appeared to need my help. I'm sorry, Jane, that I did not get to work more with you in math because that was your strong area and there were six (4th quarter sight word!) other kids at your table that needed my help to understand. I wish I could have spent more time seeing how well you know your numbers and can solve math problems that second grade is working on! I'm sorry, Anna, that I could not sit down the minute you walked into the door one morning with a gleeful expression on your face and listen to you about your exciting morning when you saw a helicopter land. I got that much, but I wanted to know more - why? where? Did you feel the wind blow?!
I'm sorry I could not sit and listen to every story important to you, I could not spend more time with each of you in math, writing, or reading. It was not that I did not want to, or that I did not manage my time better to be able to. It's that there were 34 of you. Thirty four of you who needed love, attention, and my undivided attention every hour of our seven hour day. You are all unique learners and you each have different needs to reach your learning potential. I tried to help each of you reach that potential every day, but because I tried to give you individual attention, it meant some days I did not get to check in with some of you - and that is what makes my tummy hurt. I want a re-do. I want to have you all back in my room, in smaller groups, and talk to you - hear about your mornings, hear about what you did for your grandpa's birthday.
I am sorry that you did not and could not get the one on one teacher/student experience that is ideal. But you, and your education, were always the center of my attention. My wish for you next year is a smaller class size, so you can obtain the education and attention you deserve.
Thank you for being one of my thirty four, and teaching me how valuable each student is. Thank you for teaching me that I need to fight harder to keep class sizes low in kindergarten so you, and all future kindergarten students can thrive!
Love,
Mrs. Levin
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