I did not love school as a child.  I went.  Did my work.  Spent time with my friends.  Followed the directions and did my homework, mostly.  I did not hate school as a child.  It simply didn’t have enough significance for me to garner much of my emotion.  School was something you did, not something you loved.

Yet, as a teacher, I love school.  I love the feeling of coming into my classroom in the early morning hush waiting for the students to fill it.  I love the deserted hallways after the last bell has rung and the remnants of forgotten pencils remind us that the kids were just here.  I love the ideas.  I love the creativity.  The freshly sharpened pencils, the unused pens, the brand new books that are crying out to be read.   The camaraderie that exists in my school, the stories that are shared, the…