Perfect Surprise

One of the hardest things about being a teacher is coming to the realization that you can only do so much.  As a Montessori teacher, I think that it can be even more difficult to realize this.  When you go through Montessori training, you are taught that one of the major purposes of your work with children is to create world peace through your guidance of young ones in their most formative years.

Seriously.  World peace.

Maria Montessori herself once said:

"Establishing lasting peace is the work of education.  All politics can do is keep us out of war."

And:

"If help and salvation are to come, they can only come from the children, for the children are the makers of men."

That is a pretty big undertaking.  A very big, very spiritually demanding, often completely unrecognized part of the job.  Not only do I spend my days teaching twenty children reading, writing, and math through individual lessons, I am also helping them develop their self-confidence, conflict resolution skills, and overall sense of who they are and who they can be in the world.  I'm developing twenty little people.

No wonder we teachers come home so exhausted.

This week was one of those weeks where I felt like I will never be good enough.  I will never be able to do enough.  I will never be able to make enough of a difference.  Very discouraging indeed.

The Sous Chef knew how hard this week was for me.  He kept telling me to stay strong, that I am a wonderful teacher, that my students love me, and that I'm having an impact on them, even if I can't see it right now.

And then, when I came home last night, depressed, discouraged, and vulnerable, I walked in to find this:

The Sous Chef had gone all out.  Knowing how Christmas always makes me smile, he plugged in some colorful goodness and turned up some holiday jazz.  He moved our dining room table out into the open space of our living room.  A glass of American Honey was waiting for me at my place.

The best part: he took a harvest from his garden and turned it into a hearty, heartfelt "I love you" statement.  Fresh broccoli became a creamy soup.  Watermelon radishes garnished a salad made up of freshly-picked greens.

The Sous Chef even had a plan to distract the cats, who typically like to jump on our laps/the table while we're trying to eat:

It was so exactly what I needed.  In the span of five seconds, my entire work week melted away and I was totally and completely in the present moment: loving my home, my husband, and my kitty-kids.

All of this love even spilled over into this morning's breakfast:

Thanks, Sous Chef - I am the luckiest teacher-by-day blogger-by-night in the world.