A few years ago, a student game me an African violet. It flowered for a month. Then the blooms fell off. I tended it on the kitchen counter.
A year passed.
Green leaves grew.
One day an orchid gift replaced it, and the violet was transplanted to my bedroom, next to the glass door.
Years went by, the green leaves grew, and the hope of blossoms was long forgotten. The leaves were thick. Luxurious. There was beauty in the green.
Then one day, out of nowhere, it bloomed. I had given up. I had accepted the idea that this plant wasn’t capable.
Shouting to the world with a cluster of white flowers, Here I am! Glad you’re here to see me.
You know where this is going. Those students. We see only a bit of who they are in the ten months we have them. Sometimes they are like the beautifully formed flower. A gift set at your feet. Something to admire and praise. And sometimes no matter how you care for them, you feed, make accommodations for, nurture, they stay the same. Growing in their way. They don’t seem to be capable of flowering the way the benchmarks dictate. You may say to yourself; it’s the food or the water you are giving them. Maybe it’s the light, the pot. But even with all those adjustments, there are still no blooms. No apparent results. The year finishes and you send them on, wishing them well, still looking for hints of a blossom. Then years later, if you’re lucky, when you least expect it they show up at the door, and you look on with amazement at their beauty.
Three former students showed up at my classroom door yesterday. One going into eighth grade, one to high school, one to college. All in full bloom. We talked, I admired, and each walked off giving me a hug, a take care, and “an I love you Mrs. Harmatz.” What gifts.
With those, blooms I am reminded of the need for patience and faith in who our students can be. We water and feed. If we’re lucky, we see their flowers.
Thank you, Ruth, for your Celebration This Week link up. Read more celebrations here.
To Read To Write To Be 
That’s why teachers never give up, hope springs eternally in a teacher’s heart. Beautiful reflection!
Something we teachers always need to remember! Glad you got to see three beautiful blooms! The words you gave to the flower are so great- “Glad you’re here to see me!”
A lovely celebration reflecting on watching your students bloom.
I wish this was written in all school handbooks: The benchmarks can’t dictate the way students flower. Be patient.
I am happy that you saw both the flower and your students bloom.
YOU – and the way you see the students you serve are exactly what we need in this wonderful world. Thank you for seeing them blooms and for continually working to encourage them to flower!
Such a valuable reminder at this time of year! Love it!
This piece is a beautifully carried metaphor to the very realization that you’ve been blessed with blossoms.
“All in full bloom” Those words are . . . beyond, just beyond. Loved this post.
Beautiful. I love getting to read so many posts from teachers about how meaningful their jobs are. Thanks for sharing.
Patience, faith and lots of love! We have the best job in the world don’t we?
This is a lovely post, Julieanne. I suggest that you take your photo of the flower and these lines, “With those, blooms I am reminded of the need for patience and faith in who our students can be. We water and feed. If we’re lucky, we see their flowers,” for a spring digital inspiration. If interested in offering it to my spring gallery let me know.
It so true. But when you have touched their hearts, it leaves a seed there ready to grow and sprout in its own time. Then the blooms will appear. Whether we see them or not, we know that we have contributed.
What a beautiful post! I always cherished the times my former students showed up at the door – a lovely gift. It’s exciting to see each of them bloom in their own time and way. Sharing this with some friends!