A tiny hand reaches to cling to our own when we’re tired,
at the end of the day.
Their trusting eyes watch us as we teach every lesson,
even if they don’t seem to hear what we say.

We’ve so much to show them—things that they must know…
we think we can’t get it all in.
Then just when we’ve come to the end of our rope,
we’re hit with that contagious grin.

Each child has their own unique things to offer—
expressed in a plethora of ways.
We try to seek how to reach all their needs,
though it may take to the end of our days.

We want them to succeed—
we want them to grow to be strong citizens for the good.
We work and we strive, and we cry and we hope that they’ll be everything that they could.

Then comes the day when they’re children no more. 
One more hug and they walk out the door.
Did we do all we could?  Are they ready for this? 
Will their innocence exist any more?

What a privilege exists in the job that we do—
to shape lives as their dreams are unfurled.
When the work seems too great, we are handed that
card that reads “You’re the best teacher in the world!”

Do you question your efforts?  Did you do any good—
midst the tears, and the toil and the strife?
You’ll know when that grown child returns and says,
“You are the on that made a difference in my life.”

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