When I began teaching in 1992, I had a student I could identify with; she was new to the state of Texas, new to the school, and she felt like an outsider. Coming from Colorado to Texas, I understood how she felt. At the end of the year, she handed me a tightly folded letter, in which she detailed how she was considering suicide before I reached out to her. It was a beautiful letter, full of hope for her future, and thanks for me.
I still have that letter because, on occasion and when life is tough, I pull it out and read it. After 20 years, however, I have received cards, notes, and drawings from some of the students I've worked with, and I keep them all in my memories box. They remind me about why I teach. I don't teach because I love administering tests or even grading essays. I teach because of teenagers. I teach because they need to know they are loved and accepted for who they are, even if their hormones have made them a bit nutty.
There are many of us who have our memories: pictures, programs, signed jerseys. Our mementos remind of our purpose: to work with children and teens. To know, once, we were important in the life of a young person. My memories box is an ordinary box kept next to my desk. On occasion, I like to open it to remind myself of my purpose. My classroom has decorations from previous students, including pictures. I look at them and think how lucky I've been to have worked with some amazing people.
Another way for me to preserve memories is to keep a journal that students can sign. I don't buy yearbooks as they are too cumbersome and too expensive, but journals work well. Any student who wishes to write in it may do so. No one is penalized if they don't write in it, and I ask students who would like to tell me how much they hate me to write me a letter rather than write in my book. I keep those hate letters too, simply because I need reminders that there are students whom I did not reach. Students who left my classroom without learning much.
When working in a high stress profession such as education, I've found it important to save those mementos from former students. I have reminders of those whom I've reached or not, those who touched my life, and a small body of evidence to leave my son someday, so he knows what I actually did in my life.
Maybe it's pure vanity to keep a memories box. But in my world, it's more about preservation of sanity and a reminder of why I do what I do.
