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Before the buses arrive with their cargo of dreams and drama, before the first bell splits the silence like a starting gun, I stand in the empty hallway and listen.
The building holds its breath. Lockers wait like closed books. Classroom doors stand ready, guardians of possibility.
In twenty minutes, this place will explode with life— arguments about lunch money, discoveries in science labs, the quiet triumph of a struggling reader finally getting it.
But right now, in this cathedral of learning, I make my daily promise:
Today I will see them. Not as test scores walking, not as behavior problems pending, not as data points to be managed.
Today I will see Sarah, who hides her math anxiety behind class clown antics.
Today I will see Marcus, whose anger is really grief for a father who left.
Today I will see Mrs. Johnson, twenty-seven years in the same classroom, wondering if she still makes a difference.
The buses are turning the corner now. I can hear the rumble of tomorrow mixed with the echo of yesterday.
Time to unlock the doors. Time to begin again. The ancient work of growing human beings.
Some days we teach algebra. Some days we teach kindness. Some days we teach that failure is just another word for learning.
Every day, we teach that someone believes in you.
The bell rings. Here they come.