day 188: two words seldom said

Two days before school started, all our teachers gathered for a day of professional development.

One activity required this: half the group sat in a circle, eyes closed. People in the other half stood behind one of the people sitting in the circle. Each standing person had to think of something that they wish someone would've told them more during their childhood. Then, one by one, each standing person whispered that thing to the person in front of them, and then moved on to the next person, telling them the same thing, and repeating, until they made their way around the entire circle. It felt quite awkward being that person standing, sharing those words. It was even weirder when I heard most everyone else repeating my same words. "Good job."

(reader's note: if you knew me as a child, don't get all bent out of shape and compose an angry email to me, saying you gave me words of congratulations and appreciation way back then. I know people did. but it's quite possible, during the foreboding teenage years, that the negative outweighs the positive.)

And then, the teachers had to switch roles. The people who were sitting swapped places with those standing, and the process was repeated. Again, an overwhelming number of people stole my phrase. "Good job," was whispered in my ear over and over, and it brought tears to my eyes.

That simple activity formed one of my own goals for the year. How often, even as a teacher, do I neglect to tell my students that they did a good job? That I noticed how hard they've been working? That I've taken note of how much they've improved? Of how much I appreciate them? I may be okay at it, but I can sure do better.

Then came today. A day when I kept finding that there was some osmosis going on between my mood/general attitude and the weather. It way gray and rainy the entire day (good for the grass, not for my outlook). A day when I felt just dragged down. If I smiled, it was forced. I even had a piece of frosting-laden cake at lunch. It was just that day.

Fast forward to home. General rushed procedures......backpacks, homework, messages on the answering machine, snacks, etc. Then there was the large manilla envelope in the day's stack of mail. Military return address. Not uncommon. But what was inside simply made my day.

It was a "good job", just for me. From Aaron's Company Commander and his Company First Sergeant. Just for me. I've never received something like this before from the Marine Corps. (Cause you know, the Marine Corps doesn't issue wives.) Yes, I know all the wives got these. Yet it's the fact that they were typed, printed, signed, and mailed. The fact that someone took notice and said, "Job well done." It was the fact that I wasn't even waiting for hearing words of appreciation for a job that you just do, no choice in the matter, day in and day out.

If you see me carrying around this piece of paper, protected in its plastic sleeve, in the days to come, don't be alarmed. I'm awfully proud of it. It just might get me through the remaining days (not that I'm counting them. yet. but I could.)