The Valley Below

Eighth Grade was a terrible year for me.

I guess that’s why I had a lot of patience at my first full-time teaching job at a private school in Western North Carolina. I was assigned to teach Language Arts in Grades 7 – 9. And I remembered my own adolescent struggles.

The rural mountain community was heaven to me, with or without a job. I was married at the time and lived in a small cabin on a mountainside with my husband and two dogs. It was especially heaven in Autumn. And not just because of the spectacular color that drew so many tourists and photographers.

It was the air.

Clean, crisp, cool mountain air.

Most early mornings I could breathe it in on the front porch, overlooking the valley below.

I’d sit on the porch with a hot cup of coffee and never tire of the view. The golden retrievers’ favorite spot to lounge was atop the picnic table.

I’d never been a full-time school teacher, and was very nervous about it. But I kept thinking about my own middle- school years and decided I would do my best to make it a good year by focusing on positive reinforcement; and be sincere about it.

I had been told reading & writing was not their forte.

There’s lots I could write about that year, but I especially remember how fun it was to plan a morning class at a local coffee shop. I’d explained to my 8th graders that we’d do what writers do: we write, we meet, we talk, we encourage, we critique, and coffee was often involved.

And that’s what we did; nothing could please a teacher more than watching those kids, with all different skill levels, tell each other what they liked about their fellow students’ efforts.

It was definitely a highlight of my work as a teacher in the valley below.