Beyond the Classroom Walls

This is my second Teachers' Month in this school, but it still feels different—not because the celebration is new, but because I’m no longer a teacher. Now, I serve as a counselor, guiding students in ways that don’t involve chalkboards or lesson plans. I sit quietly during the celebrations, no longer receiving cards or greetings from classes I once stood in front of.

I think back to my teaching years, to the high school and college classrooms where I spent so much of my life. I remember students walking in with questions and dreams, the long hours spent preparing lessons, and the joy of watching young adults find their voice and confidence. Teachers' Month back then was full of surprises: handwritten notes, flowers from students who were taller than me, and laughter that carried through hallways. It wasn’t about recognition - it was about connection.

Now, I watch from a distance. I see my colleagues celebrated and honored, and I’m genuinely happy for them - they deserve every bit of love. But there’s still a quiet ache, a nostalgia for those days when I was in their place, shaping lives not just through guidance but through teaching itself.

Yet even in this new role, I’ve realized that a teacher’s heart never truly leaves the classroom. I may no longer hold a marker or a lesson plan, but I carry with me the faces and stories of every student I once taught - the high schoolers who grew into confident adults, the college students who chased their dreams. They are etched in my memory like chalk on a well-worn board, smudged by time but never erased.

So this Teachers' Month, I celebrate in silence - not for myself, but for all the educators who continue to light the way. And in my heart, I whisper a quiet thank you to the students who made me a teacher in the first place. Because no matter how my title has changed, I’ll always be one thing at my core: a teacher.

Once a teacher, always a teacher. And some parts of the heart, once filled, can never be emptied.