Dear Jordan

Dear Jordan,

I know you think of me as your “second Mom,” and I’m not sure how I ever landed in that role. I never intended to be anyone’s mother; I don’t envision motherhood in my future. But I guess you’ve seen many things in me over the past few years that I’ve never been able to see in myself. You make me a better person and teacher because I have to live up to what you already think I am.

I didn't like you at first, but you knew that already. You didn’t listen and you blurted out all the time and I sent you in the hall during the first week of school in your seventh grade year. You were a top student and a hard worker, but we butted heads and you rubbed me the wrong way. It’s okay; I’m hard to please.

When you came back as an 8th grader, things changed. I share more of myself with students in their second year, and you realized we were more alike than you’d previously thought. Maybe I always knew we were alike, and I was scared to see those parts of me reflected back. We’re both searching for mothers to love and accept us, and we both can’t quite stop from wanting that connection. We both don’t like what we see when we look in the mirror. We both would rather read and write and daydream than live in the real world.

Our personalities are also incredibly different. You spend volunteer hours trying to organize my classroom, and I can see the vein pulse in your forehead when you drop by to visit and see the hurricane wreckage of my desk. You love to get involved and spend time around others, and I’m just learning how to do that as an adult. You are organized and dependable and you take charge. Sometimes I wonder why you look up to me so much. You can juggle more than I can, even though you are half my age.

I know I’m probably not supposed to say this, because you are a student and I am your former teacher, but you are special to me. You are someone that I hope can be my friend someday, instead of just teacher and student. I am your second mom, but you were the first student who has been anything near my “daughter.”  I can’t wait to see you grow into the amazing person I know you will be someday. I am filled with pride that I have had a tiny part in forming who that person ends up to be.

Thank you for not giving up on me just because you moved on to the high school and left me behind. Thank you for being the president of my unofficial fan club and the person who has so often made me realize that what I do matters. Thank you for being you.

With Much Love,

Hauptsteen

Missy Springsteen-Haupt cannot seem to decide which of her three last name combinations she likes best on any given day. She is an expert in the art of awkward writing and has never met a run-on sentence she doesn't like. She blogs at themrshauptsteen.weebly.com.