An Ode to a Favorite Teacher

Our second oldest son is living with us for the year.  He's trying to combine paying for a new car with putting some money away--something that would have been difficult to do on his salary, when you factor in rent and all the other usual living expenses.  We were more than happy to open up the empty nest and let him live at home for a while, a temporary arrangement that benefits my husband and me as much as it does him.  (He's a hilarious guy and a devoted son, and just an all-around pleasure to have around.)

Our boy took a fifth year, after earning his undergraduate degree, in order to get his master's.  He's well-educated, extremely intelligent, and very good at what he does.  He has one of the noblest professions there is in all the world.  But his paycheck does not reflect the importance of the job he is doing every day.

Have you guessed yet that he is a teacher?  (You might already know this, because I've blogged about him before.)

Our son is in his third year of teaching math at a public high school about an hour from where we live.  He spent the first two years teaching mostly lower-level courses, endeavoring to get the kids who struggle and just don't "get" math to understand (and maybe even enjoy...sort of!) the subject matter.  He was very good at that.  This year, he's teaching honors courses, and he was concerned that because he likes making the light go on for those kids who hate and/or just can't grasp math, he might not enjoy teaching the more academically gifted kids.  But he does, and he's good at that, too.  He uses humor in his dealings with his students and they think Mr. Pearl is oh-so-funny; but at the same time, they know he's anything but a pushover and they better do the work.

I don't know if it's possible to be prouder than we are of our boy, who is dedicated to his profession vocation (and to the kids whose lives he has the ability to affect in a big way).  He knew going in that it's a tough job, one that will never make him a rich man, and he was ready for that.  But as much as he loves the career choice he's made, there are those days when the stresses mount and it's easy to think, "This job is for the birds--especially when it pays peanuts!"

And on days like that, it's sure nice to hear that what you're doing is making a difference.

Yesterday my son texted me not long after he'd arrived at school to tell me that in homeroom that morning, one of the other teachers had made his kids each write a letter to their favorite teacher.  One of the girls our son has in math class this year made him a very sweet card, and he included a couple of iPhone pictures he'd taken of it and sent them along with the text...because he knows his mom--he knows she LIVES for this stuff.  And she also lives to share it on her blog.  So I give you--drumroll, please!--this priceless ode to Mr. Pearl.  (I've scribbled the student's name out, using a handy Microsoft program called "paint"--perhaps you've heard of it?--for privacy's sake.)


Who in the world hearts math?  My son's students, that's who.



These are just the kind of words every teacher hopes to hear one day, I'm sure. 
And he's only in his third year of teaching!

Brag session over (for now).  Class dismissed.  TGIF!  Have a great weekend!