As a teacher, there are moments when you realize the lessons you're teaching are sinking in. And then there are moments when those lessons hit you like a ton of bricks—while you're sitting at the lunch table, trying to enjoy a peaceful moment of silence (well, as peaceful as lunchtime can get).
Let me set the scene:
It's a typical lunch break. I'm sitting with a few of my students, half-heartedly picking at my sandwich while their chatter fills the air. I glance down at my sweatshirt. But this wasn’t just any sweatshirt. It features books stacked in the shape of a Christmas tree with the caption "All Booked for Christmas"—a design that’s both adorable and educational. One of my absolute favorites!
And that's when it happened.
One of my students, with the most serious face imaginable, suddenly stops mid-conversation, looks me dead in the eye, and then, without missing a beat, glances at my sweatshirt. She narrows her eyes, leans forward, and delivers the line that will live on in my teaching career forever:
“We don’t do that to books.”
My eyes widen as the full weight of the moment hits me. I slowly realize that I am now the proud recipient of an unsolicited, perfectly timed, book-related lecture from my own student. And then—because she’s clearly channeling all the sass of a seasoned eye-roller—she rolls her eyes so dramatically it could've been part of an Olympic event.
And there it is—the moral of the story.
I have done my job.
This year, I have successfully taught my students how to treat books with the care and respect they deserve. From the very first day, we’ve discussed how books are treasures, not toys, and that they deserve to be handled gently. They’ve learned not to bend pages, dog-ear corners, or—heaven forbid—use books as makeshift platforms for their milk cartons..
And now, apparently, they’ve internalized these lessons so well that they can recognize when something might be un-bookworthyfrom a mile away. And correct even their teacher, when they see a violation.
It’s a proud moment for me. As a teacher, I’m always thrilled when the lessons stick. But I don’t think I could have asked for a more hilarious or satisfying reinforcement of this one.
So, to my little book critic:
Thank you for your dedication to book preservation. I’m glad to see that not only are you holding yourselves to high standards, but you’re also keeping me accountable, too. Let’s just hope I can keep up the good work for the rest of the year!
Next time you see me at the lunch table, I’ll be sure to remember: my sweatshirt is for wearing—not for doing that to books.
...Lesson learned.
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