Budget. Cuts. Suck.

You know, I have the greatest respect for all teachers. Not least because I am one, honestly. I know how hard every teacher in every discipline works. 8:00-3:00? Please. Those are just the hours I work in public. And this is equally true for most of the teachers I know.

Here's a little thought to chew on: good teachers make all other professions possible. I would love to be able to take credit for that little bit of succinct brilliance, but I can't. I can, however, say I know it to be absolutely true.

Seriously. Good luck getting your doctorate in biochemical engineering if you can't read. Drop me an email and let me know how that works out for you. Oh, wait...

This doesn't mean I don't have great respect for all other professions. I will go to sleep blessing my dentist tonight. I will wake up tomorrow and bless the seriously awesome people who will pick up my trash. I will go to sleep tomorrow night thinking loving thoughts about the woman who mans the desk at my sleepy little public library. And I won't get myself started on firemen and women, police, and everyone else who puts their lives on the line to make mine safer.

But the thing is, these people usually got where they are because somewhere along the way a teacher sparked an interest in them that led them to their ideal place in life. Really, I didn't realize how true this was until someone asked me when I decided what I wanted to do with my life.

"Third grade and junior year, respectively."

I knew I was going to be a writer when my third grade teacher took me quietly aside during Open House and asked to speak with my parents. She told them I had a real talent for writing and voice that made readers feel like I was their friend. I had the greatest respect for Mrs. Grim and I decided if she thought I could be a writer, then I would work my ass off to do so. It was lucky that writing was already one of my favorite things to do.

It wasn't until my junior year of high school that I decided I would be a teacher. By that time I was world-wise enough to know I'd need a job to support myself while I worked to become a writer. Mrs. Lewis--who is simultaneously the most engaging and terrifying teacher I've ever had--was the first person to tell me "Yeah, you're a good writer. You could be a hell of a lot better, though." She was right. So I became a writing specialist to improve my own writing and to do the same for every kid who walks through my polka-dotted door and sits against the backdrop of my wall of literary quotes.

So it was a teacher who inspired me to write and a teacher who inspired me to write better--and to inspire young minds to do the same.

And you know what? I'm damn good at both. Not because I'm brilliant or anything. Because I will still work my ass off to be good at both of the professions I've chosen.

Now, though. Now I look at my pink slip and wonder what I could have done differently. Maybe nothing, honestly. I've got principals and teachers and students who are fighting to bring me back next year. Not because I'm soooo awesome. But, again, because I work my ass off.

I realize, at this point in the post, I should have no ass at all.

*Checks* Still there. So I guess I'm not done yet.