Full heart

“That’s not what I meant,” Jane replied after the class burst into laughter. It was a simple comment on a very warm spring day. All she had said was, “You look really hot”. The class had just come in after lunch; it was a very innocent comment. 12 year olds are masters of the double entendre.

Teaching middle school was rewarding but you had to know how to manage the cheekiness, the energy (or lack of energy), and the parents. She was the favourite in the school, strict but fun, she loved to joke around, yet she held exceptionally high standards—something parents appreciated and students respected. It was a fine balance but Jane had the magic, and was a natural.

This year’s class was bright, she was proud of how their work had shown significant improvements from the early days of September. No two years were ever the same, and neither were the students who filled them. Jane had a gift for teaching — endlessly curious, always probing for deeper understanding — and the moment she uncovered an insight, she was eager to share it with her students. Her enthusiasm was contagious, even the die hard I hate school kids loved being in her class. She could draw them in with a simple tale, the latest being the morning activities of a spider that had spun its web just outside her back door. “Is the spider still there?” “ Has it caught any flies?” “Can you take a picture?” She was excited about the spider, so they were excited about the spider. They demanded a spider update every morning.

When you are in Grade 6-9, wearing a hoodie everyday was non‑negotiable—it was part of the uniform, no matter the weather. Over sweatpants or leggings, even over a dress or skirt, it was the norm. Pretty much everyone either wore runners, usually white and cleaned every day, or some kind of athletic with or without socks.

The jocks, the nerds, the mean girls, they were there but those labels faded quickly. This teacher had a gift for turning a room full of opposites into a group that actually cared. It took some time but, by November, they were a cohesive group.

The staff was another story. It was mostly a revolving door, but there were a few that had been there for years. Mrs Hall, in the classroom next door, could not throw anything away so had a room filled with anything you could think of - piles of books everywhere, an exercise bike, old magazines, boxes piled in the corner, and even an old fish tank covered in green algae. Barely any room for desks, she called her room a gong show, but couldn’t bring herself to throw anything out. After over 20 years at the school, Lois Hall knew the place inside out—right down to the photocopier’s quirks and the secret techniques for managing the perpetually grumpy secretary.

Clara Bell had been there forever, and she was the biggest gossip in the place. She was super friendly, almost too much, and you could always sense how fake it was. Clara would pile on the compliments then, when you left, she would talk about you. She was the candy queen at school, her class was always munching on something sweet. Jane avoided her at all costs.

Miss Smith taught down the hall but no one really knew her. She kept to herself, didn’t say much and always had a smile on her face. Jane wondered about her and tried to strike up a conversation here and there but Miss Smith just smiled and walked away. She gave off a pretty calm vibe, but was definitely a mystery.

There were a few young teachers at the school, they were inexperienced and relied on the more senior teachers for daily advice. Learning on the fly, they were exhausted by the end of the day. Learning on the fly because no two days were alike and you had to pivot numerous times throughout the day. Never a dull moment in the classroom.

Sarah was the admin assistant, she didn’t like the word secretary. To be fair, she did so much, the administrator definitely wouldn’t be able to do her job without Sarah’s help. Sometimes she seemed to do more than the actual administrator, staying long after everyone had left. She was just so difficult to deal with. A rude comment here, a (verbal) personal attack there - it was not great. The teaching staff would avoid going into the office if she was there.

Jane mostly enjoyed the people she worked with, chatting in the staffroom, collaborating on lessons and the end‑of‑day venting sessions that had become a kind of therapy. After the final bell, her room was often filled with teachers swapping funny stories or unloading frustrations about parents or the administration.

Jane was single, lived alone and was mostly an introvert, except when she wasn’t. She could charm anyone and was a very gifted small talker but, when her social battery ran out, she needed her alone time.

If you asked her what she loved most about her job she would say, “The kids.” In a room of 30, there were pretty much 30 different personalities, and definitely 30 different stories. She connected with every one of them, thanks to her innate ability to relate to young people. At 3:00, when the bell rang, no one was in a rush to leave.

They fed her soul, her heart was full. Not that the days were easy, kids will be kids and kids that age were very hormonal, constantly testing their boundaries; she handled it with grace and humour, but above all, with respect. Respect for each one of her students - that, she believed, was the key.

Although she went home to an empty apartment every day, she never felt alone. Those kids kept her company - the interactions throughout the day, planning for the next lessons, there was always something to keep her busy. She felt like they were her family, she truly loved them.