I got home from work today around 8:10. Mr. Squire was in the kitchen, cooking up shin ramen. He had just gotten home after a particularly terrible day at school--one in which he cursed inwardly twelve times and seriously thought about quitting right then and there.
I tried to gently talk him off the ledge... remind him that if he were to quit before the school year was over, he would always regret it. He would always look upon himself with disappointment over it. He's better than that, and he knows it. I know it. He has worked so hard over the last four years, and to quit with just 14 schooldays left would be a big mistake.
What I didn't say--because he didn't need to be told--is that he cannot quit now...for the kids' sake. The average teacher lasts no more than two years at this school (the average tenure is quite a bit less), so the kids have a lot of turnover to deal with to begin with. And teachers have quit mid-year already. Mr. Squire cannot join them. He has poured out everything he has--and more, it seems--for them. Every last drop of energy goes to them and he comes home empty. He has one more thing to show them, though, before the year is out: he needs to show them what commitment looks like.
Commitment is staying for as long as you said you were going to stay, and giving it your all until you finish.
Commitment is toughing out the worst of days for the sake of the call.
Commitment is remaining, and dwelling, to the end.
This has been my battle, too. Day after day, I feel like we are fighting the devil and all the discouragement and weariness he wants to throw our way. We are so close to the end. I want to always look back and say that we fought the good fight--all the way to the finish line. We finished well.
Fourteen days left. God help us.
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