Love, actually, is all around.

And sometimes love is tough.
I love my job. I can't say it enough. I feel incredibly blessed and honored to spend my working days reading my favorite pieces of literature and then forcing other people to talk to me about them. It's a sweet life.
Along with that, however, comes an aspect of the job that many people fail to remember, understand, or appreciate. It's the part that makes me say no when kids ask:
Can we just abbreviate Alabama with AL?
Do we have to write in cursive?
Can't we just have Free Speech Friday today? (On Fridays, the kids get five to ten minutes as a group to tell me what's going on in their lives, etc.)
Why do I say no? Do I fail to understand that it's much easier to write AL than Alabama? What's wrong with a little free time? Do I think Satan writes in print? No, but I do understand that laziness has to be squelched out of the hearts of these precious, sweet children. The part of my job many people don't like is the occupation of character building.
To be honest, I hate it too. I don't like policing their conversations for gossip and inappropriate language. I don't like carefully checking their work for thoroughness. And I hate having to ask a student to read out loud so I can stare down the miscreant who has chosen to talk to his or her neighbor instead of listening to me read. I'd rather just be their friend.
But I have come to understand that because I love these wonderful creatures, because I know that they are insanely smart and beautiful and gifted and lovely, I cannot allow them to waste their potential or slack off on their responsibilities just because I want to be well-liked. That would be awfully selfish of me. They have to understand that their intelligence is a gift, their beauty a liability, their gifts an investment, and their loveliness, a choice. I have to expect the best in them.
I tell them all I love them every day. And that is no stretch. I can't wait to share them with the world, for them to take the reigns of adult responsibilities and scatter their talents among mankind. My seventh graders are translating The Aeneid from Latin to English. My ninth graders are analyzing Julius Caesar as they read the biography from which Shakespeare created the play. These children have been given the opportunity to be great, and great will they be.
I can't wait. Love them so much!