Some days

Some days, you come in to your office.

The office that you have to unpack because

you had to pack it all up so the carpets could be cleaned

after a pipe burst and demolished some of your hooked rugs

and your child's portfolios from preschool with mold

and the buildings people acted like you are insane for even being upset

because why did you have anything of value in your office anyway

and you are just so over it.

You walk up to your door and see this sitting in your mailbox:



Puzzled, you open it.

And find this:

A note from each of the students who are about to go student teach this fall.

You cry a little.

And you realize why you do all of this.