When our middle son, Carter, was an 8th-grade student during the 2016-2017 school year, I had an idea of writing a note to each and every student that was in my class. There were about 200-220 8th graders that year.

Many of the students who come through my classroom are carrying the heavy, heavy baggage of problems at home, with families, and with friends. They have broken homes, unemployed parents, family members in trouble, abusive relationships and more. So I took it upon myself to be their “school mom” and give each 8th grader some motherly advice before they head out to the High School.

I try to make each note personal. There are some lines that are my “go-to” lines and some of the students have picked them out when they read them next to each other. “She said the same thing to you too!!” But I mean every word I say in those notes. My heart is on that little notecard.

I have continued that tradition each and every quarter, each and every year all through May 2019. Last year was a tough one for me. I passed out the notes to each and every 8th-grade student including our youngest son, Chris. After each 8th-grade class left my room I found many of my precious notes at the bottom of my trash can. Some were even torn up. It felt as though those students ripped up my heart and threw it away even though I knew it wasn’t the case.

Over the summer I decided I wasn’t going to do the 8th-grade cards anymore. I wasn’t going to spend countless hours crafting and writing by hand words of wisdom and love to students who didn’t want them. I have stayed true to my decision this year.

Then, as if God was sending little angels to me, I had older students come up to me saying that they still have the notes I wrote to them. Really?!? I would ask them where they keep it and many say on their bulletin board or mirror in their rooms. Wow! I couldn’t believe it.

The one that really got to me though was our son, Chris. I was talking to him about not writing the notecards anymore and he said, “I keep mine in my helmet when I’m playing football.” I asked him, “Why there?” He said to me, “It’s like you are there with me on the field. Encouraging me.” Tears began to well up in my eyes.

It was that moment when I realized that I need to continue my tradition of writing the notecards to my 8th-grade kiddos. I may not reach all of the student’s hearts, I may not change the hearts that have hardened because of their circumstances, but I sure can reach the ones that do care.

I have a lot of catching up writing to do……….