Some of my friends have given me the nickname "recycling enthusiast".
I fully try to embrace the three R's.
Recycle. Repurpose. Reuse.
School has only been in session for one full week and two of my paper recycling bins are almost full.
One of the many things I reuse is manilla folders.
Just flip them inside out and they are as good as new.
And like other teachers, I have used some of my own things from home to stock my classroom.
One such manilla folder is on my desk.
At the back of my standing file holder.
Thursday evening as I was working after the children had left.
I walked from the back of the classroom toward my desk.
Probably after dropping paper in the recycling bin.
There I saw it.
My heart skipped a beat.
The back of the manilla folder stared at me.
Two simple words.
It was not the words that stopped me.
It was the handwriting.
Not my handwriting.
Not Mr. X's.
Handwriting is a funny thing.
It is evidence you did exist.
You are not part of my imagination.
You are not part of some dream that never happened.
Such a simple reminder.
And the cool thing.
You are there.
In my classroom.