Oprah, Oprah, Oprah

**Fair warning. I just watched an entire episode of Oprah. There will be emotional manipulation in the post ahead. It can't be avoided after a thing like that.

I'll confess. I'm tired of hearing about Oprah. I took a class on reading practices this winter, and it felt like all we talked (or read) about was Oprah! Seriously, she was everywhere. When we read about race, she was there. When we read about book clubs, she was there (and was she ever!). When we read about digital reading practices, she was there. It got to the point that I began writing snarky marginal notes every time I saw her name. I'm not her biggest fan. I can't deny that she has done some really nice things for people, and I appreciate her generosity. However, I feel like Oprah pretty much worships Oprah, and that disturbs me.

But.

I watched her finale special today and something caught my attention, amongst all the Oprah-love that was the program. Near the end, Oprah called attention to her 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Duncan. She spoke of how Mrs. Duncan validated her--a little girl who felt unloved. She spoke of passing out graham crackers and of being the devotion leader. Many, many years later, after all the awards and accolades, this woman remembers the teacher who made her feel special. I was thinking about what Mrs. Duncan must be thinking, and then Oprah pointed her out in the audience. She was frail and a little stooped, but dressed and groomed so nicely. She smiled and waved when Oprah pointed her out, and I burst into tears.

Yes, I've been a little emotionally raw lately, but Oprah finally did something for me. She validated me by pointing out the teacher who changed her. You see, those were the kids I always felt drawn to. Maybe I'm just selfish, but the gravity of those solemn children pulled me in. They acted out, or they didn't do their work, or they performed like their lives depended on it, but my gift was seeing the cry for validation deep in their eyes. Sure, I can disseminate knowledge, but it's the connection with my students that keeps me going back for more. Let's face it, it's not the pay! I couldn't always give them the validation they needed, and my own flaws sometimes interfered, but if I touched just one child the way Mrs. Duncan touched that little girl in Mississippi, then I lived my calling. I don't expect that I will be sitting on national TV as a shriveled old lady (I don't want to even think about how short I'll be once the osteoporosis sets in), but just realizing that I may have touched greatness is enough for me.

I'm still a teacher, at heart, and I hope I'll continue to make connections with my students. I felt like there were a couple of students this year whose first year of college I made easier. I don't know for sure. I may never know that. I just have to trust in the calling I've been given.