Just like Dad

I can vividly remember coming close the culmination of my high school years and thinking, "I don't ever want to be a teacher like my father!" Of course, irony has a way of making the inevitable happen. I was teaching a math lesson today to my fifth grade students when I looked down and noticed that my hands were covered in the blues, blacks, reds, and greens of the vis-a-vis markers I was using. I instantly was brought back to that final year of high school when I noticed that my fathers hands, the hands of a skilled mathematics teacher at my highschool, were covered with the same blues, blacks, reds, and greens. Instead of what may have been mild disgust, I now looked back and admired the ink stained hands of my father.