I love my job. Anyone who knows me would agree. I am starting a new school this fall and a lot has went down this summer. Things that will tie me to my old kids for the rest of their lives and mine.
Another student of mine has passed. This makes the third of my six year teaching career and the third in a little over a year. He was in a horrific car wreck last Thursday (as seen on channel 10 and 4 and in the Dispatch) and he was killed on impact. I won't digress on what happened or the details. I also am not going to digress on how sad I am about it, that is to be expected. What I am going to do is a. discuss the impact on my kids and b. fondly describe my favorite memories of that young man.
A. my kids are a fucking wreck. I can't describe it any other way than that. It is really hard when you love your students. Good teachers are bothered by this, mediocre teachers say things like "that's so sad" and bad teachers are indifferent. I am a good teacher. My kids are like my biological kids. I laugh with them and I cry with them. I share in their joys and I share in their sorrow. It's hard to get a FB or a text or a phone call from them in which they're angry, grieving, distraught, confused....hurting. I am hurting with them. I loved him like a son. I don't know what to say to them to make it better and truthfully there is nothing else I can say. Nothing will make it better. It is my burden to bare as their teacher, their confidante. I won't lie. It is hard...hard as hell, but I wouldn't trade it for any other job because for every heart ached I share with them, I also share in their most important moments as well and that, right there, is what makes it all worth it in the end (yes, that was a long ass run on. I am fully aware).
B. OJ was a great kid. Like a son. I had him twice: sophomore and senior English. He was a funny kid and one that teachers like to have. Things I will never forget: calling OJ and Sterling Lennie and George from Of Mice and Men; OJ chasing a mouse around my room with a copy paper box trying to catch it; 7th period conference periods in which I spent less time planning lessons and more time laughing listening to the kids talk and rif on each other; him saying he was sorry for going off on me that first period; him saving the day and finding my work keys in my boxes that I packed; me telling his dad that he was going to grow up and become a good man; when he sat outside of my room and talked to me about his cousins deformed hand and reassured me that Gracyn's hand would help her be a better person; him misspelling Otterbein like Otterben on his Sr. Project Presentation board.
My conclusion: two things. 1. I am grateful having known that kid and 2. I am grateful for having known all of my kids.
A. my kids are a fucking wreck. I can't describe it any other way than that. It is really hard when you love your students. Good teachers are bothered by this, mediocre teachers say things like "that's so sad" and bad teachers are indifferent. I am a good teacher. My kids are like my biological kids. I laugh with them and I cry with them. I share in their joys and I share in their sorrow. It's hard to get a FB or a text or a phone call from them in which they're angry, grieving, distraught, confused....hurting. I am hurting with them. I loved him like a son. I don't know what to say to them to make it better and truthfully there is nothing else I can say. Nothing will make it better. It is my burden to bare as their teacher, their confidante. I won't lie. It is hard...hard as hell, but I wouldn't trade it for any other job because for every heart ached I share with them, I also share in their most important moments as well and that, right there, is what makes it all worth it in the end (yes, that was a long ass run on. I am fully aware).
B. OJ was a great kid. Like a son. I had him twice: sophomore and senior English. He was a funny kid and one that teachers like to have. Things I will never forget: calling OJ and Sterling Lennie and George from Of Mice and Men; OJ chasing a mouse around my room with a copy paper box trying to catch it; 7th period conference periods in which I spent less time planning lessons and more time laughing listening to the kids talk and rif on each other; him saying he was sorry for going off on me that first period; him saving the day and finding my work keys in my boxes that I packed; me telling his dad that he was going to grow up and become a good man; when he sat outside of my room and talked to me about his cousins deformed hand and reassured me that Gracyn's hand would help her be a better person; him misspelling Otterbein like Otterben on his Sr. Project Presentation board.
My conclusion: two things. 1. I am grateful having known that kid and 2. I am grateful for having known all of my kids.
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