Another time I just have to get words out. [subtitle: from last year, the spring of 2022]
It's so interesting to me that last time I wrote this, I spoke about how this journal has been a place I go when I just need to get words out and don't feel like I know where else to put them. That last post is really raw. In case "you" are wondering, I still feel all those things, and it is 2.5 years later. Every month... Several times, I really thought my wait was over. And then... It wasn't. I'm even in that place right now. I have been positive I'm pregnant a few times, and then suddenly... I just wake up one day and know I'm not, even before my period comes. I don't know how to describe it. It's just like... an absence. Some sort of light is just... gone. It was a small spark, a little glow, a tiny pulse that was kind of pearlescently possibly there... And then it wasn't.
But why I'm really writing is because I'm feeling very raw, very broken for a different reasong today, and it is a different reason that I have never written about. Yesterday, I found out that one of my former students, a 9th-grader, was killed in a car accident along with his father on Sunday. I received the notification in a sterile, but well-meaning email I read on my phone from my boss at about 11:30 in the morning. I read the first lines that contained "car accident" and the student's name... and my soul and heart reacted so violently that I actually threw my phone away from me. Tossed it. With a strangled exclamation. Could not bear to be close to the vessel that exposed me to the news because it was so shocking, so tragic, so wrong. No amount of effort would have stopped the sobs that ensued. My poor husband and child, both alarmed, rushed to me. My husband picked up the phone and read the email with a frown. My daughter climbed into my lap and wrapped her arms around me. I told her I couldn't stop crying. She hugged me and wiped my tears.
I have had parents of students and siblings of students pass away before. I just feel the need to explain in writing why this has affected me so much, and just when I think I've kind of put a cap on the cauldron of sadness that I now am carrying around, something else opens it up. After school, it was the news that someone had videoed my poor boy's body in the hospital and then air-dropped it to a bunch of people in the lunchroom today. This evening, it was the news that yet another elementary school contains the restless ghosts of children whose lives ended via bullets from a shattered mind who should never have been able to own a firearm, and yet... somehow had one. It's on the news in the other room, and my chest is tight. I want to listen, but I don't know if I can. I actually physically am not sure.
But back to my student. He and his father both died, and his mother is in the hospital recovering. They leave behind two older brothers, as well. One of the brothers was a student of mine several years ago, and this boy... I will call him Rico because I do not want information on the internet about this family that is not sanctioned by the family itself. I desperately want to see the mother because she has been so special to me over the years. But more special than the mother was Rico.
Rico, in 6th grade, dove headfirst into Spanish class and enjoyed every minute of it. His mom made pupusas from their native El Salvador, and they quickly became my favorite. I asked for the recipe. I think maybe she gave it to me, but I don't know where it is now. Then, I had him again in 8th grade in ELA, but COVID was looming. His face was one of the only ones I saw on Zoom every single day. He stayed after "class" was over and chatted with me about all kinds of things... Some were more mundane, some of them interesting like his hobbies, and sometimes he wanted to talk to me about a friend he was concerned about. I would say that Rico was probably a student that I trusted more than most others, maybe more than any other. I just knew that he enjoyed talking... I sometimes wonder if he really knew how much of a balm it was to have that extended student interaction on Zoom. COVID online teaching had left a huge abyss in my heart that used to be full of the love and laughter of students. His conversation, interest, and selfless concern for others (that went way beyond that of the average 8th grade boy, let me tell you) reminded me of what I always hoped for in students and that they were still there... They were not all just blank faces or dark boxes on a screen, disconnected from me and unconcerned about me and their own education.
I sometimes wondered how much it helped ME to have him "hanging around" after "class" on Zoom to chat. He had that sense about his peers... why not his teachers, too?
So the fall of 2021 came, and Rico was now in high school. I did not interact with him much other than a few texts via Google Voice (something I began when we were online teaching for testing purposes and found was actually kind of nice). He would check in from time to time, or I would, just seeing how his mom was doing (she was fighting a deportation battle, and it was very stressful for their family). I saw his mom walk their dog a time or two past our house; they actually lived a neighborhood over from us. We made plans that I would walk with them and practice my Spanish with his mom; she had a heart for service and a love for others that she no doubt passed on to him. The last few text exchanges were about trying to meet up for one of those walks. It never happened because of this or that thing, even though I said we had "the rest of the summer" to do it. Then, the final exchange was months later, at the end of October. I told him I was thinking of his family and wanted to know how they were doing. He said everything was going really well, told me what his favorite classes were.... "I think my favorite class is either science or Spanish" "both are fun!" My reply: "Yay!" with two happy face emojis.
And that is it. I obviously have not erased that text thread. I don't know if I will be able to. As far as students go, he was very special to me and to basically everyone. To have him, his father, and his dog violently ripped out of this world in a heartbeat on an evening in the spring just reminds me of how precious these students are and how much of an impact they make on MY life. I think we as teachers focus so much on trying to impact THEIR lives.... And not enough time just sitting back and letting the light of our kids shine on us, too.
But why I'm really writing is because I'm feeling very raw, very broken for a different reasong today, and it is a different reason that I have never written about. Yesterday, I found out that one of my former students, a 9th-grader, was killed in a car accident along with his father on Sunday. I received the notification in a sterile, but well-meaning email I read on my phone from my boss at about 11:30 in the morning. I read the first lines that contained "car accident" and the student's name... and my soul and heart reacted so violently that I actually threw my phone away from me. Tossed it. With a strangled exclamation. Could not bear to be close to the vessel that exposed me to the news because it was so shocking, so tragic, so wrong. No amount of effort would have stopped the sobs that ensued. My poor husband and child, both alarmed, rushed to me. My husband picked up the phone and read the email with a frown. My daughter climbed into my lap and wrapped her arms around me. I told her I couldn't stop crying. She hugged me and wiped my tears.
I have had parents of students and siblings of students pass away before. I just feel the need to explain in writing why this has affected me so much, and just when I think I've kind of put a cap on the cauldron of sadness that I now am carrying around, something else opens it up. After school, it was the news that someone had videoed my poor boy's body in the hospital and then air-dropped it to a bunch of people in the lunchroom today. This evening, it was the news that yet another elementary school contains the restless ghosts of children whose lives ended via bullets from a shattered mind who should never have been able to own a firearm, and yet... somehow had one. It's on the news in the other room, and my chest is tight. I want to listen, but I don't know if I can. I actually physically am not sure.
But back to my student. He and his father both died, and his mother is in the hospital recovering. They leave behind two older brothers, as well. One of the brothers was a student of mine several years ago, and this boy... I will call him Rico because I do not want information on the internet about this family that is not sanctioned by the family itself. I desperately want to see the mother because she has been so special to me over the years. But more special than the mother was Rico.
Rico, in 6th grade, dove headfirst into Spanish class and enjoyed every minute of it. His mom made pupusas from their native El Salvador, and they quickly became my favorite. I asked for the recipe. I think maybe she gave it to me, but I don't know where it is now. Then, I had him again in 8th grade in ELA, but COVID was looming. His face was one of the only ones I saw on Zoom every single day. He stayed after "class" was over and chatted with me about all kinds of things... Some were more mundane, some of them interesting like his hobbies, and sometimes he wanted to talk to me about a friend he was concerned about. I would say that Rico was probably a student that I trusted more than most others, maybe more than any other. I just knew that he enjoyed talking... I sometimes wonder if he really knew how much of a balm it was to have that extended student interaction on Zoom. COVID online teaching had left a huge abyss in my heart that used to be full of the love and laughter of students. His conversation, interest, and selfless concern for others (that went way beyond that of the average 8th grade boy, let me tell you) reminded me of what I always hoped for in students and that they were still there... They were not all just blank faces or dark boxes on a screen, disconnected from me and unconcerned about me and their own education.
I sometimes wondered how much it helped ME to have him "hanging around" after "class" on Zoom to chat. He had that sense about his peers... why not his teachers, too?
So the fall of 2021 came, and Rico was now in high school. I did not interact with him much other than a few texts via Google Voice (something I began when we were online teaching for testing purposes and found was actually kind of nice). He would check in from time to time, or I would, just seeing how his mom was doing (she was fighting a deportation battle, and it was very stressful for their family). I saw his mom walk their dog a time or two past our house; they actually lived a neighborhood over from us. We made plans that I would walk with them and practice my Spanish with his mom; she had a heart for service and a love for others that she no doubt passed on to him. The last few text exchanges were about trying to meet up for one of those walks. It never happened because of this or that thing, even though I said we had "the rest of the summer" to do it. Then, the final exchange was months later, at the end of October. I told him I was thinking of his family and wanted to know how they were doing. He said everything was going really well, told me what his favorite classes were.... "I think my favorite class is either science or Spanish" "both are fun!" My reply: "Yay!" with two happy face emojis.
And that is it. I obviously have not erased that text thread. I don't know if I will be able to. As far as students go, he was very special to me and to basically everyone. To have him, his father, and his dog violently ripped out of this world in a heartbeat on an evening in the spring just reminds me of how precious these students are and how much of an impact they make on MY life. I think we as teachers focus so much on trying to impact THEIR lives.... And not enough time just sitting back and letting the light of our kids shine on us, too.