only the good
one of my students is dead. his family was in a car wreck on friday on the way to visit extended family for easter. marqualyne and his grandmother were both killed.
this was a four-day weekend, so the first time we will see our students after this tragedy is tomorrow. some of them know; marqualyne was a really popular kid, and he was a member of the mac band and there was a competition this weekend after his death. most of them don't, so teachers have been quite literally given a script and asked to make the announcement in their first period classes.
my first period class is jv tennis, and most of the kids will be out tomorrow for our last tournament of the season. my second period speech class was the one in which marqualyne sat in the front row. last week, as an impromptu lesson on the importance of everyday instances of communication, i had that class make a bucket list. marqualyne's five items included going to church and telling his family he loved them. when i asked the class why we weren't doing these things every day, marqualyne's answer was, 'i do those two.'
so the head tennis coach will take the team to the tournament in the morning and i'll talk to the tennis kids who couldn't go during first period. then i'll stay for second to talk to my speech kids and the substitute; it seems an incredibly difficult situation for a substitute teacher to walk into, and i do not want the poor woman blindsided with a letter five minutes before the bell. if it seems like the day is going to be really bad for the kids, i'll probably end up staying after talking to the head coach. if it seems to be going smoothly, i'll go meet my tennis kids at the tournament. three of the kids playing tennis tomorrow were in my second period class with marqulyne.
i wrote my kids a letter. i will read my script verbatim, give them my letter, and then take their lead. i remember when my friend rene died when we were sophomores. it made no sense. the world stopped. suddenly, we were all mortal. how every single one of my teachers held it together during that week is beyond me. i know i won't break down in front of my kids, but i feel so fucking powerless and desperate; there is NOTHING i can do right now for them. there is nothing i can do right now but love them all, and right now, that doesn't fix a damn thing.
this was a four-day weekend, so the first time we will see our students after this tragedy is tomorrow. some of them know; marqualyne was a really popular kid, and he was a member of the mac band and there was a competition this weekend after his death. most of them don't, so teachers have been quite literally given a script and asked to make the announcement in their first period classes.
my first period class is jv tennis, and most of the kids will be out tomorrow for our last tournament of the season. my second period speech class was the one in which marqualyne sat in the front row. last week, as an impromptu lesson on the importance of everyday instances of communication, i had that class make a bucket list. marqualyne's five items included going to church and telling his family he loved them. when i asked the class why we weren't doing these things every day, marqualyne's answer was, 'i do those two.'
so the head tennis coach will take the team to the tournament in the morning and i'll talk to the tennis kids who couldn't go during first period. then i'll stay for second to talk to my speech kids and the substitute; it seems an incredibly difficult situation for a substitute teacher to walk into, and i do not want the poor woman blindsided with a letter five minutes before the bell. if it seems like the day is going to be really bad for the kids, i'll probably end up staying after talking to the head coach. if it seems to be going smoothly, i'll go meet my tennis kids at the tournament. three of the kids playing tennis tomorrow were in my second period class with marqulyne.
i wrote my kids a letter. i will read my script verbatim, give them my letter, and then take their lead. i remember when my friend rene died when we were sophomores. it made no sense. the world stopped. suddenly, we were all mortal. how every single one of my teachers held it together during that week is beyond me. i know i won't break down in front of my kids, but i feel so fucking powerless and desperate; there is NOTHING i can do right now for them. there is nothing i can do right now but love them all, and right now, that doesn't fix a damn thing.