premature introspection
-3 addresses
-2 roomies
-1 lost cat, 1 gave-away dog
-1 back windshield shattered by an invisible weapon, 1 punctured tire from a nail left behind from filling a pothole
-1 front fender dented and scratched by distraction, late-night cravings, and a sister-talk
-480 students (give-or-take) with just a little more mathematical knowledge and the realization (hopefully) that the world is bigger than one county school district and a handful of neighborhood projects
-4 deaths
-debt higher than it began
-26 frequent flier miles
-104 payroll stubs
-2 yearbooks
-2 classrooms
-1 wood-burned plaque made by a drop-out who kept dropping in
-5 programs on an out-dated laptop
-2 resume entries
-1 mug, 1 waterbottle
-67,000 miles
-4 graduation ceremonies
-20 home football games
-4 basketball playoff games
-adopted parents, siblings, and good friends
-a townful of Christmas card destinations
-day trips to other states
-spring and summer vacations to Hot Springs, Texas, New Mexico, and other "over there" places
-learning to love sushi
-getting lost in the wrong part of Memphis
-love
-480
-480
I can't believe that I've taught 480 students. Obviously give and take, since I had some of them twice. But 480. And I still feel like there's so much to do. Not for me though. Not here. He reminded me of that - no, I'm not from here, I can't possible realize what these children are going through, what he went through, because I'm not black, I'm not poor. No, I don't know what these children are going through. But I know what they won't go through if they don't get a decent education, if they can't escape this black hole of a county, where the only thing you have to look forward to is making babies and food stamps. I know what it's like to board a plane and get off in a place where you don't speak the language. I know what it's like to wake up one morning and want to have a better job and actually be able to compete for that job. I know what it's like to log-on to a computer and pick whatever classes I feel like for the next semester. I know what it feels like to have people respect you because you are doing a good job. No, I don't know what it's like to not have heat and depend on school to get your food. But I do know what my students are going to miss because of stubborn, incompetent, ignorant people like him. I know what opportunities my children are going to miss out on because no one is pushing them, holding them to a higher standard, expecting them to achieve something great. I know what they will miss out on, what they will never be able to tell their children about because they were born to the wrong parents, in the wrong side of town, in the wrong county, the wrong state, the wrong color. And it breaks my heart.
And so I leave.
I'm abandoning them to their fate because I can't do enough to save them. I'm not strong enough, I'm not getting them early enough, I can't feed them and shelter them and clothe them and convince them that they are smart enough, that they are brave enough, that they CAN do this, that they can get out of this crappy town and have those experiences.
And so I leave.
-2 roomies
-1 lost cat, 1 gave-away dog
-1 back windshield shattered by an invisible weapon, 1 punctured tire from a nail left behind from filling a pothole
-1 front fender dented and scratched by distraction, late-night cravings, and a sister-talk
-480 students (give-or-take) with just a little more mathematical knowledge and the realization (hopefully) that the world is bigger than one county school district and a handful of neighborhood projects
-4 deaths
-debt higher than it began
-26 frequent flier miles
-104 payroll stubs
-2 yearbooks
-2 classrooms
-1 wood-burned plaque made by a drop-out who kept dropping in
-5 programs on an out-dated laptop
-2 resume entries
-1 mug, 1 waterbottle
-67,000 miles
-4 graduation ceremonies
-20 home football games
-4 basketball playoff games
-adopted parents, siblings, and good friends
-a townful of Christmas card destinations
-day trips to other states
-spring and summer vacations to Hot Springs, Texas, New Mexico, and other "over there" places
-learning to love sushi
-getting lost in the wrong part of Memphis
-love
-480
-480
I can't believe that I've taught 480 students. Obviously give and take, since I had some of them twice. But 480. And I still feel like there's so much to do. Not for me though. Not here. He reminded me of that - no, I'm not from here, I can't possible realize what these children are going through, what he went through, because I'm not black, I'm not poor. No, I don't know what these children are going through. But I know what they won't go through if they don't get a decent education, if they can't escape this black hole of a county, where the only thing you have to look forward to is making babies and food stamps. I know what it's like to board a plane and get off in a place where you don't speak the language. I know what it's like to wake up one morning and want to have a better job and actually be able to compete for that job. I know what it's like to log-on to a computer and pick whatever classes I feel like for the next semester. I know what it feels like to have people respect you because you are doing a good job. No, I don't know what it's like to not have heat and depend on school to get your food. But I do know what my students are going to miss because of stubborn, incompetent, ignorant people like him. I know what opportunities my children are going to miss out on because no one is pushing them, holding them to a higher standard, expecting them to achieve something great. I know what they will miss out on, what they will never be able to tell their children about because they were born to the wrong parents, in the wrong side of town, in the wrong county, the wrong state, the wrong color. And it breaks my heart.
And so I leave.
I'm abandoning them to their fate because I can't do enough to save them. I'm not strong enough, I'm not getting them early enough, I can't feed them and shelter them and clothe them and convince them that they are smart enough, that they are brave enough, that they CAN do this, that they can get out of this crappy town and have those experiences.
And so I leave.