As I suspected, I made no progress in actually writing a 10,000 word novel. I got sidetracked while reading the notes I took the years that I taught. I laughed and cried at the things that had happened, and the memories of these fantastic kids. Considering the years that I taught, the oldest of these kids would now be 33 and 34 years old now. I'd like to hope that all of them are productive adults with thriving families.
I taught in both the city and the suburbs. It was a study in contrasts, of privilege, and the accident of birth. The kids could not help the situations that they were born into. Many of the families worked HARD to get their kids the best and keep them out of trouble. Unfortunately, not every parent was able to succeed in keeping their kids out of trouble. Trouble in the city is much bigger - with fatal consequences - than it is in the suburbs.
A couple of the kids, I know how their stories ended because I read about them in the newspaper:
One of them was involved in a murder, and was serving time in prison. I read an article about him in the paper about 10 years ago. He was 21 at the time, and was looking at long years in prison. This saddened me when I read it, because he was a very smart boy, with a lot of potential. I had high hopes for him.
One of my girls was making a living walking the streets at night, taking any client who drove up to her. She was murdered by one of her clients. She was 18 years old. Such a shame to see another life destroyed and family shattered.
There was the family that was evicted from their apartment during the day. The principal had lunch in her office with the little girl and her sister. When I went out for recess duty, I saw their meager belongings out on the street, the parents attempting to protect them from scavenging neighbors while they tried to move things into a friend's car. I hugged the little girl at the end of the day, and that was the very last time I ever saw her.
One of my little guys was killed in a car accident at the age of 8. Not only was the little guy killed, the entire family was wiped out by a drunk driver.
And then, there were the other stories:
Lovely little L. (1st grade) who decided after looking through her crayon box that nobody in the class was "black" or "white". We were all people of colors. She went around with her 64 box of crayons and very studiously matched each one of us to the correct crayon color. (Now, 25 years later, I hope she still has that wisdom, and wish more of us would share that vision.)
D., who at the tender age of 8, observed that "Sometimes, being an adult really sucks" when he was talking to me about his parents getting divorced.
During testing, I observed two students looking at each other, giggling, and looking inside of their desks. Curious about what was going on, I crept up the aisle behind the boys and peeped over their shoulders. As I looked down, I saw that each boy had a ruler in their hands, had unzipped their pants and were measuring their, um..... yeah. I cleared my throat, the boys jumped, and things were quickly tucked away. (I said nothing. What could I say?)
M. was a tough young guy. He had machisimo radiating off of him. M. sat at the same table as the beautiful J. M.J. had a HUGE crush on J. He sat across the room. While I was working with reading groups, I would look up, and see M.J. staring at J. with a look of profound something on his face. One memorable day, I looked up in time to see MJ toss a piece of paper across the room towards J.
Unfortunately for MJ, the note completely missed J. and bounced off of M's head. Before I could get across the room to grab the offending note, M had opened the paper, read the note, and stood up screaming "I am NOT that kind of guy! Who did this? Who? Who?" Thank the good Lord MJ did not sign that note. I grabbed the note and attempted to restore calm to the classroom as the kids all demanded what was going on. MJ was under his desk, looking for something, with a look of utter mortification on his face. M. was looking for a fight, and J, the object of the note - was totally clueless and among the voices demanding to know what was going on. Once the furor died down, and MJ was sent on an errand down to the media center, and M was sent on an errand to the office, I read the note. The eloquent contents read "I love your eyes. I love the way your nose crinkles up when you do a math problem. I think you are just the most wonderful thing in the world."
Such a beautifully written note. I do hope that MJ finally found the person deserving of that kind of love.
Finally, I found a note to myself that I wrote a few years ago. I ran across one of my parents. I'd had his son my second year of teaching - 26 years ago. He recognized me at a train station, and we talked for a while. His family had moved out of the city at the end of the school year. Through the combined efforts of him, his wife, and his mother, they had managed to scrape together enough money to put a down payment on a house in a good school district in the suburbs. I found out that all of his kids had graduated from college, with honors. They were all thriving in their various careers, and the little boy I'd had in my class was now married.
You know, there are times when I look back on the years I spent in teaching and wonder if I made any difference to the kids. I know for a fact that the KIDS made a difference to me. I was changed for the better, and my world view was expanded, by the wonderful, magical, loving little people that I was privileged to work with.
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