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Sad thread:
About fifteen years ago, I sought educational work anywhere that I could find it. One of my favorite past high school teachers had taken a job at an under-privileged charter school in a slum neighborhood and, desperate for help, asked me if I could cover a...
1/n
About fifteen years ago, I sought educational work anywhere that I could find it. One of my favorite past high school teachers had taken a job at an under-privileged charter school in a slum neighborhood and, desperate for help, asked me if I could cover a...
1/n
section.
If I’m being honest, I wasn’t particularly thrilled about the opportunity, but I needed the money... so I accepted the offer.
The campus was in a location my middle-class family shunned and the students weren’t exactly la crème de la crème.
I loved the message...
2/n
If I’m being honest, I wasn’t particularly thrilled about the opportunity, but I needed the money... so I accepted the offer.
The campus was in a location my middle-class family shunned and the students weren’t exactly la crème de la crème.
I loved the message...
2/n
and the concept of the school, but I, a fresh graduate of an esteemed program, felt that the position was a bit beneath me. I was used to helping undergrads and professors with research and prep—not assigning detention for being tardy.
Admittedly, my attitude sucked.
3/n
Admittedly, my attitude sucked.
3/n
My students were a gaggle who never shut up—ten different voices talking at the same time. A couple of them were brilliant... most were not.
Twice a week, I taught my course and left.
One a month I collected my check.
Did the students like me? Who cares... it was...
4/n
Twice a week, I taught my course and left.
One a month I collected my check.
Did the students like me? Who cares... it was...
4/n
just a gig.
A few months passed, and one of the students asked me if I was ever going to come to “board game night” at the school. Apparently, they had one night a week where they played board games... I said, “I didn’t know, why do you want me to come?”
And the reply...
5/n
A few months passed, and one of the students asked me if I was ever going to come to “board game night” at the school. Apparently, they had one night a week where they played board games... I said, “I didn’t know, why do you want me to come?”
And the reply...
5/n
caught me off-guard...
“You’re our smartest and favorite teacher... everyone wants to take a swing at you...”
I immediately felt humbled and a bit concerned.
Why did they like me? I was just another gear in the machine and it made nervous that they thought I was their...
6/n
“You’re our smartest and favorite teacher... everyone wants to take a swing at you...”
I immediately felt humbled and a bit concerned.
Why did they like me? I was just another gear in the machine and it made nervous that they thought I was their...
6/n
smartest teacher.
Humbled, I agreed.
For the next few months, I became a regular at board game night... and tried my best to live up to their teenage expectations of my abilities.
Over the year, I learned about how talented each of them was and what they dreamed...
7/n
Humbled, I agreed.
For the next few months, I became a regular at board game night... and tried my best to live up to their teenage expectations of my abilities.
Over the year, I learned about how talented each of them was and what they dreamed...
7/n
of doing whenever they “made it out.”
One of them began to show great style in writing, though he was dyslexic, and I told him that I thought he should explore writing. He said that no one else had ever told him that, but he’d always wanted to write more.
8/n
One of them began to show great style in writing, though he was dyslexic, and I told him that I thought he should explore writing. He said that no one else had ever told him that, but he’d always wanted to write more.
8/n
Another one of my students was a smug smartass... (ironic of me to say that, huh?). He’d always make an off-color joke or a disrespectful comment from time to time, but his critical thinking skills were on-point. Part of what made him so good at being a smartass was...
9/n
9/n
that is observation skills were astute.
As the year passed, I was offered a good position at a college that would start the following academic year... it seems that I wouldn’t need to seek further work from the little urban charter school. I didn’t tell my students...
10/n
As the year passed, I was offered a good position at a college that would start the following academic year... it seems that I wouldn’t need to seek further work from the little urban charter school. I didn’t tell my students...
10/n
I figured that they wouldn’t really care anyway, and that they’d be happy to have another educator in my place. I moved on.
A few months later, the one I’d encouraged to write more, added me on Facebook. After thinking, I accepted.
He’d begun writing poems, and...
11/n
A few months later, the one I’d encouraged to write more, added me on Facebook. After thinking, I accepted.
He’d begun writing poems, and...
11/n
putting them to music for a band he’d started. He told me via Messenger that he wanted to be a songwriter.
The smartass kid added me, too, not long after, and said that he missed my class and missed how I would push him to think...
12/n
The smartass kid added me, too, not long after, and said that he missed my class and missed how I would push him to think...
12/n
The poet began performing at local shows, and started writing more and more. His music got better and he embraced his talents.
Did he do this because of me? No. I’m not saying that I’m why he did it—he was the reason he did it, but I enjoyed watching him grow...
13/n
Did he do this because of me? No. I’m not saying that I’m why he did it—he was the reason he did it, but I enjoyed watching him grow...
13/n
Then, something tragic happened to the poet. One night, while he was on stage at a local punk show, he experienced a cerebral hemorrhage and collapsed dead in the middle of his set...
I was stunned.
How? How could he, the dyslexic kid who loved to write, be gone?!
14/n
I was stunned.
How? How could he, the dyslexic kid who loved to write, be gone?!
14/n
No, no dammit. He had too much to do... he was just starting to get it... no!!!
...
I shutdown and cried all weekend...
And to think—I had not even wanted to teach him?
What an asshole. What an asshole I’d been before.
15/n
...
I shutdown and cried all weekend...
And to think—I had not even wanted to teach him?
What an asshole. What an asshole I’d been before.
15/n
Moving on... bet you can guess where this is going now.
The smartass kid went on to study respiratory care. He didn’t make straight A’s or anything, but he finished. He had a kid, too, and got married. I never heard much out of him.
Well, I just learned that earlier...
16/n
The smartass kid went on to study respiratory care. He didn’t make straight A’s or anything, but he finished. He had a kid, too, and got married. I never heard much out of him.
Well, I just learned that earlier...
16/n
this year he lost a battle with cystic fibrosis...
I am completely ashamed of my younger self.
Each of these students, who I didn’t even want to teach, grew, explored, challenged themselves—and how fortunate that I was even able to know them?
What an asshole I’ve been.
17/n
I am completely ashamed of my younger self.
Each of these students, who I didn’t even want to teach, grew, explored, challenged themselves—and how fortunate that I was even able to know them?
What an asshole I’ve been.
17/n
How wonderful that I was given the honor to teach them, play games with them, and hear them dream.
They help me view more of my students as gifts... instead of nameless bodies.
15% of that class is now deceased... and they’re barely in their 30s..
... and I’m still here.
18/18.
They help me view more of my students as gifts... instead of nameless bodies.
15% of that class is now deceased... and they’re barely in their 30s..
... and I’m still here.
18/18.
After thought...
I was afraid to post this because I was afraid of how it’d reflect on me...
Instead, I hope to connect to others by admitting my growth.
I was afraid to post this because I was afraid of how it’d reflect on me...
Instead, I hope to connect to others by admitting my growth.
