Today I worked hard.
I got to my school early, because the teacher I work with was ill, and she wouldn’t be coming in. So I got in the building 45 minutes early to make sure I would have access to what I needed to properly instruct my students today. (45 minutes I don’t get paid for.. A loss of about 7.50 net.)
As I logged into the classroom computer, I got a text saying “Specific student is coming in early, her rabbit died this morning.”
“Okay,” I respond.
Specific child needs a lot from teachers, because their life is filled with sadness.
Their family works hard. Mom is sick, I don’t know with what, I only know she has strokes, can barely talk, and basically could die at any moment.
Sometimes, Student will just be overwhelmed by sadness at the thought of losing their mom, and can get no work done.
But when Student is on task, they are amazing.
A hard worker, respectful, and always willing to help anyone who is struggling to understand a lesson, or clean-up their area, or file paperwork for a teacher, and they smile the whole time. Student is other-centered.
I watch them walk through the classroom door, and they are tearful. Distraught about the rabbit, who was rescued from the yard, and who they have cared for, for about a week, but today he died, and Student is crying real tears for this little cottontail’s loss of life.
I hand them the book, “Love that Dog” by Sharon Creech. “Did you ever read this?” I ask, “It is amazing, I know you will love it.” Hoping they will find solace in the idea that you can lose, and gain from the experience of loss.
Student is curious, and wants to please, so they take the book, and begin to read.
Another text. From a different teacher.
‘See me personally about Student. I just received news that will affect them deeply.’
That’s rather ominous, I think, rather heavy for the death of a bunny…
Teacher enters the room, and comes to give me a hug. I start to pull away, but she won’t let me.
She whispers in my ear. “Student’s dad is in hospital. If he doesn’t get a transplant, NOW, he will die. Student doesn’t know. Don’t tell them.”
Teacher tells me to have a wonderful day.
I vow to keep Student next to me for the duration.
Six and one-half hours is a very long time to try and hide the crushing weight of knowing that a beautiful young child is about to crack- and never be the same.
A vibrant laughter may never return. Helpful hands may grow idle in despair…
I just want to hold them, remind them of how wonderful they are…
But I must teach Student the difference. Between a sentence, and a fragment.
I must guide Student towards the inferences that can be drawn from partial information, when paired with our amazing brain’s background knowledge.
I read Student stories. I hug Student tight when they are called for ‘early dismissal.’
I save my tears. I smile, It’s Friday.
I come home.
I crumble.
All in a day’s work.