Last year, my first year of teaching, was hard. I had to learn the policies, procedures, and curriculum of my building and my district. But the really great part was getting to know students for the first time in my career. I figured out what made them laugh, how to help them make connections between their lives and what they were reading. I learned about their struggles and their fears, accomplishments, and failures.
I didn't have a strong relationship with every single one of my students, but I think we were able to create something solid. Most of my students and I figured out individual understandings: they figured out my limits and I figured out theirs. Some of us joked around; some of us were merely civil.
Some of the kids were really tough, though. One in particular managed to figure out how to be a pain in the butt almost any given day - at least, the days he showed up. Work was at the very bottom of his to-do list: giggling with his friends; napping; and drawing all took precedence. He was actually only in my class for about a semester before he was withdrawn. First, he was sent to live with some relatives because his mother wasn't quite sure how to handle him. He later returned, only to be sent to an alternative program that would give him some more support. I don't think he came back to our campus this past fall; at least, I haven't seen him since the spring.
Last night, he was shot.
Based on the news article, it sounds a lot like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. An argument broke out among the people he was with, a gun was fired, and he became the victim.
Grad school and student teaching and working in the school prepared me for a lot, but this is something that nothing could have prepared me for. And, because of the investigation, there's a lid on what we can't say and what we can. How do I limit a conversation about grief and life and death? How do I address this in a politically correct way that helps students feel, but stays within the boundaries I'm being asked to keep? Am I being asked to keep boundaries?
It's sent me reeling. I'm trying to figure out how I feel, and although anger and some guilt is in the mix, mostly it's just a deep, heart wrenching sorrow. How do we live in a world where it's okay to use a gun to end an argument, even if that end costs the life of a seventeen year old boy? A boy who was a putz in class, and made some really stupid choices, but who giggled nonstop and had a great smile and tried to charm the ladies?
Tonight, my thoughts are with this boy's family, and his friends, and they are with all of my other students, who may drive me crazy, but all of whom I love. I pray that you find peace, and I pray that you are finally safe.
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