The Day After

I did not want to go to school today.

The day after another tragedy.

The day after another school shooting.

“We won’t be watching CNN 10 today, friends. I just feel it’s best that we don’t.”

Students nod their heads understandingly.

One student whispers, “because of the…SS…school shooting?”

I nod my head to confirm.

I tell them that I love them and would do anything for them.

I tell them that I’m here if they need to talk, and so is every other adult on campus.

I tell them that today we’re going to watch Emperor’s New Groove and they can sit with their friends.

They cheer and move and I see all the little friendships that have formed in my classroom under my care and guidance.

They BELLY LAUGH at the best parts of the movie.

They ask, “what are we going to do on the last day of school!?”

I wish I knew. I wish I could tell them.

Sadly, each day is a mystery.

We can plan all we want, but we can’t control everything.

Maybe a game, maybe another movie, maybe helping Ms. Schindler clean out her classroom. Who knows what Friday will bring.

Hopefully lots of hugs.

Probably some tears.

Definitely a sense of gratitude for all that my students have given me this year.

“We’re the ones who made you want to leave.”

“No, you’re the ones who make me want to stay.”

I’m not leaving my kids.

I’m taking on a new challenge.

Something I always encourage my kids to do.

I’m doing something I’ve never done before.

I could easily fail.

What is my life if not a classroom teacher?

I’ll never know until I try.

They will continue to be the reason I care deeply about education.

11 years of teaching.

Seeing so many grow into successful adults.

Caring about their well-being always.

Worrying about them when things are tough.

Praising them when they achieve their goals.

Rooting for them always.

I have 11 years worth of kids that I’m carrying with me.

I need a break before adding any more.

I can’t believe some teachers do this for 20-30+ years.

My entire lifetime.

I had those teachers.

But I am not that teacher.

Not right now, at least; and that’s okay.

I am still:

Passionate about education.

Caring, curious, empathetic, compassionate, eager, and welcoming.

Thinking about every kid I’ve never taught or coached.

Grateful for all the people that have helped mold me into the educator I am today.

Hopeful that education will become EVERYONE’S top priority, whether they work in the field or not.

If you care about life, and the future of humanity, you should care about public education and all that the institution provides — no matter how messed up it is at times.

Education is the answer.

Education is our future.

Education is our hope.

How Writing Healed Me

For as long as I can remember I have kept a journal. As a child I would record the often mundane activities of my day, gush about the boy that I had a crush on that week, try to keep track of the outfits I wore, how I played in whatever sport was in season, any top secret information I may have overheard, or my fears of  being grounded from television (the thought of no Nickelodeon for a week really scared me). This type of writing continued through my middle school years and then abruptly changed after my freshman year of high school.

Ten years ago, I lost one of my best friends. He was a friend to so many people and brought so much joy to his family. It was absolutely devastating for me and I can remember my feelings exactly as they were on that rainy July day in 2003. At first I didn’t want to do anything. I wanted to lay around and cry and be with friends and eat Cheez-Its and ice cream (because I also tend to abuse the “healing” powers of food). The last thing I wanted to do was think about what life was going to be like without Ryan, let alone write down all of the feelings I had about it; but, when Ryan’s mom asked me to speak at his funeral, I knew I couldn’t just go up there and wing it. I had to write it. I had to be sure I said everything I wanted to say, to make sure that everyone understood what an amazing friend he was to me and to everyone he ever met. I carefully and tearfully wrote down a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson: “The only way to have a friend is to be one” and from there I wrote down all the ways Ryan was a friend to me. There were many ways to describe him; son, brother, athletic, charming, silly; but for me it was most simply, friend.

Soon after Ryan passed away, there was a message board set up online where people could go and write things in his memory. At first it seemed like I wrote on there every day. I would write about how much I missed him, and would vent about how unfair it was that he had to leave us. I would ask why him? Why now? I remember how guilty I felt the first time I felt happy about something after he died, and I wrote it on the message board. I remember someone being mean to me and really wishing Ryan was there to make me feel better, and I wrote it on the message board. People probably didn’t like some of the things I wrote, but it was the only thing I felt I could do. I also wrote in my journal, but it was comforting to see that some of my other friends were writing on the message board as well, that we were all grieving together, and that we all understood each other. As time went on, I wrote less and less, and eventually the message board was deactivated, or at least has since disappeared into cyberspace. Nonetheless, writing on that message board helped heal the wounds of losing a best friend.

Although difficult, this experience strengthened me in more ways than one. It would have been very easy to succumb to the weakness I felt at the time and turn against my faith. Instead, I learned to lean on my faith to help me understand and cope with losing someone I loved. When I struggle I think about how difficult it was to lose him and if I got through that, surely I can get through whatever plagues me now. I learned that you have to live your life passionately and tell people how much they mean to you when you have the chance. I also learned the power of writing. I would write and write and write until I got every word down on paper that was in my mind so that I could be rid of the pain that was inside me.

I still miss him. I think anyone that knew him still misses him. I can’t help but wonder what his life might be like if he were still here. But this is not for me to dwell on, as I know he has taught me more than I ever thought he could. He has protected me, and probably laughed at me (a lot), shaken his head in disapproval, and applauded when I deserved it. He has been and always will be in my heart.

To this day, I still write to heal.