Four years ago, my students were being horrible to each other. They were calling each other names and just being generally mean. I had had enough, so I cancelled my plans one day, and decided we were going to have a day where we celebrated each other. I called it "warm fuzzies" and I was really excited. I printed a class list for every kid, and told them that they were going to write down one nice thing about each person on the list. I told them it had to be something genuine, too. Nothing about nice clothes or hair. I wanted them to think carefully and be real. I called each kid to the front of the room one at a time and said something I appreciated about them. I collected all of the papers and told them I would type up the lists and return them at a later date.
About a month and a half later I got a phone call that I will never forget. It was almost 10 p.m. on a Sunday night. Our phone doesn't typically ring that late. I looked at the caller i.d. and was surprised to see it was one of my principals calling. I answered the phone and got the shock of my life. Lori said she was sorry she was calling so late, but she was calling to let me know that "we lost one of your kiddos." I didn't understand what she was telling me. I had to ask her to repeat herself. She told me that one of my freshmen had passed away over the weekend. I still didn't quite understand and asked what happened. She said that D had passed away in his home, and that at that point the police were ruling it an accidental death. She told me again how sorry she was, and let me know that in the morning another one of the principals would be making an announcement to the student body. I thanked her for calling and hung up the phone.
I didn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned and cried all night long. I didn't want to go to school the next day. I didn't think I could do it. But I had to, because I wanted to be there for my kids when they found out. D was in my block class which meant that he went to three classes a day with the same kids. He was really quiet in class. He sat in my room for three quarters of a school year, and I felt I hardly knew him compared to some of the more boisterous kids in the class. But I already missed him. I was sad for D and his family, but I was also sad that my other kids were going to hurt. I wished like hell I could do something to help make it better for them. But how do you explain something like that to kids so young? How do you explain that to someone else's children?
The depth of my emotions startled me. I had only been teaching for three years, and nothing like this had ever happened before. We had lost two other students since I started teaching, but I didn't know the others.
D was in my sixth hour class. I cried all the way to work. I cried before school because well-meaning teachers who knew he was in my class came to see how I was doing. I managed to get myself together before school started and my seniors came to the room. But then I cried through my first hour class because Ralph got on the intercom and made the announcement. He did a beautiful job, and I lost my tenuous grip on composure. My students were great, though. They didn't know D because they were seniors and he was a freshman, but they could see I was hurting and the empathy they showed was sweet.
When 4th hour came around, administrators visited each of our block classes, and talked to our kids. They let them know what resources were available, and that we were there for them. Some kids hardly reacted. Others broke down completely. J was D's neighbor. He needed a hug. While I was hugging him, he told me through his tears that he had seen the paramedics taking D out of the house in a body bag. My heart broke.
J came to me and asked me to help him edit the eulogy he wrote. He also wanted to know if he could have D's warm fuzzies so he could read them at the funeral. I printed them out, and thanked God privately that we had done them.
The funeral was hard. It was on a school day, during school hours. Scott, Karen and I got people to cover our classes, and we went to the funeral. We were shocked to see how many kids were there. Several of them we thought were there just so they could get out of school, and that made us angry. But one of them in particular, shocked us. When the pastor asked if there was anyone who would like to share a memory, this young man stood up and said some of the nicest things. I had no idea he was as mature as he was. When J got up to speak, he did a beautiful job as well. He had a hard time reading the warm fuzzies, but he did it.
It took time, but we managed to get through it. Even though it was four years ago, D is often in my thoughts. Partly because we never got closure. The police reported it as an accidental death, and nothing else was ever said. I recently found out that it was officially ruled a suicide. I don't think I will ever forget D, or that horrible time.
Today it all came rushing back. I got an e-mail from one of the counselors at school. She said that M's grandma had come in to let us know that M tried to commit suicide last night, and is now in the hospital. I have only known M for about a month, yet those feelings are just as strong as they were when D passed away. I cried all the way home today.
Death is always sad. My friend's aunt just lost a four month long battle with a blood clot in her brain. I'm sad for her and her family. But somehow this is different. Cheryl had a long life. True, it was cut short, but she experienced life. M is still a baby. She has so much potential. How do you make her see that? I don't know much about her home life, but apparently it's pretty rough. She doesn't appear to have many friends at school. But how do we show her that life is still worth living?
A few months ago my friend created a slide show of pictures of her youngest child. She used a song that has quickly become one of my favorites; Dream Big by Ryan Shupe and the Rubber Band. The lyrics express what every parent wants for their child, and what every teacher wants for their kids.
Dream Big
When you cry be sure to dry your eyes,
'cause better days are sure to come.
And when you smile be sure to smile wide,
and don't let them know that they have won.
And when you walk, walk with pride,
don't show the hurt inside,
because the pain will soon be gone.
And when you dream, dream big,
As big as the ocean blue.
'Cause when you dream it might come true.
So when you dream, dream big.
And when you laugh be sure to laugh out loud,
'cause it will carry all your cares away.
And when you see, see the beauty all around and in yourself,
and it will help you feel okay.
And when you pray, pray for strength
to help you carry on when the troubles come your way.
And when you dream, dream big,
As big as the ocean blue.
'Cause when you dream it might come true.
So when you dream, dream big.
And when you laugh be sure to laugh out loud,
'cause it will carry all your cares away.
And when you see, see the beauty all around and in yourself,
and it will help you feel okay.
And when you pray, pray for strength
to help you carry on when the troubles come your way.
And when you dream, dream big,
As big as the ocean blue.
'Cause when you dream it might come true.
So when you dream, dream big.
It's days like today that make me thankful for what I've got. Dream big.
1 comment:
Kristina, I'm so sorry you've had to deal with the death of a student. I think death is hard to deal with in such a young person, no matter how well we know the person or not, but it makes it that much harder KNOWING them,and knowing how much they'll miss out in life.
I dearly love that song. I cried the first time I heard it on the radio and KNEW it was the perfect song for Connor's montage. It's such a powerful and meaningful song. I'm happy it meant as much to you as it did to me!
HUGS...
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