One Student's Life
This weekend, the mother of one of my favorite students passed away. We do not know the causes, but we do know that she had been in the hospital for at least a few days. She was only about 30, and she had 6 children, all 15 or younger. Her son, whom I have known since 6th grade, is high on my list of "children I would adopt if it were absolutely necessary" (which, thank goodness, it isn't, since he can live with his grandmother). His father died when we he was younger, though he does have some kind of relationship (I'm not clear on the details) with at least one of his siblings' fathers.
In sixth grade he had a terrible temper, which flared up frequently and violently. I don't remember ever having been on the receiving end of any of his fits of temper, but I witnessed this behavior in the halls. He is incredibly smart, but is a chronic neglector of homework. He makes the girls' heads turn with his dazzling smile and "light" eyes (blue) which are prized in the Dominican community.
At the end of the school year last year, I decided that it was ridiculous that this boy kept failing Science, considering how bright he is. Starting in the fall, I cracked down. I made it absolutely clear to him that any major project not completed would mean lunch detention for as long as it took to complete it. After I made him stay in a few times to finish (or re-do) important projects, he got the message: I have received all his projects on time since then. They are not always high quality, and he still skips day-to-day homework assignments, so he is always on the border between failing and passing, but I feel better about his performance. This is one kid I will NOT leave behind.
He is unfailingly polite and has gained control of his temper over the last few years. Now he's a real leader among his peers, captain of our basketball team, all-around great kid. If there's one student whom I can point to and say, we've had some small part to play in this boy becoming a man, it's him.
Apparently, he came to his basketball game on Saturday without parts of his uniform. When his coach asked what happened, he said, "My mother died." That's how we found out. I saw him for the first time since his mother's death tonight, at the wake. I attended with several other teachers. This is the first time I have attended a funeral in my role in the community as teacher - I have always been a relative or classmate. I realized the other day, thinking about all of this, that if I stay in teaching, the day inevitably will come when I will attend the funeral of a current or former student. I hope not, but I know it will happen; you see too many students each year to avoid this.
At the wake, we each gave him a hug. We asked how he was, but he said nothing, and it was clear that he could not talk beyond his role as the oldest son. He rose to the occasion, though, greeting each of us, thanking us for coming, introducing us to his family members. He smiled proudly during these introductions, and it seemed that he was as proud to introduce us to his family as he was for us to meet his sister, grandmother, and other relatives. And just before a priest began a short service, he carefully brought over a program for each of us.
My heart is bursting with pride in the young man that he has become, a man who knows exactly how to handle himself even in such a painful situation, and at the same time, I am filled with a kind of dread that the pain could overwhelm him, could send him spinning. I hope and believe that it won't, but I am still fearful for him. We will be there, obviously, but I cannot imagine the amount of change that he will go through over the next few months: the loss of his mother, enormous changes in his day-to-day living situation, new responsibilities at home, possible economic difficulties, graduation from middle school and the beginning of high school... It makes my life seem so easy.
In sixth grade he had a terrible temper, which flared up frequently and violently. I don't remember ever having been on the receiving end of any of his fits of temper, but I witnessed this behavior in the halls. He is incredibly smart, but is a chronic neglector of homework. He makes the girls' heads turn with his dazzling smile and "light" eyes (blue) which are prized in the Dominican community.
At the end of the school year last year, I decided that it was ridiculous that this boy kept failing Science, considering how bright he is. Starting in the fall, I cracked down. I made it absolutely clear to him that any major project not completed would mean lunch detention for as long as it took to complete it. After I made him stay in a few times to finish (or re-do) important projects, he got the message: I have received all his projects on time since then. They are not always high quality, and he still skips day-to-day homework assignments, so he is always on the border between failing and passing, but I feel better about his performance. This is one kid I will NOT leave behind.
He is unfailingly polite and has gained control of his temper over the last few years. Now he's a real leader among his peers, captain of our basketball team, all-around great kid. If there's one student whom I can point to and say, we've had some small part to play in this boy becoming a man, it's him.
Apparently, he came to his basketball game on Saturday without parts of his uniform. When his coach asked what happened, he said, "My mother died." That's how we found out. I saw him for the first time since his mother's death tonight, at the wake. I attended with several other teachers. This is the first time I have attended a funeral in my role in the community as teacher - I have always been a relative or classmate. I realized the other day, thinking about all of this, that if I stay in teaching, the day inevitably will come when I will attend the funeral of a current or former student. I hope not, but I know it will happen; you see too many students each year to avoid this.
At the wake, we each gave him a hug. We asked how he was, but he said nothing, and it was clear that he could not talk beyond his role as the oldest son. He rose to the occasion, though, greeting each of us, thanking us for coming, introducing us to his family members. He smiled proudly during these introductions, and it seemed that he was as proud to introduce us to his family as he was for us to meet his sister, grandmother, and other relatives. And just before a priest began a short service, he carefully brought over a program for each of us.
My heart is bursting with pride in the young man that he has become, a man who knows exactly how to handle himself even in such a painful situation, and at the same time, I am filled with a kind of dread that the pain could overwhelm him, could send him spinning. I hope and believe that it won't, but I am still fearful for him. We will be there, obviously, but I cannot imagine the amount of change that he will go through over the next few months: the loss of his mother, enormous changes in his day-to-day living situation, new responsibilities at home, possible economic difficulties, graduation from middle school and the beginning of high school... It makes my life seem so easy.
posted by ms. v. at 9:58 PM
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