Yesterday was my last day at my current school. It did not fail to disappoint.
Though classes were in session, 85% of the students did not attend school (I had, maybe, 3 or so students in each class), and most students that did attend were walking around outside of class (it blew my mind my first year, but I’ve stopped trying to fight that fight alone), so I had considerable leeway with what I did with the day. I used the students in my class the first few periods to help me put the finishing touches on my room cleanup.
During one period, I chatted with a fellow teacher on the ethics of waterboarding. I had just started reading up on it that day, so I had not landed on a conclusion as to its permissability. He found that incredible. He just could not see why anyone would immediately and obviously declare it to be horrible torture, and was aghast that I’d even question that (Hey, I’m not a reactionary; I need time to research and think.). For the record, he did pose several good questions to me, questions that are worth my consideration as I form my view. The conversation was fun. We’ve had several conversations about politics, religion, and philosophy over the last three years, and I’ve come to cherish both the conversations and the unlikely friendship that developed between us (We are absolute polar opposites on just about everything from our personalities to our opinions on current events and the meaning of life.). He’ll be one of the many that I will stay in contact with no matter where I go.
The last period, with no students in class, I checked out and began to say my goodbyes. As I walked around, shaking hands, hugging, and wishing well, it occured to me that I’ve fallen in love with their souls. That, according to one of my mentors in evangelism, is the key to sharing the gospel with people–fall in love with their souls. Doing so will naturally motivate you to talk about Jesus with them, and you’ll find it happening more and more and more. Moreover, because you really care about them, the conversations will feel less forced. People will be more open to talking with you, because they sense you are genuine.
I admit, this didn’t occur by my design. Due to going through all this drama with my colleagues, it just happened. I really didn’t realize how much I care about these folks, and vice versa. Would I not be sued through the floor, I could write a best selling book about this year. Despite that, I began to think, “you know, I’m gonna miss this place.”
The same goes for the students. One of the students I’m going to miss is Eduardo. A foster child, he joined the wrestling team as a freshman, and has been one of our most dedicated members. At 15 years of age, he became a father, and that, along with wrestling, has made him grow up considerably. Once he spotted me Friday, he ditched his friends and started walking around with me. He literally followed me around wherever I went–from room to room, to each principal’s office, back and forth to my car, helping me pack the last few boxes. When I found out I did part of my exit paperwork wrong, he stayed with me and helped me get it right. No complaining, no whining. He just sat right down without me even asking and started working. The fix took about an hour…would have taken three without him.
When I tore down the wrestling room, he was there helping. He spent a lot of hours in that cramped, stinky room. He had a pensive, sad look on his face as we shut the door. With myself leaving and the head coach not running the program next year, the state of the team is in limbo right now. No one knows if there will even be a team next year. Eduardo has fallen in love with the sport this year, so taking the room down was hard on him.
After he helped me so much, I offered to buy him lunch at El Pollo Loco. He timidly looked at me. “You don’t have to, coach, but I’d like that,” he said, “it will make our last moments together last longer.” I just about melted.
We had a heckuva time at EPL. He taught me how to eat with a tortilla “like a true Mexican.” Supposedly, I was using them like an imbecile. A small moment, but I’m going to cherish it.
As we parted ways back at school, my heart swelled with pride as I had the chance to speak some last words of encouragement to him. My love for this kid runs deep in my bones. I hope this isn’t the last time I see him.
As I drove away, I couldn’t stop looking back.
*Of course, all names have been changed.
**For those who commented on the last post, thank you. Your words warmed my heart. Some of you asked if I was getting out of teaching all together. Nope. I hope to be working at another school in the fall. Exactly where I’ll be is yet to be determined. I’m perfectly willing to work at another urban high school.
Blessings to you on your accomplishments here. I guarantee that you’ve impacted countless kids for the good in ways you’ll never know on this side of life. I wish there were thousands more teachers like you.
Breaks my heart… Schools like this need people like you… God’s speed
Great post. Dude, how do Mexicans eat with a tortilla? Maybe I’ve been looking like an imbecile for all these years. Wait. Well, that’s probably true anyway.
Best of luck to you & Izichi. Hopefully you will land at a school that the students don’t regularly set on fire.
Teachers who love their pupils are the best! I remember with gratitude those who truly cared about us. “I’d fallen in love with their souls” – yes, that’s how it is, our God works gently and surprises us
. Thanks for sharing and may God bless you.
That’s a true calling and ministry you have! God bless.
I would just like to say that I am almost 91. I am from WV mountains. My mother taught me first two grades and then I went to two room school. I adored my teachers who were such great role models. We had children who walked barefoot all weather four or five miles to school, and were slow learners. These teachers spent half of every recess and lunch time with these children helping them play catch-up. Some of these children grew up to BE Somebody, as we called it. I had 12 grades and with that am a published author, my publisher ASKED me for my book, Storytelling in a Nutshell, and it is in the fourth printing! I have held storytelling conferences in many states and on the national level for our Southern Baptist Convention. My book is now in 19 seminaries. All of this I credit to my fantastic teachers, all of them loved me. All of their students were “teacher’s pets!” Our teachers held positions of honor and were respected in the community like our ministers of the gospel! When our teachers were called out of the room for a faculty meeting or something, they could easily just leave the room unattended, but they usually chose one to keep the lesson going, and we did that with such joy. Many became teachers because of these experiences. The Depression robbed me of college, but not of learning. I worked in supervisory position in public library and used the reading list that we had for the local college students, so I just spent all my breaks and lunch times running them down in the card catalog. My national conferences are usually attended by those with graduate degrees and I have many dear friends in their ranks. I must also add, “richer than I you never could be, for I had a mother who read to me.” Thank you for your precious spirit of love for the souls of these dear students, and fellow teachers, especially the one who differs in opinion–iron sharpens iron you know. Maxine Johnson Bersch-Lovern.