Let me tell you about my student (words I kept to myself today)

I will not use her name for privacy reasons but I want to tell you about my student.
Or I should say my former student.
She left our school last year after a series of problems. Problems with other students that led to trouble and led to fighting and led to skipping and eventually led to her removal. I don't want to call it expulsion—we did not formally expel her—but there is not a good term for what we did. We asked her not to come back. She technically lived out of our district. And when the problems started, we asked her to go to the school she was zoned to go to.

But that is not what I want to tell you about my student, sorry, my former student.

I want to tell you about the student who had two elementary teachers contacting my partner teacher to watch her and to find connection and to love. The student who got two elementary teachers to love her when she did not want us to love her. At least she didn’t want to admit she did. But they loved her. I want to tell you about the student who sat quietly in class. Who saw me as the enemy because she couldn't trust a teacher and she couldn't trust a man and she couldn't trust a white male teacher. I was everything she didn't want yet she couldn't scare me off. I want to tell you about a student who I got to smile when I told a joke both because it was so bad it was funny but also because the more she tried to act hard the more she couldn't hide who she was. And the more I really appreciated who she was.

I want to tell you about my student because I could not speak the words about her today. I could not speak to her family and to her friends because I didn't feel it was my place.

I could not speak at her funeral.

My student—my former student—was 14 years old. She was loved but couldn't escape her demons.
What I could not share and what I wanted to share were my memories of her in my class. My class where I tried to teach her about the Stamp Act and about protesting and about what was going on in the world, but I don't remember anything she turned in. No, what I remember about her wasn't her homework. It was how much she loved tattoos. Yes she had some. Yes she was just 13/14 years old. I didn't care, she was in my class. I remember how much she practiced the lettering. She sat at her desk with a piece of paper on the screen methodically tracing letters. Intricate calligraphy letters. After class she'd proudly bring that paper to me and show off how well she did. And she did well. And I loved that she showed me. Yes I should have been mad she didn't do her geography assignment. But she was proud and so was I.

Most of all I remember a song who's name is known only to her but I'll never forget. It was a sappy hip hop love song with a beat that reminded me of yacht rock and I will forever associate with Gerry Rafferty. It is that song that I have made a Rafferty song that lives in my brain. It is that song that plays when I thought about her. When she left our school and I wondered how she was doing. This last summer when she should have been getting ready for high school. It made me wonder what she would be in four years when she should be graduating. When I play music for my son to sleep and certain songs come up, I think of her. Songs where the lyrics have nothing to do with her, but the actual music make me think of the song she played for me so proudly after school.

It's the songs I played when I found out she died by suicide.

It's how I choose to remember her and how I wanted to tell her family I remembered her, but as a white man who knew her for a few months, I didn't feel it was my place to say. And that is OK. Her family loved her. Her friends loved her. I will never forget her.

My partner teacher will never forget her.

So thank you for letting me share. I am not sad today. Sad isn't the right word. I'm just lost in thought. Neither happy nor sad. I wanted to share because I needed a place to share. A place to remember. Perhaps it's more regret. Regret I didn't connect with her more. My partner did, which is OK. Sometimes that happens.

Again, thank you. Please, please, please admit if you need help. Life is hard sometimes and we all need someone to share that burden with. Don't be afraid to ask for help. Dial 988 or seek a friend or a doctor or anyone. And as I said to her classes, please be good humans.

 

Damn, you're not sad but I am. EWF is correct, "a child is born with a heart of gold" and then society screws some of them up.

I loved (no pun intended) where you showed her some human kindness and she reciprocated. Ultimately it wasn't enough to overcome what she was dealing with but it was beautiful in the moment.

Thanks for sharing a story of human kindness.

 

You were a force for good in that girl's life.

 

Teachers are heroes.

 

I work with some good people but my partner is a true saint and I’m drafting off her wake.

 

I'm so sorry to read this. There have been suicides by kids as young as 10 in my area of New York. My daughter is 10. It's a horrifying, terrifying thought, and it feels helpless knowing there are so many things out there that can generate demons, whether kids come from a traditional home or not. May all our kids, when they are in a time of need, have teachers as supportive and comforting in their classroom as you.

 

That is simply heartbreaking. Just so heartbreaking. Give your (not so) little one a big hug.

 

Don't sell yourself short. Even if you don't feel the connection, you know that ensuring that students feel seen and valued matters. It is easy to forget at a moment like this, but it absolutely matters.

 

Shit, so sorry to hear that, Spartan. But there's no doubt that you are the kind of person we need in education right now.

Our kids were lucky in that they generally had really good, caring teachers, ones who we stay in contact with, who our kids go visit when they are home from college, and who remain committed to them and are interested in their lives and development.

That said, it breaks our hearts to hear about the growing number of kids, especially in junior high and high school, who are victims of suicide these days. It truly is an epidemic that not enough people are talking about and working to address. After 2 or 3 kids committed suicide literally at the school last year, the person who lives across the street from the junior high in our town put a big panel on the fence that you see when you pull out of the parking lot. It just says, "You Matter". That hits me right in the heart every time I see it.

 

Thank you for the kind words (everyone, honestly). I didn’t realize how emotionally drained I was until I got to school today and just struggled to get going. Everything you all have said just feels very humbling right now and I’ve appreciated it.

But I don’t know if I was intentionally selling myself short, but really appreciative to have a partner teacher like the one I have. She’s 30 years in, just has the biggest heart for students and really keeps teaching me so much.

 

We can't save them all.

But we can try.

I send love.

 

Sounds like you connected to her to the extent she was going to connect with you and that was pretty significant. Sometimes it's not about your students soaking in the information you're offering so much as they are getting something from you that fires up their brains and makes them want to do more, to be more. She got that from you. Moreover, she knew something good happened when she was in your class and she wanted you to be pleased by what she did. You were, so that circle got closed, so to speak.

Sometimes your circumstances, who you are, might put you at a disadvantage with some students. You reach them how you can reach them, and you did with this child