I always feel the loss.

A student I adore sent me this email today:

Hi Ms. Teachin' -

I'm going to be leaving the school to live with my dad. I know it would be better if I just waited to the end of the school year but that probably wont happen. I just wanted to thank you for all of the support you gave me, it means a lot to me. Hopefully I'll be able to see you again but if I don't, Bye.

Apparently she ditched one day last week, and her mom decided she was done; washed her hands of her daughter. Her beautiful, intelligent, hard-working, sweet, amazing daughter, who sometimes makes mistakes since she's, you know, a KID.

Sigh.

Although I think living with her dad will be better for her (she's a lot happier when she interacts with her dad and much more nervous around her mom), I'm so sad that it's happening so close to the end of her last year in the school. It's just one more month - I'm really hoping she'll be able to find transportation back (that's the issue apparently) for such a short time frame.

I emailed her back right away to say how much I'd miss her and how much I hope it works out....she's a fabulous, fabulous, fabulous kid who really will change the world.

This is what's hardest for me about my school, bar none - the mobility. It comes with the poverty, I get that, but it's so heartbreaking to watch kids I love leave....and it happens all the time. The Charmer. DC. BB Bob. The Eyeliner Queen. The Natural Athlete. Slick. The Goofball. Kids I adore, kids I worked so hard to reach, kids who learned and grew and changed and were the better for having been in my class (at least mostly)....and they're all gone. And I'll probably never see most of them again.

I have to believe that at least some of the changes are for the best, and that they'll be okay no matter what (and they will, they will, I know that), and that they did learn something in my class, and that they end up okay. But it's hard to watch them leave and know it might be the last time.

They're good kids. They deserve the best. They deserve to be in good situations and I hope they are, I hope they're in better situations than before, I hope they find some stability and happiness.

But I miss them.

I hope she keeps in touch.

(Image credit to Eisenheim.)

Hate's in the past.

Siobhan Curious had a post recently in which she asked her readers what they’d learned from their most challenging student. My most challenging student…oh, he sucked. He sucked hard. Or at least our relationship sucked, for a looooooooong time.

The issues began in January. My school had a lot of issues this year with truancy (I know. In sixth grade. Atrocious, right?) and one day, Slick decided to join in. He and three of his friends ditched. Which wouldn’t have been SO bad, except they also decided to throw rocks. Through windows. Of houses. And then they ended up with felony charges.

The kids involved were suspended for a week, post-ditching (because THAT’S a punishment), and when they came back, we were told to not treat them any differently than any other kids. Okay, fine. It’s not like I’d been planning on some sort of public self-flagellation, but I’d make every effort to treat Slick and his pals just like everyone else.

Apparently, Slick didn’t feel I was following through. Slick felt I was singling him out by doing things like calling on him during class for the answer to a question, or by asking him where his homework was when he didn’t have it out. I got a lot of pained sighs and rolled eyes, ignoring me when I asked him questions, refusing to follow directions.

And here’s the thing. That doesn’t fly in my class. Ain’t nobody going to treat me with that kind of disrespect.

But Slick was, and because of the edict to treat him like everyone else, I let it slide for a couple of days, despite that fact that I was absolutely treating him differently by being easier on him than I normally would have been. My back? Bent over to make sure this delicate tulip didn’t feel awkward.

I talked to Slick about it. I talked to his mom about it. I talked to my colleagues and my admin about it. After about two weeks of his jackassery, I set up a parent meeting, and the rest of my core came too, as he’d been giving them all kinds of crap as well. In the meeting, I made it clear that I wanted him to be successful but that I would not stand for him undermining me in front of his peers. Subtext: if he wanted to fight, we could fight, but I would win. His mom agreed that was not okay, and it got better. Mostly. One day he did attempt to turn in a paper by shaking it in my face, but after a brief chat, he reluctantly acknowledged that he’d made an inappropriate choice and would not do so again.

A few months passed, and Slick was absent for over a week, unexcused. I asked his class if anyone knew what was up. The Natural Athlete piped up with, “Maybe he’s ditching because he hates your class so much.” I silenced him with a look, and then asked him to join me in the hall. We discussed how it’s probably not the best idea to tell a teacher how bad their class sucks during class, to which the Natural Athlete assured me that he loved my class, it was his second favorite, just Slick didn’t like it. We moved on from there, but honestly, I was taken aback. Because the thing is, I thought things had changed. I thought Slick and I had worked through the previous animosity. Recently he’d been joking around with me some, turning in work, doing assignments without repeated requests. So the Natural Athlete’s comment was disappointing.

Slick came back, and still seemed fine. A couple of weeks later, he asked me if I needed any help with anything. He owed community service from the January incident and wanted to serve it with me. Again, taken aback, but I agreed. He started staying after school to help with whatever I needed.

A few hours into the community service, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey, Slick?”

He looked up from his filing. “Yeah?”

“Would you agree that for a while there, you and I weren’t getting along so well?”

He nodded emphatically. “Oh yeah. Absolutely. Really bad.”

“And now, would you say we’re getting along better?”

He nodded even more emphatically. “Yup. Waaaaaay better. Like totally different.”

I paused. “So….what changed? Why are we getting along better now?”

He paused too. “Well…I don’t know.”

“No?”

“Well…I think mostly the difference? The difference is that I kinda grew up and figured some things out.”

What a great response, I thought, but I didn’t want to push it. I nodded. “Got it.” We both went back to work.

As I mentioned before, Thursday was the last day with kids. Slick still needed three community service hours, so he came in on Friday to help me out. After three hours, I signed his card and told him how much I’d appreciated his help. He didn’t move. “So, um, what else do you need help with?”

I looked at him. “Slick, you’re done. You’ve been great, but you can totally go if you want to.”

He fidgeted with a pencil. “I could still help if you need more help. Because, like, I needed the hours, but mostly I just wanted to help.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He stayed for two more hours and is coming back on Tuesday to help me move my room.

This is the kid who hated me more than anyone. This is the kid who made me dread seeing my second period some days, because he could be such an asshole. This is the kid who told the whole class that writing was boring and pointless.

I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how I did it except to treat him with respect and try to be aware when he seemed to be on the verge of shutting down, but somehow, this is a kid I reached. This is a kid who hugged me goodbye on the last day of school. This is a kid who laughs at my corny jokes. This is a kid who says Language Arts is his favorite class now, when he hates reading and writing. This is a kid I reached.

What did I learn from him? Treat everyone with respect. Sometimes you can’t control how people feel about you. Everyone deserves a second, and third, and eighth, and seventeenth chance. Anyone can change, but sometimes you have to change first.

When he learned I was moving to eighth grade, Slick got very quiet. “I wish you weren’t going,” he said.

I smiled at him. “But this way you’ll actually see me more often. My new room is by the seventh grade classrooms.”

“You’re still teaching here? At this school?”

“Of course.”

He visibly relaxed. “Oh. Okay. That’s okay then.”

He hated me most. More than anyone. It’s nice when hate’s in the past, isn’t it?

It's all about the relationships.

After school today, I was talking to one of my administrators who is going back to the classroom next year. He was telling me a story about one of our little charmers, and I said I couldn’t imagine being in admin. The administrator said it had a lot of good parts, but it was definitely different. I agreed – it seems like the student relationships would be so different. I shared the following story with him.

One of my boys came to class this morning looking pretty down. This is a kid who is always good-natured, always friendly, always open. When he doesn’t understand a concept, he flings his arm in the air and says, “I don’t get it.” Language Arts is challenging for him, but he always tries his hardest, always participates, always is polite and respectful and kind. I’ve seen him off before, but usually from a physical issue – the kid’s a natural athlete and fully commits to the moment, so he often comes to class clutching his side or limping from a morning football injury. I fully believe that someday he would throw himself in front of a car rather than miss a pass. But I digress.

Today’s mood was different from what I’d seen before. The Natural Athlete was upset in a different way. “Hey, you okay?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Shrugged again. “No.”

I didn’t push it, but when I saw him staring at his desk five minutes into class while everyone else finished making kites (we’re practicing following directions and then analyzing the directions), I called him over. “Honey, what’s going on? You seem really upset. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

He still didn’t really want to talk, so I switched tactics. “Here’s the thing. You’re kinda freaking me out right now. You just don’t seem okay. I need to know if you’re thinking about hurting yourself in any way.”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Awesome. “Do you want to go talk to Ms. Counselor?” Definite no from him. “Then I need to know what’s going on.”

After some more pushing, I finally asked if it had to do with a relationship. He’s been going out with one of my girls for a few months, so I assumed it was linked to that. He affirmed. I asked if it had ended. He affirmed again, and then poured out the story. They’d been going out for three months, but then she dumped him this morning and he didn’t know why except that she said he talked about sports too much, but he didn’t even talk about sports that much, and now she and all her friends hated him, and he just didn’t know what to do because he was so sad about it all.

Yep. Girls. Always causing problems.

So the Natural Athlete and I talked about relationships, and how they end but new ones are formed, and how he’s a great kid and I’m sure will have no trouble finding a new girlfriend when he’s ready, but he should take his time, and he’ll get there in the end, and it’s hard now but it will get easier. He nodded, and sniffed a bit, and nodded some more.

After we talked, I asked him again about the hurting himself. He said no, he didn’t think he would. But saying you think you won’t hurt yourself isn’t good enough, so I pushed him again about going to see the counselor.

“I don’t want to! I don’t even know her – I don’t want to talk to her about this. I know you.”

Which I get. I wouldn’t want to talk to someone I didn’t know either. But I couldn’t just let this go – the possibility of self-injury isn’t something I take lightly.

“Okay. Here’s the thing. Take some time and think about all this, and then let’s talk this afternoon and we’ll see how you’re doing then. Cool?”

He agreed, and we left it at that. At lunch, I found Ms. Counselor and filled her in. She said that when I talked to him to ask again about if he was thinking about hurting himself.

I stopped him on his way into his reading class. “How’s it going?”

“Better. I’m still kinda sad, but not as sad. She’s not talking to me but whatever.”

“Are you still thinking about hurting yourself?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Cross your heart?”

“Well…I don’t know if I can cross my heart.”

“Yeah, I’m going to need you to go to Ms. Counselor.”

“But I don’t want to!”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But your safety is the most important thing, and I need to make sure you’re safe. You know that, right?”

“Yeah…I guess.”

I looked at him. He was staring at the floor. “Would a piece of candy help you feel better?”

His face lit up. “Yeah!”

So I gave him two Jolly Ranchers, signed his pass, and sent him up.

That’s why I love teaching, and why I don’t want to be an administrator, at least not at this point. I have relationships with these kids that you don’t get if you’re not in the classroom. Yeah, they can be built, and the counselors certainly do build them when they can, but the Natural Athlete trusts me, and that’s why he was willing to tell me what was going on. It’s all about the relationships.