The Last Days

Last Friday I depressed you with my story about my “baby”, my favorite student. The funny thing is, I had just come back from a fantastic field trip to Busch Gardens with some of the best and brightest of Enfield. But I couldn’t get the retention meeting out of my head. As I was catching up with a good friend that night, I couldn’t help but get choked up as I told him the story of Bobby. I worried all weekend, and showed up Monday morning expecting some answers and a chance to talk to Bobby. I reported to my morning duty post at 7:25, where the same 200 students walk by me everyday on their way to breakfast. Bobby is usually one of those 200. But when I didn’t see him with the rest of the boys from his bus, I had a sinking suspicion that something had happened on Friday.

Twenty minutes later, as I stood at my classroom door greeting my homeroom students, my suspicion was confirmed: Bobby was suspended for the rest of the year for fighting on Friday. The girls in my class swear it wasn’t his fault, that another student came up to him and instigated, and that Bobby refused to take the bait at first. I felt a small sense of pride hearing them recount the event. Although they could have been biased and painted it in a different light, I honestly believe that Bobby has learned something this year and may have even thought of how much it would disappoint Miss H if he got in trouble. Regardless, something happened that got him in trouble as well, and it took everything in me not to tear up when I realized that I wouldn’t see him again until August. I was mostly upset that I wouldn’t get to prepare him for the reality that could soon be his: retention in the 7th grade. But there was nothing I could do, so I took a deep breath and braced myself for a crazy week.

Monday and Tuesday were relatively normal days. We had an awards ceremony Monday afternoon and a celebration for the kids who participated in the reading fair Tuesday afternoon, so both of those days felt easier than most. Then came the whopper: Wednesday, the last day. My roommates and I hopped around the house that morning with big smiles on our faces. We said over and over again, “If we made it through 179 other days, we can certainly make it through one more.”

That was very nearly a false statement.

Wednesday was one of the hardest days of the year. The only thing that made it easier was knowing that freedom was so close. Eighth grade promotion was in the morning, and because of space limitations, we were not allowed to go. Starting around 8:30, parents began arriving to the school, and because our classrooms have doors to the outside, my kids kept yelling, “Oh there go my mamma! There go my auntie! I need to go talk to my cousin!” and running out the door. I had prepared awards and baked cupcakes for my homeroom, and allowed them to act crazy because I knew I only had to survive one more class period with them, ever. Until at 9:10, when they were all packed up and high on sugar, I was informed that we were not switching classes all day.

Almost five more hours with those same kids that I had let run wild, thinking I’d be rid of them in 90 minutes. Great.

After promotion, 8th graders and their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and other “grown folks” were wandering the halls, once again encouraging my students’ desire to flee the classroom. I had to lock my door to keep random people from entering my classroom, and chased many of my kids back into the room when they decided to leave. It was complete and utter chaos, and there was no end in sight. I looked at the clock and it was only 10:15….10:43….11:20…still two more hours until lunch! My kids were having a dance party, playing cards, watching videos on the computer, texting, and of course, wandering the halls. I eventually gave up, sat myself at my desk, and started working on this blog, catching up on others, and scanning the news headlines. The day was so anticlimactic. By the end of the day, I was too annoyed and exhausted to truly appreciate the freedom that was mine. And I had a meeting with new Teach for America Corps Members right after school, so there wasn’t even much time to process what was going on. .

The beauty of it all really hit Thursday morning. Although I still woke up before 7:00, it was a full hour later than usual, and it felt good to “sleep in”. My workday was very productive, and everyone was in a good mood. I spent the majority of today doing paperwork with my 7th grade team members—we like to turn everything into a social event. We sat around, groomed the students’ cumulative folders, and chatted, joked, sang, etc. The women that I work with are one of the main reasons that I love my job so much, and I am starting to get sad as I think about next year. My mentor teacher and my saving grace, Mrs. Wiggins, will be leaving to pursue the final part of her masters in school leadership. Mrs. Robinson is moving over to the elective team to work with AVID (Advancement Via Individual Determination—an elective created for hard-working students in low income schools who are on track for college), and Ms. Mason is debating whether or not she wants to stay. I know that at the end of next week, when we all say goodbye for the summer, I’ll be crying my eyes out, whether at school or when I get home. I would never, ever have grown so much as a teacher and a person this year without my team.

I found out today as I was stuffing the cumulative folders that Bobby has been selected for promotion to the 8th grade. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the sense of relief that I thought I would. Instead, I felt wistfulness about having to let him go, and fear knowing that no other teacher in his life may ever stay on him like I did, believe in him like I do, or love him despite his ability to drive anyone absolutely crazy. It breaks my heart to think of such potential lost. I’m sure I’ll poke my head into his classes next year to check on him, and I’ll still give him a stern talkin’ to when I know he’s not on his A-game. And I can't help but wish I had done more for him. But really all I can do now is pray. Bobby has a lot of odds to overcome and a lot of growing up to do, with very little support. What I wouldn’t give to sit at his high school graduation in five years and know he’s headed off to a four-year college, his ticket out of this town and this life.