Not off the Radar Completely

I received an email from one of my former students today. Well, to call it an email would be stretching. She was clearly texting - or at least I hope so given the poor spelling and brevity. I was touched that a seventeen-year-old would think to send a message to her English teacher. She wrote, "Mrs. Curl how r U?" We volleyed back and forth and she told me she was bored, missed school (skool) and missed having me as a teacher. I was touched and I will admit it helped my sagging optimism. Surely, something will come through.



The first of day of post-planning I was taking a few things out to my car. It was one of those early, humid, hot days in Georgia when you spend as little time outside as possible. Walking out to my car, I passed a young man pushing a dolly loaded down with cardboard boxes. I presumed he was a delivery person of a sort. When I returned to my classroom, the same young man I had passed in the parking lot was unloading his dolly in my classroom. Awkward. I inquired helpfully, "Can I help you?" He looked worried and said "No, Mrs. (we'll call her "Smith") wanted to send some things over. Is this your old classroom?" I realized that my replacement was moving in. "It soon will be." I replied. To his credit, he immediately took stock of the situation and apologized. "I'm sorry...I..." I smiled. "It's okay. I was a late hire so..." He finished my sentence, "So you weren't re-contracted. I'm really sorry." It turns out this twenty-three-year-old had planned on teaching himself when he got frustrated that he was not getting a job so he applied for a job with the school system. Now he's delivering boxes for other teachers and making more than I am. Hmmm. I was doing well until this point. I had not cried, even when my fifth period students threw me a surprise party. I was so close to getting out the door without an outward show of emotion then this kid shows up with his dolly and says; "I don't mean to get personal, but are you religious?" I said yes. He continued, "I really believe that God puts us where we're meant to be." He pointed to my white board where my students had left me farewell love notes. "Clearly they love you. You'll get something else. You just have to put it God's hands." It was at that moment, to my utter horror, that in front of this relative stranger I burst into tears. I thanked him and ran out of the room.

Many teachers are loved by some of their students. Many teachers are remembered for one reason or another by their students. I realize it does not make me an exceptional teacher nor does it necessarily speak to my abilities in the classroom. What it does speak to are the connections that are made every day by classroom teachers. I think those connections are what keep many of us in the profession despite the poor pay, despite the uncertainty, and despite whatever issues. That's what brought the tears that day; the connections I would lose.