I was driving along 27th Street yesterday and spotted a group of teenage boys walking in a pack on the sidewalk. I would have driven right by without a second thought, but a certain red hoodie caught my eye. A red hoodie I had seen every single day last school year by one of my students. I knew it was him and I actually hit my brakes, trying to slow down and catch a glimpse. Who was he with? Where they headed? Were they getting into trouble?
I sound like a total stalker, right? Or at the very least, an overprotective mother. But honestly, I never run into my former students in Lincoln. Ever. It's one of the worst parts of teaching. I build relationships with students for a year or sometimes two. I hear their struggles. I know what they love. I read with them and laugh with them. And then I never see them again.
It doesn't help that I have insomnia so I slept my nights pondering the most asinine things. Is Livon still playing basketball? And is anyone coming to support him if he is? Is Brooklyn making friends in high school? Does Maday still write in a journal every day? I bet she has a boyfriend. I hope he's good to her. Is Leo's mom still sick? I hope he's able to keep up with school after taking care of his siblings. Does Angel still get in trouble for wearing his hood up? And do his teachers laugh as much at his jokes as I did?
I can't keep track of all the students I teach. They aren't all wearing red hoodies on major streets. And the number I have taught is always growing. Most of the kids won't remember me either. In the years I do have them, though, I want to make sure they know I care. Every day we come in as teachers and plan a lesson and give feedback and ask questions and call them by their names, we are showing we care a lot. I will keep working to make the moments count.
No comments:
Post a Comment