A Teacher Never Leaves You

This morning was a very good morning. Despite the fact that one of my closest people at the school is leaving and moving back to South Africa, I witnessed something wonderful today. I went out this morning to walk across town, eat breakfast, have coffee and ice cream, and just generally take a million pictures with my friend and three of our mutual students. I explained that in the United States, this was not a thing. To be wandering around town with three minors, even if they are your students, is deemed inappropriate. I am still trying to get used to the difference in how everything works here. Anyways, we went out and as we were walking back, two of the students had written a letter to my friend explaining how much they would miss him and how much he meant to them. One of my students had a line in their letter that said, "Teachers never fully leave their students, because they stay with their students forever." This letter wasn't even to me, but I found myself fighting back tears, as I thought about all of the students who I've left behind and the fact that I wrote almost the exact same thing when I left my former school a year and a half ago. I wrote something to the likes of, "While we won't be together there will be a piece of me with you always, and a piece of you with me that helped to repair my shattered heart." 

It helped me put things back in perspective for a second. When people find out I teach middle school, they always ask me, "Why?!" in a rather shocked way. I understand the reaction, because I feel that way frequently. It is a horrifically difficult job sometimes. It is the time in your life when you are just starting to really question the idea of authority and become VERY vocal about it. It is also a time when your brain is trimming synapses WHILE you go through puberty. And don't even get me started on the whole, "Who do I want to be when I grow up?" thing OR the boyfriend-girlfriend thing that starts here. It is an incredibly stressful time in a young person's life, and that makes it doubly stressful for the adults in your life trying to get you through it unscathed...

I always described my need to teach middle school like this: It's sometimes like working triage in a hospital emergency room. When I worked in an underserved district, it's sole purpose was to build kids back up after they had been told their entire lives that they would amount to nothing. It was to build their confidence and know that they were loved by their teacher, even if they were difficult. I still have that here, but the problems are different. When you're like me it's still like triage, just a different kind. There are kids who have all the support in the world, and then the ones who have the wrong kind of support, and the ones who have none. The point is, whichever student you are, your teachers never do leave you. Horribly enough, even the ones who hurt you or drove you crazy will stay with you. 

One thing moving to Morocco has taught me, is that my students from back in the U.S. actually still remember me (and remember me fondly, surprislingly enough in some cases!) I have had so many messages from so many former students just to say hi. And not just the "good ones" but the students who were difficult beyond belief. Students who I used to speak about and think, "God, that kid was a pain..." have messaged me through Facebook to see how I'm doing and let me know that I made a difference in their lives. Which, to be quite plain, has me shook. The strangest thing, though? Is the fact that even though these students were the bane of my existence when they were young, I find myself thinking, "I'm so glad to hear from them and that they're doing well!"

The moral? Your teachers never do forget you (the good ones at least). We will always wonder what happened to each student who passed through our doors. We will always ponder if you are okay, if you have done well with your life, if you ever got through whatever hardships we witnessed. You will always be our kids. You will always be a piece of our hearts. I will always wonder about the two best friends I had in 6th and 7th grade who will be 11th graders this year. How are they doing? Are they okay? I willl always wonder about how the girl, also an 11th grader, is doing and how she has fared in a different school. I will always hope for their best interest and pray that they are supported. However, even if they are struggling, I have faith that there is a little piece of  me still there, telling them that they can do this. A small voice inside their head telling them that I know they are wonderful, even if they don't at that moment. I hope that my loud, boisterous voice is in their head saying, "You got this, kiddo! Now go conquer the world!" Realistically, I hope that all of my students, former and current, can hear my voice saying that when they need it. I also hope they know that I mean it with all of my heart and soul. I know you. I see you. I believe in you. Now go out and conquer the world, kiddos.