Having taken several days to process, I have gained a bit more perspective on the events that collaborated with one another, creating my hardest day yet.
I am the first to admit that I am what many might refer to as a very emotional, and at times sensitive person. A truth that is magnified without the assistance of ample sleep. I love deeply, which in no way is regrettable; but I do find it comes at a cost. I find myself pouring into people, knowing full well, but fearing that one day, that might not be returned....a costly, but worthwhile, investment when it comes to kids that are waiting to be let down, hurt, and abandoned as past experiences have led them to anticipate.
The one student that I knew from day 1 would give me a run for my money, let's call her Ms. Attitude, or A, played her best cards from the start. Willing or unwillingly, I know not, A entered my classroom convinced that it was her duty to bring drama, attitude, and full-on confrontation, as was her usual style. Adorned with the latest and most fashionable protective shield, she was ready to dish out much more than she herself could ever handle. I had to believe that there was more to this chilling exterior. It took me no time at all to realize, that if I did nothing else this year, I had to get to the heart of the matter...this clearly broken heart which I had no doubt was at the bottom if it all.
Speaking of broken heart, my heart broke exactly 15 times Friday morning as I opened my mailbox. As I glanced through the progress reports that had been placed there for me in my box labeled "tutor", I couldn't help but think, "If they only knew..." Tutor, implying a quick fix, a mere remedial step on the way to success. I couldn't help but revisit my job description in my mind; so much of my job is unlisted, unseen, which is where both the beauty and the confusion lie.
The ache in my chest began to grow as I scanned the grades of the kids I have quickly begun to call "mine". How could I have let this happen, I thought to myself. If I thought I could save each student in each class, I was a fool. After a day of self-abusive thoughts, begging myself to find a way to fix what was broken, I realized just that....there is no quick fix. I am no saint, nor am I all-knowing. I did know, however, that of all the students, A was truly on my heart. Though many of my students had a few bad grades in classes, she was failing all but one class. She had taken on too daunting of a course load, upon her ever-persistent and demanding request of the former teacher. As she was accustomed, she received exactly what she asked and is now drowning, trying to cling to anything that can save her.
I as I prayed that I was that life saver that she chose to cling to, I knew I had to change her schedule. I had to set her up for success and not failure. After talking with teachers, administrators, parent, and A herself, I found myself more overwhelmed than ever before. Some teachers did not want her in their classes, believing that she lacked respect, knowledge, and a will to work. I understood, I knew how they saw it, I really did because I too had seen it...but I wanted them to see the rest, the most beautiful part of her that had been revealed through our unusually honest conversations within the past few days. I truly believe A saw how much it hurt me too, to take her out of classes with peers, unexpectedly throwing her into classes that I prayed would serve to provide more attainable goals for both her and I. I saw the look, the look that screamed out, "NOT YOU TOO...Don't give up on me, I really can do it!" I have to believe that in some way, this is what a parent feels. Knowing that I have to hurt her and break her in order to build her back up.
Advocate. –verb (used with object), to speak or write in favor of; support or urge by argument; recommend publicly
This word was preached in my undergrad work. This single word is the reason that I am a teacher. What no one will, or even can teach though, is that advocacy usually means that there is opposition. Someone that doesn't see what you see, feel, or believe, no matter how passionately you do all of these things. I can't force someone to believe that with enough support, a child can achieve much more than even they believe that they can. I can't convince people of the pureness of some one's heart that select few have actually seen. I can't fix the years of stigma that have built up because of behavior that likely stems from a small fraction of the stress poured over from a single mom who barely speaks English, the fear of rejection, the expectation of constant failure, and the lack of ever seeing otherwise. I can, however, give a gentle hug, as a hold back tears and tell my student that it's going to be OK, as I try ever-so-hard to convince myself of the same.
My assistant, let's call her K, listened ever so patiently to my words, translating the meaning in between sniffles and the glistening of tears. She voiced the simple, by profound words as I watched A walk away, "She's going to be our success story...Just wait"; I smiled through the tears, because I knew, this simply couldn't be wrong.
At the heart of it all,
Ms. Phillips
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