I'm a crier. I cry. It's what I do when I'm sad. Or happy. Or laughing uncontrollably. I cry when Peter comes home for Christmas on the Folgers commercial. I cry when I hear a song. I always cry when my children are hurting. I often cry when others children are hurting. I cry at weddings. Funerals. As a matter of fact, I cry so easily I've considered offering my services to funerals of those who may not actually have someone to cry at their passing. I think you get the picture.
Today I decided I wouldn't cry. Not because I didn't want to, but because I needed not to. I've tried before not to cry in difficult situations to no avail. Usually when I'm feeling like crying I do. Sometimes at inopportune times, but that's a whole other story.
Today I went to visit a former student. This is something I do occasionally. Especially with students who have wormed their way in to my heart. Those that I see something in that others don't. Those who don't have someone in their corner not just when they're on the ropes, but don't have someone in their corner when the other guy is on the ropes. I've always been a supporter of underdogs.
It's just sometimes, when you really listen to a kid, and notice responses, and figure out how they see the world you can see something special in that kid. All kids are special, but when there's a human connection with kid and I'm lucky enough to see the true potential in that person it brings a rush of emotions: happy, sad, fortunate, gratitude, and worry. Happy because seeing that possible future is truly a gift to me. Sad as usually that very kid rarely can see or feel their potential. Fortunate speaks for itself. Gratitude for the great honor it is to be allowed in to a kids life. Especially a kid who has no reason to trust yet another 'well-meaning' adult.
Back to today. It was a first for me. The former student I visited was in a locked juvenile facility. And it's not pretty there. Upon arrival and after going through a metal detector I had to lock up my phone, purse, coat, keys...did I mention my phone?...in a locker. I can't tell you the last time I was not in the same room as my phone. This is a sidebar to the story, but, it was unnerving to leave it. I was escorted through two secured doors to a long stairway, that led to a long hallway in the basement of the building. We then walked through another locked door to an 'interview' room.
I sat down in the sparse salmon-ish pink room with mismatched chairs, a dirty table, and no clock. I believed I was locked in the room. I later found out I was not. I could hear all the commotion in the hall way, someone talking on the phone and saw youth detainees walk by my window with an escort (guard).
I waited for a long while for T to come in. I didn't know what to expect. I only knew him for about two months, but I told him even if he was no longer 'my' student, I would continue to advocate for him. I lost track of him for over three months. When I finally found where he was I had to get approved to see him. And I waited, having no idea what time it was. The T walked in with a smile that was not forced but not genuine either. And he asked how I had been. And I hugged him. I came to see him and he asks how I have been. This kid, who's been locked up for over two months with NO visitors. Who is now in what is called lockdown (meaning he only gets out of his room for one hour a day for recreation or letter writing). This kid asks how I am doing.
I wanted to cry...but I didn't.
Today I decided I wouldn't cry. Not because I didn't want to, but because I needed not to. I've tried before not to cry in difficult situations to no avail. Usually when I'm feeling like crying I do. Sometimes at inopportune times, but that's a whole other story.
Today I went to visit a former student. This is something I do occasionally. Especially with students who have wormed their way in to my heart. Those that I see something in that others don't. Those who don't have someone in their corner not just when they're on the ropes, but don't have someone in their corner when the other guy is on the ropes. I've always been a supporter of underdogs.
It's just sometimes, when you really listen to a kid, and notice responses, and figure out how they see the world you can see something special in that kid. All kids are special, but when there's a human connection with kid and I'm lucky enough to see the true potential in that person it brings a rush of emotions: happy, sad, fortunate, gratitude, and worry. Happy because seeing that possible future is truly a gift to me. Sad as usually that very kid rarely can see or feel their potential. Fortunate speaks for itself. Gratitude for the great honor it is to be allowed in to a kids life. Especially a kid who has no reason to trust yet another 'well-meaning' adult.
Back to today. It was a first for me. The former student I visited was in a locked juvenile facility. And it's not pretty there. Upon arrival and after going through a metal detector I had to lock up my phone, purse, coat, keys...did I mention my phone?...in a locker. I can't tell you the last time I was not in the same room as my phone. This is a sidebar to the story, but, it was unnerving to leave it. I was escorted through two secured doors to a long stairway, that led to a long hallway in the basement of the building. We then walked through another locked door to an 'interview' room.
I sat down in the sparse salmon-ish pink room with mismatched chairs, a dirty table, and no clock. I believed I was locked in the room. I later found out I was not. I could hear all the commotion in the hall way, someone talking on the phone and saw youth detainees walk by my window with an escort (guard).
I waited for a long while for T to come in. I didn't know what to expect. I only knew him for about two months, but I told him even if he was no longer 'my' student, I would continue to advocate for him. I lost track of him for over three months. When I finally found where he was I had to get approved to see him. And I waited, having no idea what time it was. The T walked in with a smile that was not forced but not genuine either. And he asked how I had been. And I hugged him. I came to see him and he asks how I have been. This kid, who's been locked up for over two months with NO visitors. Who is now in what is called lockdown (meaning he only gets out of his room for one hour a day for recreation or letter writing). This kid asks how I am doing.
I wanted to cry...but I didn't.
