Are You Listening?

Not long ago I shouted from the rooftops about a student who has just ripped open my chest, reached right into my heart, and grabbed ahold of my beating ticker. She is more than a thousand kinds of amazing. I get to have the luxury of complaining about my job, but I have a job so I know I should stop doing that. I also have the luxury (or curse? is it a curse?) of really enjoying some parts of my job. For instance, a former student stopped by yesterday to show me her new baby. She let me squeeze her bundle of joy and smell her and I kicked off my shoes in my office and got right down on the floor to enjoy this new life. To an outsider, it looked as if I’d lost my mind but this is what babies do to me. I’m extremely happy for her and I keep encouraging her to continue her education.

“I’m going to give you some advice,” I said. “Are you listening?”

She nodded and smiled a knowing smile that said You ALWAYS have advice.

“Sleep when the baby sleeps. Smell her and cuddle her and give her massages after her bath. Read to her every single day. Possibly sing to her. Can you sing? Do you have a decent voice? It doesn’t matter. Do it anyway. She’ll know she’s loved.”

I was a high school parent myself. By the time I graduated high school my daughter was three years old. (Don’t. I know what you want to ask me. The answer is I DON’T KNOW HOW I DID IT.) Why did no one  at my school ever give me this kind of advice? It doesn’t matter anymore because I learned it on my own and did it anyway. I probably talked to Mallory like she was an adult and not a baby which made sense to me at the time and explains why she’s always been a little adult even as a 1st grader.

My recent post was a direct result of me worrying about telling these stories about students and I think, after listening to the advice in the comments, that I’m over it. How will people ever know, I wonder, about the magnificent human beings we come in contact with if I don’t highlight these jewels of my work day?

There are these kids, these students, that just jump right off the page of life into every spare moment of my life. Lots of them. I have all these little notes stuck everywhere.

There’s the kid who says, “Good morning!” to me every day and nods his head ever so slightly as to resemble an Englishman heading to Sunday church. Cracks me up. I don’t know why.

There’s the kid who checks out my outfits every day and gives the “Yeah, I like” or the “Nah, it’s not workin’ for you” look. I tease her about giving me crap now.

There’s the kid who has a pronounced limp and a killer smile. He’s happy in life despite physical limitations.

There’s the kid I say hello to and on occasion he responds. Mostly, he ignores me because I know he’s just sad all the time. Twice now he’s reached right out to hug me. I don’t know what that’s about but he needs something.

There’s the kid who comes to visit my office daily who likes to harass me about putting him in the “hard classes”. (To which I just smugly respond, “YOU’RE WELCOME. YOU’LL THANK ME SOMEDAY.”)

There’s the kid who beckons me with her finger when I visit a classroom because she wants me to sit by her and help her understand the text. Even when she already understands the text.

There’s the kid who talks to me about her favorite coffee that she brings in her thermos every day.

Here is Clarissa’s story. For once, I’m not using a fake name because it’s a story published with her permission in the newspaper. It also happens to be a story of a friend, Tammy, who taught with me at a middle school ten years ago. My teaching experience has been a lucky one in that I’ve met some incredible educators who turn into friends for life. (Also? For some reason a lot of my teacher friends are named Tammy which is why I call them all by their last names to avoid confusion. It makes us all sound like a bunch of gym teachers.)

There are just these amazing kids I get to teach and guide. I’m listening to them. I hope you will, too. Don’t miss it.