Suitcase
A few of the form one girls were asking me at lunch yesterday when their final exams were taking place. I said it wouldn’t be until December. “December?!” they replied. I explained that the last day of school was on December 10 so, yes, their final exams wouldn’t be until December.
Suzane said, “That’s when we’ll say goodbye to you, December 10. Your last day.” I hadn’t even been thinking about that when I mentioned that day; after all, they were asking about final exams.
“Don’t say that!” Naeku, one of my favorite students, said. I kind of laughed, trying to keep the conversation light. Naeku tried too. She started to ask another question, presumably about final exams, but before her first word even got out, she abruptly turned around and walked away from the conversation. At that, my eyes started to tear up.
I’ve only cried once before in front of my students, when we were reading Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes as a class. When the young non-fiction heroine dies at the end (don’t worry – this fact is mentioned in the back of the book as well as in the prologue so I’m not giving anything away), I couldn’t help myself. I recall my eyes welling up when I was reading it on my own, but inside the classroom, when I heard the gasps of shock and sadness coming from students, there was no way of stopping the tears from falling.
So the students know what I look like when I’m about to cry, which is how I looked yesterday at lunch standing among form one girls with Naeku walking away. Nabulu smiled kindly and said, “Don’t cry, teacher.”
Scott and I have exactly one month left with these students before saying goodbye to them. And while we may be ready to see family and friends and enjoy a slice of America, I don’t think either of us are ready to leave these students. I’ve taught before. I’ve spent long periods of time with students before, but I’ve never been this attached to faces, to smiles, to personalities, to laughs, to handshakes, to certain hellos.
There have been so many moments that I’ve failed to record, small moments with students, exchanges, times they’ve made me laugh, times that have made me fall in love with them, to the point that if I could, I’d take some home with me and do whatever I could to make sure they were happy. The thing is that I can’t even pinpoint how many of them that would be. I’d keep wanting to add to the group.
Suzane said, “That’s when we’ll say goodbye to you, December 10. Your last day.” I hadn’t even been thinking about that when I mentioned that day; after all, they were asking about final exams.
“Don’t say that!” Naeku, one of my favorite students, said. I kind of laughed, trying to keep the conversation light. Naeku tried too. She started to ask another question, presumably about final exams, but before her first word even got out, she abruptly turned around and walked away from the conversation. At that, my eyes started to tear up.
I’ve only cried once before in front of my students, when we were reading Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes as a class. When the young non-fiction heroine dies at the end (don’t worry – this fact is mentioned in the back of the book as well as in the prologue so I’m not giving anything away), I couldn’t help myself. I recall my eyes welling up when I was reading it on my own, but inside the classroom, when I heard the gasps of shock and sadness coming from students, there was no way of stopping the tears from falling.
So the students know what I look like when I’m about to cry, which is how I looked yesterday at lunch standing among form one girls with Naeku walking away. Nabulu smiled kindly and said, “Don’t cry, teacher.”
Scott and I have exactly one month left with these students before saying goodbye to them. And while we may be ready to see family and friends and enjoy a slice of America, I don’t think either of us are ready to leave these students. I’ve taught before. I’ve spent long periods of time with students before, but I’ve never been this attached to faces, to smiles, to personalities, to laughs, to handshakes, to certain hellos.
There have been so many moments that I’ve failed to record, small moments with students, exchanges, times they’ve made me laugh, times that have made me fall in love with them, to the point that if I could, I’d take some home with me and do whatever I could to make sure they were happy. The thing is that I can’t even pinpoint how many of them that would be. I’d keep wanting to add to the group.
posted by Siapiau | 6:59 AM
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