i had to say goodbye to one of my students today.
his family has an amazing story. they were being persecuted in their passport country. they barely escaped to thailand and started over with nothing. for the last five years they've been living here, the kids attending grace and trying to get asylum in the united states. it all finally went through a few days ago. i learned he was leaving yesterday afternoon. and i have kept up a pretty steady diet of tears ever since (though not in front of the kids--just in case you're worried that they've had to put up with a soppy, red-eyed crazy teacher!).
i hate the fact that will not see him again this year. i hate that my time with him is done--just like that. he was just learning to push himself in school and think more critically and live with more empathy. i don't think he needs me. i just love being part of his journey. i love it every day.
even after a lifetime of constant and consistent goodbyes, i STILL don't do well with them. i'm a strong believer in doing them right. but i still hate them.
i am so very sad. i know email and facebook and skype exist. i know this is an opportunity for his family that is necessary and miraculous. but i also know i am so sad to lose a student overnight. obviously, if it was up to me, i would only add students and never let any present ones go!
but here's what i can give him: i can teach him how to say goodbye. i at least can offer that to him. after all, i'm an expert from a lot of experience. i sat with him yesterday afternoon during study hall. together we wrote 'a plan on leaving.' i stressed the importance of apologizing for any hurts caused, the necessity of thanking those who had a positive influence on him, the value of saying goodbye to people AND places, and finally the joy of looking forward at all the good to come. he made a T chart of what he would miss in thailand and all that he was looking forward to in the move.
he struggles to be serious. he loves having fun. i told him that will get him through a lot in life! but i also was direct: his life as he's known it will drastically change overnight. he's had very little prep time and it is vital for him to acknowledge the hugeness of all that's happening. he told me tears feared him! i laughed and said he didn't need to cry to have huge emotions, but he DID have to acknowledge. if we go through life not recognizing what's happening to us and not naming it, we are people out of touch with ourselves, our lives and our God.
we had an impromptu party for him. the day coincided with 'pi day,' which meant yummy pies! a fellow student made a huge chocolate cake and a sweet mom brought in a tray of cookies and brownies. in all the craziness of the day, it whirled to a close too fast. everyone signed his yearbook and i wrote him a note folded into an origami e.
i told him i was proud of him and that i would miss him. he skipped away for the last time and i went back to being a seven-year-old. back to having to say yet another goodbye, closing up a relationship stretched across oceans, back to having no control over the pain. i cried because i know despite all the good in his life, there's also confusion and homesickness and sorrow in store for him.
his family has an amazing story. they were being persecuted in their passport country. they barely escaped to thailand and started over with nothing. for the last five years they've been living here, the kids attending grace and trying to get asylum in the united states. it all finally went through a few days ago. i learned he was leaving yesterday afternoon. and i have kept up a pretty steady diet of tears ever since (though not in front of the kids--just in case you're worried that they've had to put up with a soppy, red-eyed crazy teacher!).
i hate the fact that will not see him again this year. i hate that my time with him is done--just like that. he was just learning to push himself in school and think more critically and live with more empathy. i don't think he needs me. i just love being part of his journey. i love it every day.
even after a lifetime of constant and consistent goodbyes, i STILL don't do well with them. i'm a strong believer in doing them right. but i still hate them.
i am so very sad. i know email and facebook and skype exist. i know this is an opportunity for his family that is necessary and miraculous. but i also know i am so sad to lose a student overnight. obviously, if it was up to me, i would only add students and never let any present ones go!
but here's what i can give him: i can teach him how to say goodbye. i at least can offer that to him. after all, i'm an expert from a lot of experience. i sat with him yesterday afternoon during study hall. together we wrote 'a plan on leaving.' i stressed the importance of apologizing for any hurts caused, the necessity of thanking those who had a positive influence on him, the value of saying goodbye to people AND places, and finally the joy of looking forward at all the good to come. he made a T chart of what he would miss in thailand and all that he was looking forward to in the move.
he struggles to be serious. he loves having fun. i told him that will get him through a lot in life! but i also was direct: his life as he's known it will drastically change overnight. he's had very little prep time and it is vital for him to acknowledge the hugeness of all that's happening. he told me tears feared him! i laughed and said he didn't need to cry to have huge emotions, but he DID have to acknowledge. if we go through life not recognizing what's happening to us and not naming it, we are people out of touch with ourselves, our lives and our God.
we had an impromptu party for him. the day coincided with 'pi day,' which meant yummy pies! a fellow student made a huge chocolate cake and a sweet mom brought in a tray of cookies and brownies. in all the craziness of the day, it whirled to a close too fast. everyone signed his yearbook and i wrote him a note folded into an origami e.
i told him i was proud of him and that i would miss him. he skipped away for the last time and i went back to being a seven-year-old. back to having to say yet another goodbye, closing up a relationship stretched across oceans, back to having no control over the pain. i cried because i know despite all the good in his life, there's also confusion and homesickness and sorrow in store for him.
he's done what he can in this short breath of time. we've done what we can. so now the awful goodbyes have been said, we acknowledge the pain, and we continue being present for those still here.
goodbye, elijah. i will miss you greatly.
