After All These Years

It was a really good first day for the school year.  Students were lost, teachers were nervous, and I was very busy.  I was afraid that this would be one of those days that I wouldn't have anything to add to the blog.  Then I was face to face with the past, when I was helping students find their classes.  A young lady had an embarrassing situation happen to her and wanted to hide.  While I was helping her, I was transported to the eyes of that kindergarten boy.

Yesterday, I admitted to one of the strongest lessons of my career.  The fact that it happened on the first day of my career made it even more poignant, at least to me.  That is because I carried that lesson with me for a long time.  I went over that situation in my mind, admonishing my lack of action and wishing I had the opportunity to fix what I had done.  I believed that I had scarred that young man for life.

I know that the boy was in my class that year.  I know that he was in my class for the next two years while I was at Whitney Young, but I don't remember one other interaction with him.  It may have been my guilt blocking anything else that had to do with him.

Karma has a way of creeping up on you at times you least expect it.  It was the first day of school again, about six years later.  At this point I was teaching English at North Side High School.  That year I was assigned freshman.  I hadn't taught anything but seniors and juniors in the previous years since coming to North.  As usual, I was at the door greeting my new students, somewhat fearful of what freshman might do to me.  And there, laughing as he entered, was a familiar face.  The kindergarten boy whom I had traumatized!

I did all the procedures that were required that first day.  I introduced myself, but in the middle of the introduction, the kindergarten boy's hand shot up.  I acknowledged him, even though I didn't really want to hear what he had to say.  With great exuberance he asked me, "Hey, didn't you teach PE at Whitney Young?"  He remembered!  What do I do now!

 I decided that I  might as well confess and take it. "I did, for three years."  I am sure that I visibly winced as I waited for his reaction.

He turned to his friend, "I had the best time in his class.  He taught me how to do back handsprings."  He beamed over that.  I waited for the rest.  There was no more.  In fact, I had him in senior English three years later, and the incident never came up. I guess what I learned from this was that young people are resilient.  Sometimes teachers aren't.