That Was Not You

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Although I couldn't sustain it beyond a year's time, I have great admiration for the teaching profession. Those who make it their career should be praised, thanked, honored and well-paid because they are essential to one of the most fundamental building blocks of our society - education. I don't see how they do it year-in and year-out, but God love them for it.

For me, one of the major frustrations was seldom seeing the fruits of my labor. Teachers rarely know their impact because they often are not privy to the later outcomes in their students' lives. The incubation period for influence, planted in a time of unrivaled hormonal chaos and impishness, can sometimes stretch years before coming to fruition. For the most part, there's no need to wait by the mailbox for a letter of recognition. It won't be coming.

However, there are moments in teaching (even if you can only count them on one hand) when you know without a shadow of a doubt that you have touched a student and helped transform a life. I had one such experience during my year at Eastside.

There was a girl in one of my American history classes that I will describe, for lack of a better term, as a stereotypical "redneck." Her hair was dyed black and somewhat greasy with bangs so long they covered her eyes. She had a haughty countenance with an expression of a constant sneer, her lips raised on one side very much like Elvis Presley used to do. Although her classwork indicated she was plenty intelligent, she went out of her way to project a disinterest in anything I said or did. I would have pegged her a loner, but she had a posse of friends. Whenever I saw them around campus, they were to themselves, always standoffish and suspect of the normal goings on.

One Friday evening, the Pep Club was holding a "sock hop" to raise money for its various projects. As the faculty adviser, I stayed after school to assist in getting the gym decorated and setting up the sound equipment for the music. Once the time came for the dance to start, Frank Sutherland, the assistant principal, and I took up a post at the front entrance of the school to sell admission tickets. The school policy was to hire a police officer to monitor all night functions and he joined us there.

From somewhere in the dark of parking lot, we could hear a commotion and the officer ventured out to see what was going on. All of a sudden, my student came rushing towards us, her posse not far behind, yelling profanities back over her shoulder at the officer. He broke through the group and caught up with her, grabbing her arm just as she made it to the ticket table. She writhed in his grasp and spit in his face.

"I told you, you're not going into the dance," he yelled at her.

"Why not?" she spewed back. "Am I not good enough?"

She continued to struggle and I was amazed at her strength.

"No, you're drunk," he answered.

I came out from behind the table at this point and tried to intervene. "You're going to have to leave, now," I said. "We can't let you in.....you know that."

At which point, she rattled off a litany of terms towards me that would make a hardened sailor blush. The officer held tight as she tried to lurch at me.

"Come on, little lady. You're going with me," he told her as he pulled her away and towards his car. She continued to scream at me and I stood there horrified at what I was seeing.

Her friends interceded at this point and begged the officer to let her go with them, promising that they would leave and get her home safely. He and Mr. Sutherland discussed the matter and decided it was best to let them do so. The officer escorted the group back out into the parking lot and made sure they kept their bargain. I must admit, the entire episode really shook me. I had never experienced such anger and venom in my life.

The following Monday, she did not report to class and I marked her absent. On Tuesday, I happened to see her in the hall and as I passed by, she literally turned to face the wall and slunk along it until I was well gone. When my class started, she waited until the very last second of the bell before slinking into the room and slouching into her seat. She never looked up the entire hour and bolted out the door as soon as the class ended.

This went on for several days. Finally, on Friday, I asked her to stay after class.....that I wanted to talk to her. As the other students filed out, she sat frozen in her desk, head down with her eyes closed. I approached quietly.

"Listen," I started, "I don't know who that was on Friday night, but it surely wasn't you. The person I know is smarter than that, would never disrespect me like that."

She began to look up, but still couldn't make eye contact with me.

I continued. "And, furthermore, I don't want to see you slinking around the hall anymore, or crawling into my classroom. I want you forgive yourself, because I have surely forgiven you."

I had to take her chin and make her look at me.

"More than anything, though, I want you to understand your potential. You are a very bright person. If you apply yourself, you can do anything you set your mind to. Do you hear me?"

She slowly nodded her head. For the first time, I could see the clarity of the blue eyes that had always been hidden beneath the greasy bangs. They were welling with tears.

"Now, get on out of here. I don't want you to be late for your next class."

A year later, no longer on the faculty at Eastside, I decided on a whim to go to a basketball game and see who of my teacher friends might be there. After buying my ticket, I took a seat in the bleachers and scoured the crowd for familiar faces. There was a tap on my shoulder. When I turned in recognition, I couldn't believe my own eyes. It was her face, but the whole appearance had changed. Gone were the bangs and sneer replaced by a softer short haircut and a pleasant smile. More than that, though, there was a definite aura about her that had not been there before.....a confidence that I had never seen.

"Hey, Miss Kendrick, how are you?"

"I'm great. How are you?"

"I am doing just fine. My grades are good," she replied. She paused for a second. "And.....because of you.....I'm thinking about going to college."

Boys, I will never forget the sense of gratification I felt at that moment. It gave me validation as a teacher, even though I was no longer in the classroom. As you grow, you will have teachers to guide you and help unlock the many mysteries uncovered by knowledge. Who knows? Maybe one day you will decide to wear the mantel of teacher yourself. There is one thing for sure......teachers are indispensible....and when you have one that means something special to you.....for heaven's sake.....let them know!