my Louisianan students

I did not appreciate my students enough the last two years. Oh, I suppose it's all quite cliche to make a statement after the fact, but what I'm trying to say is actually more important than the cliches. Sometimes I became so overwhelmed by the experience, by a very real experience that could also be terrifying at times, that I survived on only my time away from work. That was wrong.

I went into Teach for America and into my position specifically, because I believed every child deserved an excellent education, and I still believe that. Yet today, in reflection, I have become overwhelmed with the truth of my frequent attitude. I forgot to repeat to myself and to my students how much I loved them often enough. I let violent threats and assaults control my emotions and my attitude. I was wrong for that.

My students deserved better. My students were fantastic kids who have the real potential to not just do well, but also to impact the world for good. When I let a threat shake me up or when I became overwhelmed by the facts of my school, I did not make the best choice for my students. I, of all people, needed to be their best advocate. I loved my students, and I still love them with my whole heart. My students can succeed. My students have a chance at a good life. My students will be productive citizens.

Yet these mantras do not simply become true by saying them after the fact. I am not confident that I convinced my students of them always, because I escaped emotionally. I learned something about burnout this last year. Its risk is the greatest when you attempt to escape it the most. I did not face the emotions. I did not take time to meditate and pray. I ran. I watched TV. I surfed the internet. I tried not to think about school or the overwhelming grief I felt over what I watched my students experience and do to each other. In doing so, I prevented myself from appreciating them fully. I certainly developed thicker skin, but it was the wrong sort--the type that is cold and distant. I'm not saying that I was this person all the time, and I think most of my students did in fact know another version of me (a kinder, warmer version), but I regret how often I did distance myself from the pain of the situation. I regret that I did not appreciate their young lives and youthful expressions of the image of God everyday. I regret that I ever feared them even for one second. In my fear, I held back a bit of the love that they so desperately needed.

Rosenwald Elementary is getting a new principal this year, and the school will be receiving a significant shake up. I pray for the absolute best for Rosenwald. This is the year for turning things around and showing the community what an excellent education can mean. This is the year for determining that our students have the potential to reach for the highest positions in American society. Rosenwald, I wish you all the best, even as I will not be there for this part of the journey. Most importantly though, Rosenwald teachers and all teachers who find themselves in the particularly challenging schools in this country, I wish for you the deepest and most profound appreciation of your students, no matter what. Cultivate it, because your students so desperately need your appreciation.

As for myself, I am committed to growing in this area. Escape is not a mechanism I want to embrace.

Two quotes on my TFA farewell poster by two students that I love that caused me to tear up:

"Last year I wasn't reading good. Miss Kara helped me grow in reading." - TD

"My favorite memory is a picture of me and Miss Kara." -BL

(only I know, and now by default all of you, that for this child with autism, who refers to memories in pictures, he means that his favorite memory is the picture in his mind of the two of us)

I truly love these students, and I am consistently surprised by how many more tears there are left when thinking about them. I hope and pray they have more teachers who encourage them to become all that they can be and give them the skills to be successful. I hope they make the right choices. I hope they defy every dooming statistic. I hope they lead meaningful lives that they can feel proud of. I hope that one day I hear from and about them. They have meant the world to me.

Today I said my final goodbyes to my students. I actually lost it sitting next to one particular student with autism, whom I've had for the last two years and to whom I've grown particularly close. He kept wanting to talk about the arcade, while tears ran down my face. Eventually he understood this was the last time I would see him, and he became upset, and he told me he'd miss me. I could not control my emotions as I told him to help his mom with using e-mail. Another student I couldn't find until he was on the bus, and the best I could give was a wave through the window. It's rough. I've truly loved these kids and given my last two years to them. They'll never really know how much I've loved them and how much I will always care for them. I hope and pray for the best. This is the end of one chapter.

For a change from the often serious nature of this blog, some updates from Thursday's classroom:

B (who has autism) now has an imaginary friend. I was very excited to be having some rare one-on-one time with B, while my 6th graders had to finish up some testing in their regular rooms. Unfortunately, I did not yet know about Jim, B's imaginary friend. It turned out that every other question I asked had to be directed to Jim, not B. If B also knew the answer, he would tell me what Jim said, but if he did not, he'd say he couldn't hear Jim. Then when the sixth graders actually started to enter the room, K almost sat on Jim! Braylen quickly stopped her, and I had to go up to Jim and ask him politely if he would mind moving and then give him a big high five so that K could finally sit down. If you could have seen poor K's face! She was utterly confused, and the other sixth graders were just barely holding themselves together!

Also on Thursday, two third graders (whom I don't teach) came into my room during after-school tutoring, after nearly inciting an epic fight with some boys. I proceeded to show them my sign on the wall that says in Thai "jai yen" (cool heart) and talk to them about keeping cool when boys are purposefully trying to torment them. I then allowed them to sweep and clean my room, during which time conversation shifted quite predictably to Rosenwald students' favorite topic, "Miss Kara, you single?" When I answered affirmatively, I got an especially delightful answer this time, "Miss Kara, why?! That's ridiculous! You are so pretty and nice." However, the next part of the conversation I could barely even contain myself for. "Ms. Kara, did you know Mr. Q is also single? He's lonely at night, and he might spend the rest of his life alone! You should spend some time with him." To which my response (while carefully guarding my laughter) was, "That's true, he might spend the rest of his life alone, but the problem is I am not lonely. I'm quite content, so I think I'll be okay without a boyfriend for now." They solemnly shook their heads at my misguided ideas.