Being Still
I'm anxious, all over my body, wondering what the night will bring. How will they be?
What's it going to be like saying goodbye to them again?
---
Seeing some of my RL students in D.C. brought such a sense of stillness that I was missing. There wasn't a single awkward moment. We were jubilant and thankful and calmed on a deep level by each other's presence. No. I'm not reading too much into this. Their firm hugs lasted just long enough to wonder about a lot of things. They wouldn't let go. Completely threw me off.
Not because of a shooting, I swear I don't want that to be why, but there is a connection we have with each other that is rarely defeated. The school we once collaborated at has changed in little ways, but remains the same in most.
And I can honestly say that I've not felt such peace since I've moved to Baltimore as I felt last night with these young wonders. I miss my old classroom and moments and the realness that I let into my classroom, then.
Now, I'm different. I didn't see that until I saw them, and I felt myself again. I'm not sure all the ways in which I've changed, or the layers, but they're present.
I tell people, constantly, that I never will return because I don't want to live in the sticks. I don't tell them about the wind, air, and colors that fiercely compete with the risk of loneliness.
It's funny how about an entire year ago I was desperately trying to figure out how to leave my students behind. After that goodbye, the hardest action ever instigated, I felt more and more okay with the decision. It's still the right choice. I know it. I still talk to them on a fairly regular basis on the phone, we email too, so I didn't just ditch them. We stay connected and invested. Seeing them last night, though, was such a treat.
We at ice cream, Rod ran through a thorn bush trying to show off, we privately talked here-and-there about some serious things that needed to be addressed, we laughed about whatever, and taunted speakers at their program's reception for talking about totem poles. Oh those white people. They'll never get it. They couldn't stop themselves. Each of them had brimming smiles, counting their victories, slowly, waiting for validation. I was validating before they could even finish. We had so much fun.
The stillness was bred from knowing that their teachers are so invested in them. I feel so good about who is working, advocating for their welfare. Then there's just seeing that they're okay. They're doing fine. Oh they have the ugly things in life going after them, but they just keep fighting it all off by trying to make good decisions, learning from the ones that weren't good, and moving forward.
This goodbye was better. I didn't know what the future would bring last year, and now it's still pretty fuzzy. But I know that I'll be driving 312 miles up North this summer, during some two week stint, to see them again. This goodbye was the unfortunate-fortunate kind. Like we all understood each other and our respective lives, but we knew that whatever those lives entail - ours are still intertwined, unspoken and still.
What's it going to be like saying goodbye to them again?
---
Seeing some of my RL students in D.C. brought such a sense of stillness that I was missing. There wasn't a single awkward moment. We were jubilant and thankful and calmed on a deep level by each other's presence. No. I'm not reading too much into this. Their firm hugs lasted just long enough to wonder about a lot of things. They wouldn't let go. Completely threw me off.
Not because of a shooting, I swear I don't want that to be why, but there is a connection we have with each other that is rarely defeated. The school we once collaborated at has changed in little ways, but remains the same in most.
And I can honestly say that I've not felt such peace since I've moved to Baltimore as I felt last night with these young wonders. I miss my old classroom and moments and the realness that I let into my classroom, then.
Now, I'm different. I didn't see that until I saw them, and I felt myself again. I'm not sure all the ways in which I've changed, or the layers, but they're present.
I tell people, constantly, that I never will return because I don't want to live in the sticks. I don't tell them about the wind, air, and colors that fiercely compete with the risk of loneliness.
It's funny how about an entire year ago I was desperately trying to figure out how to leave my students behind. After that goodbye, the hardest action ever instigated, I felt more and more okay with the decision. It's still the right choice. I know it. I still talk to them on a fairly regular basis on the phone, we email too, so I didn't just ditch them. We stay connected and invested. Seeing them last night, though, was such a treat.
We at ice cream, Rod ran through a thorn bush trying to show off, we privately talked here-and-there about some serious things that needed to be addressed, we laughed about whatever, and taunted speakers at their program's reception for talking about totem poles. Oh those white people. They'll never get it. They couldn't stop themselves. Each of them had brimming smiles, counting their victories, slowly, waiting for validation. I was validating before they could even finish. We had so much fun.
The stillness was bred from knowing that their teachers are so invested in them. I feel so good about who is working, advocating for their welfare. Then there's just seeing that they're okay. They're doing fine. Oh they have the ugly things in life going after them, but they just keep fighting it all off by trying to make good decisions, learning from the ones that weren't good, and moving forward.
This goodbye was better. I didn't know what the future would bring last year, and now it's still pretty fuzzy. But I know that I'll be driving 312 miles up North this summer, during some two week stint, to see them again. This goodbye was the unfortunate-fortunate kind. Like we all understood each other and our respective lives, but we knew that whatever those lives entail - ours are still intertwined, unspoken and still.
And so now I see the irony between when my blog started, what I titled it, and this post.
Posted by
Ms. E |
11:41 AM