Class of 2018, you are graduating. I sit here two days before you leave, one day before the last day of school and I think back to your freshman year. Our first ILP, the first day we met and I can't help but wonder if I did everything right. You are all young men and young women heading out to your next adventure. You'll meet struggles that I can't shield you from. Though on many occasions you called me mom by mistake, I've always just been your teacher, your advocate, your net when school got to be a place where you didn't know if anyone cared. I did. I always cared, I sat up at night worrying if you were making smart choices. I hoped you were ok, cried when you fell, and cheered when you succeeded. Through four years of high school I did all I could to make sure you were passing classes, being socially aware, and fitting in with your peers. I'll miss you Raquel, Sebastian, Rosario, Ben, Sophia, Isabella, Estefany, Nasir, Felicia, Lazaro, Jazmine. Jaylah, Marysol, Francisco, Maya, Aysia, Josh, Joseph, Leilani, and Luis. Whether you've been in my Capstone for a year or all four years, you've touched my soul. I am happy I got to be part of your journey! Thank you
Important Links: Political Offices
National Writing Project Senator McCain Everyday Advocate Senator Flake US Representatives Watching him get into his car and drive away sends flash backs of other first days of school clicking through my mind. Kindergarten, that silly smile and buzz cut with his button up Hawaiian shirt and a name tag pinned to its front. Memories of him fidgeting in line, his Spider-Man back pack dangling from one arm; bring tears of happiness and nostalgia to my eyes. I smile when I remember the excitement he could barely contain. Laugh when I realize that blonds would become his preference. “Mom, my teacher has hair like sunshine!” were the first words out of his mouth even before I could ask him about his day. That was sweet…and foreshadowed the girlfriends to come… but that is a different story. Then there was the first day of 6th grade. He was the new kid at school that year because we’d moved, he was self-conscious and a little nervous, but he was a big kid and wouldn’t show it. I watched him get out of the car looking at the ground with hesitating footsteps…he glanced back over his shoulder with an uncertain grin and I wanted to pull him back in for one more day and just say, “wait son, you don’t have to be the big boy, you don’t have to make new friends! I’ll keep you safe!” But of course I didn’t, had to let him go…had to put on some of my own big girl undies and hold back the tears. Suddenly it was the first day of junior high…wait, what? Where did the time go? My little guy is too small to be in junior high. He still has so much innocence…these kids look way too grown-up, they are going to eat my sweet boy alive!!! His happy grin faded a bit that year and the sullen teen crept in…but he never stopped hugging his mom and calling me mama. Even after his buddies razzed and gave him a hard time. You’re a mama’s boy they said…his response? Of course I am my mama’s cool and makes great banana bread! Okay…so none of that compared to the first day of High School when I realized that my boy was soon going to be swallowed whole by this monstrosity of a place. Hamilton University they call it, with its 3600 plus student body and hallways crammed with tiny shorts and boys who look like men. Again I let him out and watched him disappear into a sea of backpacks and purses, binders and converse sneakers. Because at the end of the day I knew he’d reemerge, pull him self out and sit at my kitchen table and tell me every single thing that happened that day over cookies and Capri sun. Those afternoons when his sisters were still at school for an hour and it was just him and I are priceless moments I wish I could get back. I have so much more to say… Freshmen year was the year his teacher assigned an essay titled “who do you admire most and why?” I cried when I read his essay about me. My mom is the smartest person I know and has given me so much my whole life. She taught me that going after your dreams is important even though she put hers on hold for me” he wrote. If only he knew I put nothing on hold and having him and his sisters is the smartest thing I’ve ever done. There are those who say mothers are the only people who let their hearts walk around outside their bodies. While I click like on the cute “love being a mom memes,” I can’t say I actually “got” that metaphor until today, when I watched my heart drive away in his mustang, crappy rap music blaring from the radio, tattooed arm hanging out of the window, dual exhausts roaring their goodbyes. “I’ll text you mom,” he shouts as he speeds away to his run down apartment that I imagine smells like nacho cheese Doritos, cheep cologne, and “clean breeze” Febreeze trying to cover up the stench of stale beer and dirty sheets. My heart is walking around Mill avenue tonight, unprotected, open, exposed what happened to that silly little smile and Hawaiian shirt? They’ve been replaced by Ralph Lauren button ups and a braces perfect grin. Yep, my heart is now in the hands of co-eds and college professors. My baby is on the verge of figuring out his future and I can’t be there to catch him when he falls…no more cookies and Capri Suns or Sunday dinners where we talk about everything under the sun…and you know what? I’m just going to have to learn to breathe, and let go… Questions swim through my mind like minnows searching for somewhere to belong. My excitement is palpable like the energy from a loose wire sparking my imagination. Who are my students? How will each class show me its personality? What challenges will we face? What problems will we solve? How will we change the world this year?
Each year, each day, each hour, teaching is a new adventure . The start of each school year is different, it is the most amazing experience, it is so ripe with possibilities; I sometimes think I might burst from the anticipation. |
AuthorWhy do I write? I write to live. Every new day inspires endless topics and words upon words upon words. Without the swish of the pen or click of the keyboard, my mind would expand to painful proportions with all of the stories waiting to spill out upon the page. Take a journey with me; a journey of words. Archives
May 2018
Categories |