I've heard before that teaching is a job that never ends. That it's never a 9-5 job and its something that goes with the territory of being a teacher.
It's so true.
It is a juxtapose between the grading of papers, after school activities, random reminders of what they may say in class..
Its a strange to think that these souls can affect you with their every day life by what their interests are.. their fun personalities.. quirky and funny comments.. their mere presence in my life makes such a difference..
they make me truly happy.
Out of all of my students, there is one so far that breaks my heart the most... We'll call her Christy. (That is not her name, but I need a name for this story).
Christy is a fragile girl.
Upon entering my classroom, Christy was simply a wreck. You could see in her eyes the fear of entering the room, The way her hands shook as she talked showed the frail, weak person she was. Even the trembling in her voice highlighted the emotional struggle within her own soul..
Christy was the type of girl you just want to save from all of her past. You just wished you could take her problems, throw them away, and show her the type of life you know she's never experienced.
I knew Christy was a part of the Girls Home. The Girls Home is a place where children who are taken by the state are put and taught life skills or received extensive therapy; sometimes both. Usually girls are taken by the state for one of two reasons: horrific family situations or they are troubled teens.
By the middle of the semester, I found the reasons why Christy was placed in the Girls Home. Many times throughout class Christy would give me bits and pieces of information about her life. Many were sad facts that simply broke your heart......
....."Ms. Brandon, look at my picture..."...."Who is that Christy?".... "This is me, my mom, and my sister...." "How old were you then?"..... "About 3 or 4."... "Well, that is such a sweet picture...When is the last time you saw your mom?...."Since this picture...I'm still trying to find them."
Through bits and scattered pieces, I found out more about Christy past. One day she walked in my classroom for 2nd block with tears filling her eyes. I found out her father had passed away. The Girls Home was not allowing her to even go to his funeral. She wanted closure of her dad's memory, but could not go. She cried for a few days about her father's passing which prompted more information. Christy's father was a horrific dad (in my opinion) who has left her emotional scarred for the rest of her life. Yet, in Christy's pure, innocent heart, she stated, "even though I hate what my dad has done to me, I still want to tell him goodbye."
Heart. Break.
Overall, I tend to never worry about students too much when I am away from school, but Christy is one that I think about often. I wonder how she is being treated by the people who live in the home. I wonder if she is being taken care of properly. I also worry that she has enough of the necessities of life and still can see the beauty in it.
Everytime I see Christy, I try to show her the beauty in life--that there are good people in this word.
The day that school let out for the holidays, Christy came into my classroom with something in her hand. It was a present for me. My heart was so humbled because I know this girl gives all she has just to get the bare minimum. I was so humbled? in awe? of what she had done for me.
Over the holidays, while everyone was with their families, my thoughts turned to Christy. This year my only wish was for her Christmas and New Years to be one where she felt loved.
I hope my wish came true.
It's so true.
It is a juxtapose between the grading of papers, after school activities, random reminders of what they may say in class..
Its a strange to think that these souls can affect you with their every day life by what their interests are.. their fun personalities.. quirky and funny comments.. their mere presence in my life makes such a difference..
they make me truly happy.
Out of all of my students, there is one so far that breaks my heart the most... We'll call her Christy. (That is not her name, but I need a name for this story).
Christy is a fragile girl.
Upon entering my classroom, Christy was simply a wreck. You could see in her eyes the fear of entering the room, The way her hands shook as she talked showed the frail, weak person she was. Even the trembling in her voice highlighted the emotional struggle within her own soul..
Christy was the type of girl you just want to save from all of her past. You just wished you could take her problems, throw them away, and show her the type of life you know she's never experienced.
I knew Christy was a part of the Girls Home. The Girls Home is a place where children who are taken by the state are put and taught life skills or received extensive therapy; sometimes both. Usually girls are taken by the state for one of two reasons: horrific family situations or they are troubled teens.
By the middle of the semester, I found the reasons why Christy was placed in the Girls Home. Many times throughout class Christy would give me bits and pieces of information about her life. Many were sad facts that simply broke your heart......
....."Ms. Brandon, look at my picture..."...."Who is that Christy?".... "This is me, my mom, and my sister...." "How old were you then?"..... "About 3 or 4."... "Well, that is such a sweet picture...When is the last time you saw your mom?...."Since this picture...I'm still trying to find them."
Through bits and scattered pieces, I found out more about Christy past. One day she walked in my classroom for 2nd block with tears filling her eyes. I found out her father had passed away. The Girls Home was not allowing her to even go to his funeral. She wanted closure of her dad's memory, but could not go. She cried for a few days about her father's passing which prompted more information. Christy's father was a horrific dad (in my opinion) who has left her emotional scarred for the rest of her life. Yet, in Christy's pure, innocent heart, she stated, "even though I hate what my dad has done to me, I still want to tell him goodbye."
Heart. Break.
Overall, I tend to never worry about students too much when I am away from school, but Christy is one that I think about often. I wonder how she is being treated by the people who live in the home. I wonder if she is being taken care of properly. I also worry that she has enough of the necessities of life and still can see the beauty in it.
Everytime I see Christy, I try to show her the beauty in life--that there are good people in this word.
The day that school let out for the holidays, Christy came into my classroom with something in her hand. It was a present for me. My heart was so humbled because I know this girl gives all she has just to get the bare minimum. I was so humbled? in awe? of what she had done for me.
Over the holidays, while everyone was with their families, my thoughts turned to Christy. This year my only wish was for her Christmas and New Years to be one where she felt loved.
I hope my wish came true.
I don't know much about the girls' house, but Gavin works at the boys' house. I think they are treated pretty well, and the people who work there care about them and want the best for them. Sometimes it is hard for the kids to realize that, though. I know that the other day the boys were on a kick about the workers just being there for a paycheck. I hope that they don't really think that, though, because most of the people who work there have a heart for children and really want to help these girls and boys out. This was a touching story. I'm sorry they didn't let her go to his funeral, though. She could have probably used the closure...
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