Death
A few weeks ago, our community lost a student. The student died from internal bleeding, and it's unclear what caused it. While he had diabetes, we aren't sure if that was related to his death. While I am thankful that he did not die on the street from gang violence, his death is devastating regardless. I cannot imagine how his family feels, losing a teen. This feeling is terribly familiar to members of the community, but it was a first for me. I have been blessed with never experiencing a death of someone whom I have spent more than a day or so with. This is a student who I spent time with every day after school, helping him with homework, chatting about school, and just goofing around with. His quiet nature deceived many into believing he was shy and not very interesting, but he was just the opposite. The shell was just difficult to crack.When I heard the news I couldn't even cry. I didn't know how to react. All I could think about was his family, and how much pain they must be in. Death makes you feel completely helpless, because there is nothing you can do to reverse it, nothing you can do to make the pain dissipate. It just lingers until you are ready to let it go. But that's the hardest part, just letting go.
Felony
5 students, 4 of which are practically my own children, were caught stealing school property. I watched the security cameras tell the story, and slowly tears streamed down my face. As the cameras played, denial set in. "There's no way they could have done this... there must be something else on the cameras." "Well of course they would be there, that isn't weird." "They wouldn't do that to me... would they? They wouldn't disappoint me like that.... would they?"They would.
They did.
As they all shouted and the wall of denial stood between them and me. I began crying harder, yelling louder. I must have thought that the volume of my voice would overwhelm their brick wall of ignorance, of not understanding the trouble they were in. Slowly they stopped yelling, and I cried harder. As I looked at them and they looked back at me, they began to realize what they had done. The police officers came in, and told us all this was a felony. They would likely be convicted of a felony by the DA.
Felony.
Permanent record.
Court.
Jail.
School?
Bye.
Scholarships?
Gone.
College?
.....
My mind raced as I listened to the officers. The suspects sat there and seemed unaffected. Did they not hear what I heard? FELONY! JAIL! PERMANENT RECORD! My ears were burning as if my eardrums were made of hot coals. All I could do was go to the bathroom and wail. Wail for their quickly evaporating near future. Wail for their ignorance to what was coming. Wail because I felt as though I failed to keep them out of harms way.
I understand this is no where near my fault. I was not directly responsible for what was stolen. These are not my actual children. I am not responsible for what they do.
However, I spend enough time with these kids to call them family. I care enough about them that I would risk most things for them, and have risked many. I love them as if they were my responsibility, and have told them this. So even though they are not mine biologically, they are mine metaphorically. But the pain I felt was not metaphorical, it was biological. Chemical reactions that I didn't know existed in my body ignited. Pain I didn't know I could feel swept over my body, causing me to double over, cry harder, search for the source. I wanted to hold whatever hurt, but the only thing I could grab was my chest. My heart felt as though it were broken. I finally understood where the term "heart break" came from, because I was sure mine stopped working.
Logically, I knew my heart shouldn't actually hurt. I knew that there was no reason for my body to be experiencing any pain. I had not hurt myself, I was simply upset. It wasn't so simple. I was painfully upset. Painfully disappointed.
I still don't know what is to happen with these students, which is the most painful part of all...
Waiting to hear the verdict.
