This will be a fairly short post tonight. For those of you expecting and looking forward to another part of the Carolyn adventure, I apologize. I am not very sick; the antibiotics have done their work. I am still a bit congested and on the coughing side, but, otherwise, I am good to go.
No, the problem this time came with a small shock that I received on Facebook last night. I was playing Words with Friends and I received a private message from a teacher I used to work with. She wanted me to know that one of the students I had in class passed away. Now, for those of you who have not followed me from the start, I need to tell you a couple of things: First, I taught a rough bunch. They were the problem children of the school systems; many were bussed in from other schools. Most of them swore, many stole, many had had previous problems with the law. They were, without a doubt, very difficult to manage on good days. Second, I love each and every one of them. I liked all but a couple, and I tried to like those. Third, we had a connection that was very close in many cases. I made it a point to work hard with the most difficult ones. This student was one of those. He was very likeable, just had many issues and problems.
His passing caught me way off-guard. You have those ideals in mind when you have your own children that they should outlive you. You should not have to bury your children. These were much younger than my children. And, in case of point, they were my children, at least, for awhile. I met with their guardians; I discussed lessons with them; I helped them to achieve things, some of which they did not think they could do. In short, I had invested much time and effort in each one of them.
So, tonight, instead of writing about death and the end of the world, I encourage you to hug your children a little tighter and to make certain you know what’s going on in their lives as well as how their health is. Above all, make sure you tell them how much you love them. My children and my students did always know that. No regrets there.
Namaste,
Scott