When Real Life Shows Up

It's so easy to get so caught up in my own little bubble, teaching my fanny off in room 301.  My students come in, I teach/facilitate/flounder/blow minds (or maybe all of these, depending on the day) for 52 minutes and then -- poof!  They disappear into the ether.

I think that's why it hits me so hard when real life shows up.

I have a student in my third hour class whose brother has been battling a brain tumor for a year with a poor prognosis.  She and I have talked about it many times during our 52 minute interludes.  This student (we'll call her Abbi) is a beautiful soul, full of life and enthusiasm.  She is also one of those students you just crave to be able to have in your classroom.  She might not pick up things the fastest, but she works hard until she understands concepts fully.  She is dedicated and responsible.

But as the year progressed, this I could see her worry in the sag of her shoulders.  I could see her on the verge of tears when I asked her how things were going.

This morning, when I opened my email, I had a message from my principal stating simply that Abbi's brother had passed away over night.

I said a silent prayer for Abbi and her family, but before I knew it, the day was rolling along as if nothing had even happened.

In my third hour, when I marked Abbi absent, I spoke with the class about what was happening and encouraged them to reach out to her in love during the challenging days ahead.

And in my fourth hour, she appeared in my doorway at the back of the room.

As I gave my students a quick directive to begin working on some practice problems, I rushed to meet her.  As soon as I started toward her, she dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs.  I took her out into the hallway and just hugged her.  I cried for this beautiful girl whose heart is broken.

We stood together for a long time.  When she pulled away from me, she looked at me and asked for any make-up work she would have from being gone.  I was so shocked that it took me a moment to recover.  I told her not to worry about that, but to focus on her family.  Before she left, she asked me to attend the funeral on Saturday.  I told her I would absolutely be there, and she turned to leave.

I don't know if Abbi visited any other of her classes today, but her appearance today really hit me hard.
I need to stop being surprised when real life shows up.  Students do not live in my bubble.  They live in a world that is broken.  They might not have such obvious tragedies as Abbi's, but that doesn't make them any less real.

I focus so much on how I can help students learn the material.  I know that's important.  That's my job and I so badly want to do it well.

But, it's good to be reminded that part of my job has nothing to do with chemistry.  Part of my job is maybe to help students on a personal level too.  It might be as simple as demonstrating patience (one of my weaknesses), kindness, or empathy.  It might be laughing at myself when I screw up something simple in the math I'm working through.  When it's 3:00 pm and I still have 5 students asking to take a re-assessment and 2 who are asking for help with a learning target, I need to remember that I have the opportunity to connect.  And like designing lessons based on best practices, this will take planning.

So, beginning tomorrow I'd like to make a more concerted effort to be aware of the life that exists for my students outside of my class.  It's time to burst my own bubble and make an impact in real life.