Since being tossed into the classroom at the tender age of
19 with a small group of high school students that no one else in the school
wanted, I have learned to cherish the “misfits” of each school that I have been
a part of. I have only lost two students, one to prison and one to death that
have been categorized as one of my misfits.
That was until this past spring when another student that I
had worked so hard to get through to turned his back and walked away without
earning a diploma and with no hope within his beaten soul.
He is a cocky Mississippi
teenage boy who had been dealt a pretty tough hand, but he seemed to be able to
pull himself up and weasel his way into the hearts of those trying to help him.
He is a charmer and a manipulator, then again, most of my misfits are that way,
that is why I love them and work so hard to push them along.
He was one of 30 something students in the alternative
program. He made bad choices, viewed the world with the hard edge of tough love
and worked hard at being charismatic to the adults in his life. While I have
build bonds with my students, I could feel that he was always pulling back and
hiding. He tended to hide behind the victim persona whenever things got tough
and while many of the teachers wanted to protect him, there also came a time
when he needed to stand firmly on his own two feet.
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The last quarter of the spring semester was crunch time and
I tried my hardest to push him towards the finish line. As the last few weeks
dawned, I realized that he was not standing on his own and he would never
succeed. He just was not ready. Needless to say, the end of the school year
loomed and the news was delivered that he would not receive his diploma. He
needed to come back for one more semester.
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| Best wishes to all of my misfits! |
He imploded and made rash decisions that will have adverse
affects on him the rest of his life. His goal was to be the first person in his
family to graduate high school and in his mind, he failed. He could not see
that his goal was still firmly in place and it was just going to take him an
extra six months to achieve.
His charm evaporated and he became a petulant child who
pouted and threw a temper tantrum. It was an expected reaction because of the
swift personality shifts that I had seen in the past. But it hurt nonetheless.
He was one of my babies and to see him hurting and all of us were helpless to
soothe him.
In my 15 years of teaching and working with my misfits, this
was my third failure and while there is still hope that he will figure it out
and push himself up to stand on his own feet, I still feel as if I have utterly
failed.
These failures have not defined me though. I see the
hundreds of students who have graced my door and wiggled into my heart. I hear
their successes and share in their triumphs. They are the ones who push me to
continue doing what I love and putting myself out there year after year.
