Recovery

Spring break has been long overdue, but now that it is here, my lack of motivation is pathetic. I think my body is instead using this week to recover from months of long hours and early mornings. And since it's not been quite nice enough to force me to go do things outside, I've remained in my semi-comatose state until noon each day, at which point I move around the apartment and find very creative ways of not getting anything accomplished. Fortunately and unfortunately, the parking ticket I got this morning I think has served as a reminder that I cannot live this way, even on spring break.

When it comes to school, my brain and body feel fried; last week I missed a day of school for Lakeya's funeral, which was a unique experience to say the least. It was, in fact, my first church experience with a primarily black congregation, which put a unique spin on my mind's definition of what a funeral should be. Honestly, I thought it could have been a lot better, and a coworker who also went said that he thought it was the worst funeral he'd ever been to, but I can't imagine that the planning was very easy, having seen the impact of the week's events on Lakeya's mom and her family. Plus, it was clear that her humongous family was dealing with other issues even before these events. Sadly, the service spent a limited amount of time talking about the girl we all knew, and more time using the gathering as a way to bring people back to God. The whole thing was quite frustrating, but as I watched the impact that the service had on the kids in the room, I realized that maybe this is the only thing that helps the young people of the community to reach out for help. Everybody acts so "hard" in the Richmond community because they don't want to be seen as weak in any capacity.

This experience marked the first time that I have ever cried in front of students, but I believe that this was probably the most ideal time to do so; I hope that any one of my students who saw me realizes that it's okay to display your emotions. In fact, that's why a lot of things were left unsaid about Lakeya: too many people went up to speak, but had to leave the room because they could not handle their own emotions. It became so clear that these kids, and adults too, had bottled everything up inside so much that their reaction even surprised themselves. And when these community members were actually able to express their sadness outwardly, it was as though they were crying for not just Lakeya's death, but the tragedies of so many others that they knew. I have a feeling that this funeral was different from some of the others that many had been to in that this was an open-casket service for a very young child. I realized that the mind truly does not understand the concept of death until you are looking at it in the face. Especially when the face, dressed up for the funeral, looks nothing like the girl you once knew. At the end of the service, everyone walked by the open casket, and I would say that 1 in 5 community members burst into tears, and 1 in 10 sprinted to the back of the chapel at the sight. It was strange to think that what made the funeral so difficult for me was that it was almost as though these people were learning of Lakeya's death for the first time at that moment. At this point, I had almost made peace with the fact, and it was difficult being witness to so many devastating reactions all over again. Needless to say, I am more than grateful to have the opportunity to think about other things for a week.

On the brighter side of things, I broke in my new bike, and mountain biking has definitely become my new spring passion. I feel like I'm on an "if-not-now-then-when" kick, so the next thing on the list is to get a fitness club membership and actually try and reach a fitness goal or two. I'm pretty positive I'm going to do it; it makes it easier that I already play indoor soccer at the same facility. Once again I feel like I have this fictional idea of how much free time I'm going to have this summer to accomplish everything, but even though I realize this fact, I've decided that having too much to do is way better than doing nothing at all.

...and the week that followed

The candlelight vigil was yesterday after school. Originally we had heard that it would be maybe at her home, which would have left me a little more apprehensive of going. It was nice to be able to go, but a few things in particular were very sad. First of all, except for about two or three students, it seemed as though the only attendees were our black students, which reminded me still how far we are from having a diverse student body in the sense that everyone gets along. Racial issues are still strong, and cliques at school leave rifts between Latino and African-American students. Secondly, it is very clear that a lot of our male students don't have a positive male role model in their adolescent lives just based on the fact that no one has properly taught them the correct way to express their emotions. So many of the boys at this vigil were incapable of sitting in silence and we downright disrespectful simply because they don't understand that it is okay for them to be visibly affected by the death of their friend.

That is the story of this week though - I have a handful of students that are acting out in ways that make me feel like it's the beginning of the year again. It's horrible to say, but I hope that these behavior problems can be attributed to their response to this week of madness, and aren't instead some freak coincidental development that I will have to deal with for the next month. I'm already at wits end at this point and I am counting down the days until spring break. It's hard not to be a little fed up with school when you have to wrap your head around the fact that somehow your administration is STILL moving new kids into your classes with only two and a half school weeks left until the state test. Oh yeah, and they were failing their other math class, so I'm so very glad that I have now inherited their sure-to-be-amazing test scores.

Still no word on when the funeral will be; the family is trying to raise money right now so that they can even have one. So sad.

Before I began my two years, I wondered what the odds were of this happening.

One of my students died yesterday morning.

Apparently Lakeya was with her boyfriend late Thursday night, and all the news articles say that her boyfriend accidentally shot her in the stomach with a gun. But let me lay out the events of Friday to you. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to burden you with all the sad details, but rather I am trying to write it all down so that I can just plain get it out.

Literally two minutes before 1st period started, a student of mine runs into the room and tells me that the teacher across the hall is crying and they don't know what to do. When I went to go see what was up, she told me that apparently many kids had heard the same rumor that Lakeya had shot and killed herself. Dumbfounded and in shock, I ran to the office to get our assistant principal to cover her class and then ran back to mine where I proceeded to give out the unit test as normal. I was only able to think about the situation when I took attendance and marked Lakeya absent. But even then, shitty rumors like this have plagued our school before, and I have even written about them in this blog. I decided I was not about to have an emotional train wreck given the slight possibility that somebody thinks this is a hilarious April Fool's joke. Because honestly, if there was one girl at school with a screwed up enough sense of humor for that, it would be Lakeya.

By third period, it was becoming pretty clear that mentally, my students weren't all there, and I knew this test was almost a waste of time, because who the hell cares about systems of equations and inequalities when your classmate just died? Luckily or unluckily, all of us in third period were distracted a little while longer from thinking about it when a mouse literally ran across the floor of the classroom. This sounds way too much like a cartoon, but I swear to you, we all first saw it because a hat was moving on the ground all by itself, and then it must have gotten scared because it bolted for the space between the closet and the wall. It is still a mystery to me where that hat came from, because nobody claimed it even after I threw it in the trash can. I can't blame them though; I would never wear a hat again after a mouse (rat, really) had been wearing it first. Right now, I am debating whether or not I should even grade those tests.

During my free fourth period, Lakeya's resource specialist, also TFA, came in to confirm that she had died, but that her boyfriend shot her. At this moment I realized that part of the reason why I didn't believe it in the first place was because I just knew that there was no way that she would commit suicide. In fact, I should mention that she was one of my top students in first period, always participating and finishing homework on time (one of the few). For some reason it has always been my first thought that when something awful like this happens that they were probably not a very good student. That is probably very unfair to assume and apparently very wrong. Come to think of it, on Thursday after school, I had to run to get site supervisors to break up a fight that was about to happen between my top A+++ student and some other girl, so maybe the opposite is true. It would make sense, after all, because the students with the best grades are the ones that try really hard with the intention of changing the path of their own life. Those incredible students are usually the ones with the most incredibly heartbreaking stories. I would say that Lakeya fell into that category; she was the youngest of many siblings consumed by gangs and violence, but you could tell that she was really trying to get somewhere in life to hopefully leave it all behind. She had her own anger problems, but it was built up from years upon years of experiences that you or I will never have to endure. Two weeks ago she was suspended for five days for threatening the English teacher across the hall in the middle of class, but she acknowledged her anger problem and signed up to be trained in restorative justice at school. At a school like Richmond, bad attitudes in students usually come from something that has absolutely nothing to do with the teacher, so I will just remember her as a student with a lot of life and someone that actually enjoyed my class (which is rare in 9th grade Algebra).

I hesitate using the word "fitting," but sometimes things seem all too coincidental at RHS. In English class, Lakeya had just finished typing an essay about what it means to lose one's humanity. Their class had been reading Night by Elie Wiesel, and so everyone had to decide if the main character had or had not lost his humanity based on the things he did and said near the end of the book. I hate to compare our school to a Nazi extermination camp this way, but seriously when you look around at how the kids deal with something like this happening, you begin to wonder where the line is for keeping one's humanity. The students are like sponges, and so much of the sponge is already filled with so many other traumas that there is no room left to appropriately deal with this one. For instance, the English teacher across the hall was told the news by one of Lakeya's close friends: "Ms. Price, did you hear about Lakeya?" "No, what happened?" "She's dead." She said it bluntly with an awkward smile on her face, which sounds awful and heartless, but consider this: I think that it is a fair assumption that we have all experienced at least once a time when even though laughing is the least acceptable thing you could be doing, you can't help but to laugh. It's emotional overload for sure, but is it losing your humanity?

Have you lost your humanity if you know that you feel sad - or should feel sad - but you just can't cry at all? I am not very good at getting myself to cry by myself; I usually use a sad movie or something and the visual stimulus of someone else crying about the same thing as I am experiencing is usually what works. So, in fourth period when I walked over to the grief counseling area and saw the only student out of 20 actually outwardly expressing her emotions and crying, I was finally able to cry a little. I would have cried more if I had known that Lakeya was this student's cousin, and was the third family member that would be buried THIS WEEK. I found this out later when some other teachers and I went on a walk and discussed how violence has gotten worse in Richmond since spring began.

In fact, with Lakeya's family history involvement with gangs and violence, us teachers still feel like something is up and that it wasn't just an accident. I suppose this is probably a normal reaction to deaths like this, but it just feels like things don't quite add up, and as much as I loved this student and want to pay my respects at her funeral or at a vigil for her, I don't think I feel safe going, because events this year have proven that there is no safe place against drive-by shootings. I don't remember if I wrote about it, but less than a year ago a man walked into a church during a funeral in Richmond and opened fire. This is the first time that I really personally feel the effect of violence and safety concerns in the community in which I teach, and that makes this experience that much worse.

The next hardship will be how I handle class on Monday. If this had happened earlier in the week, I would be in a very different place right now because I wouldn't have had time to appropriately deal with it, and based on my being a zombie through fifth and sixth period yesterday, I am thankful that I have time to mentally prepare my plan of attack for first period on Monday. But here's the thing: I was trained as a teacher and not as a therapist. It's not that I don't want to help these kids through a tough time, but more that I am terrified of getting into a situation where I have absolutely nothing to say. When you start to talk these kids about real emotional things and begin to uncover the true emotional responses, you get to realize how much shit these kids have suppressed over the years, and how many of those experiences they think is normal. What I really want to explain to my class is that the reason why I try so hard in my job is because I want to give my students the opportunity to see life outside of Richmond. I want them to have the proper resources to make it in life somewhere safer and happier. I want them to live in a place where they don't have to reserve half their mind for traumatic experiences, because if I had to blame one thing, THAT is the reason why success in education is challenging at our school. I want them to be able to redefine their vision of "normal" life. At the very least, I hope that they can see that it is not normal to lose one of your classmates in 9th grade.

Believe it or not, despite all this, I'm actually doing okay. Yesterday involved a lot of tears, some alcohol-induced, but I feel like I got it all out and it's not building up inside of me like last year's traumatic event did. I think that talking with my kids on Monday about the elephant in the room will help as well, and I can only hope for the best for next week. I have no idea how I will ever get these kids ready for the state test in the beginning of May, but, hey, those feelings aren't new :)