Tears in Heaven

I must be strong and carry on

'Cause I know I don't belong here in heaven

I’ve done this twice. Gone back to work after saying goodbye to a family member. 

The first time it was my brother, Bryan. I was 23 years old and it was my first year of teaching. To say that was a struggle is an understatement, but I survived and grew as a teacher. 

The second time it was my dad. I was 40 years old and spent 6 months traveling back and forth to NY after my dad had a significant injury from a freak trip and fall accident. The last time I went to NY, I knew when I left that I was saying goodbye and I would not see dad again. My prayer as I left was for healing whether that came to him here on earth or in heaven. I knew he needed to heal. I came home on Sunday night and went to work on Monday morning. I called my mom during my planning period to check-in and she told me he was gone. I walked back into the classroom in tears to tell my co-teacher that I needed to go home. I cried on my way to tell my principal and received hugs from more people than I even remember. 

Sitting at home the next day after all the phone calls were made and no more tears would come, I debated whether I should go back to school for the rest of the week. It was one of my favorite weeks of the year. The week before our holiday break in December. We had special events planned and I always looked forward to giving the kids my handwritten thank you notes for the first semester. 

I made the decision to go back to work for the last 3 days of the term. It was precisely what I needed. The kids had letters and notes to me to lift me up and show that they are there. They showed wisdom well beyond their years. The level of empathy that they displayed at 10/11 years old gives me hope for our world. 

And now I have to let them go without a proper goodbye. School has just been canceled for the rest of the year because of a global health crisis. I don’t question the decision to close the school, but I’m beyond sad. In a year of loss, this one hurts more than just saying goodbye at the end of the year. 

Every year a new group of kids enters my classroom and I work tirelessly to build the kind of place where everyone is included. It's difficult and doesn't always work out as planned, but there is always at least a little bit of success. The kids make friends in my classroom that they keep for a long time (I know this because I Facebook stalk their parents' photos 😝). 

In the end, I am safe at home and everyone in my house is healthy, but that doesn't make it any less painful. I'm still grieving my dad and now I'm adding to that grief the loss of the class that got me through it. I know we are still 'e-learning' and I still get to see their faces and talk to them, but it is not the same. 

So I grieve - 

Their big hugs.

Laughs at my misspelling of names.

Losing my phone AGAIN.

Their drawings and animations.

The one who wouldn't stop reading during my lessons. 

The timekeeper. 

Poems.

Group read aloud after recess.

Recess conversations with the hilarious student that came up with a new theory behind global warming. 

Stories of Brad Pitt's evil plots.
Long hair is for boys and girls. 
That's gay is not an insult. 

Book talks.

Crew Meetings.

Laughing at bad puns.

Donut chairs popping.

Grandma's Underwear.

Alibi.

Field Day. 

Exhibition.

5th Grade Finale.

Room 327

How are you doing today?