the very little I know.

I still have not wrapped my brain around this, which is why I haven't mentioned it. It is also why this will probably be short. A boy from my school died a highly publicized death last week. I did not teach him; we are a small urban middle school, though (an old building, built when middle schools were kept smaller), so everyone seems to know everyone somehow and the effects of tradgedy permeate. He died in a flood, and according to the news, as his parents and siblings watched helplessly. When my husband told me the news, the area of town where a boy had lost his life, my heart began to race. I signed into my work email for the first time this summer, selfishly pleading that it not be from my school, and especially not one of mine. Selfish, yes, but this was my auto reaction. And, when it sunk in that the child wasn't mine, I of course felt no better. Maybe because he his mine; we are all eachother's. I cannot imagine the loss felt by his family, his friends and even his teachers. Teachers love their kids fiercely; I wasn't always even aware of how strongly I felt about my students until something tapped into that well. The humbling moments. The moments that were sweet from the beginning. I remember the last day of classes, the dark cloud that floated over my lonely, child-less room...it hit me, quite suddenly, all of the times that I was not really "there," that my eyes didn't light up, that I didn't get how lucky I was (am). I guess that is what I have to offer now, which seems trite in comparison to what a family in my school community is going through...Of the little control I have, may I renew my view, my appreciation, my compassion for my students. For all people. May I see them in their best light. That is all I know for now. Peace.