Heartache in the Classroom: An unexpected Part II

Valor (noun) – boldness or determination in facing great danger, especially in battle; heroic courage. Synonyms: intrepidity, courage, bravery

Just under two weeks ago, I posted the beginning of a story with the topic of "Heartache" in the classroom. The very next day a different – and far more tragic – story of heartache rocked the suburban town of Newtown,Connecticut. While I still plan on continuing the story of Tala*, I wanted to write an unplanned segment on heartache – and heroism – in the classroom first.

***

Undaunted (adjective) –undiminished in courage or valor; not giving way to fear; intrepid.

On December 14, 2012, a 20 year old man entered Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT, and began shooting. 20 students lost their lives, along with 6 adults. Lost among the stories of tragedy was the story of Victoria Leigh Soto, the 1^st grade teacher who did everything possible to protect her children. She hid them in closets and cabinets and, by many accounts, threw herself in front of her children when the gunman entered their classroom. Her students survived. Sadly, Ms. Soto – only 27 years old – did not. I consider Ms. Soto a hero.

When I read Ms. Soto’s story, I was struck by some of the similarities that she has with another person whom I read about not long ago: Jason Lee Dunham.

1)                  Both have the same middle name (albeit, different spellings)

2)                  Both were in occupations which they served others

3)                  Both received far to little pay for the service they provided

4)                  Both gave their lives protecting others at their job

5)                  Both were in their 20s when they passed away

6)                  Both are heroes to the truest extent

You see, Jason Lee Dunham was a 22 year-old Marine squad leader who jumped on a grenade in Iraq. His actions protected at least two of his fellow Marines from certain death. Corporal Dunham was posthumously awarded the highest honor our country can bestow upon anyone of the armed forces – the Medal of Honor. On his citation it reads,

“By his undaunted courage, intrepid fighting spirit, and unwavering devotion to duty, Corporal Dunham gallantly gave his life…”

It is here where the stories of Jason Dunham, United States Marine, and Vicki Soto, 1^st grade teacher, diverge.

***

I’m a veteran. Proud as I am of having served in the United States Marine Corps – Infantry no less! – I've always been a tiny bit uncomfortable when people have thanked me for my service. Perhaps it is because being recognized alongside combat veterans of Iraq,Vietnam,and WWII seems to make my service somewhat trivial. Or, maybe it is because I only served two years on active duty, spending the other 6 years of my time in the service as a reservist. Either way, I've never considered myself a hero; not on Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day, Independence Day, or any of the other days we use in the United States to recognize the men and women that have served our great nation.

If you were to take a poll of what might be considered ‘heroic’professions, I’d bet that ‘soldier’, ‘police officer’, and ‘fireman’ would all make the top 10. The reason is simple: for each, their job is to protect and serve, and they don’t have to be killed in the line of duty to command that respect. Similarly, I – like all other service members and veterans – am thanked and given respect regardless of how inconsequential we feel our time in the service was. Although I’ll never be comfortable being recognized in the same breath as the Jason Dunham’s of this world, I am comfortable with respect being shown for those that protect and serve others. I am comfortable that this respect stems in part because it is a ‘heroic’ profession. 

Vicki Soto, 1^st grade teacher, had a job description which required her to protect and serve others. She showed uncommon valor in her actions on December 14, 2012. To all of us –especially the 1^st graders and their families of room 10 in Sandy Hook Elementary – Ms. Soto is a hero for her undaunted courage, intrepid fighting spirit, and unwavering devotion to duty. But, here is where opinions might diverge: Victoria Soto was a hero before she selflessly gave her life to protect her class of 6-year olds. She didn't need to give her life for her to gain that respect.

I hope you will all join me to honor Victoria Leigh Soto the same way we honor the other courageous men and women who went above and beyond a hero's call for the sake of serving and protecting others.  Although I am a veteran, I have never been the hero she was during those dreadful moments on December 14, 2012.

***

To the teachers I have known – past, present, and future: I am thankful for your service.

Heartache is Good?

The tears were streaming down 10-year old Tala’s* face, but I wasn’t sure who’s heart hurt worse – hers or mine. 

Do I have a soul?

When the year started I told Lisa* – a 23 year old new teacher who would be joining my team – that I like it when I make my students cry.  She looked at me like I had no soul.  She may have even said it, too (well, maybe not.  I’m pretty sure she thinks I care a lot about my students).  It wasn’t that she couldn’t understand my reasoning:

            “When a child cries because of me, it is because we have built a good relationship, and they have disappointed me.  It’s not that they cry because I’m mean – they cry because they feel bad about something they did.”

But, Lisa is an amazing teacher (I can say that now because I’ve worked with her for a few months now) who loves and cares about children more than just about anyone not named Mother Teresa.  While many of us grew up wanting to be baseball players, doctors, or lawyers, Lisa has wanted to help children learn her entire life.  Seeing children hurt makes her hurt as well, so she couldn’t fathom liking the sight of tears from a child full of remorse. 

One Child’s Story

At the start of every year, I remind myself of what I wanted when I began my venture into public education:  If I could make a difference with just one child each year, I would be happy.  As with most teachers, I often lose sight of those small goals because we want to save them all.  On my most difficult days however, I remind myself of that initial thought and think of a child that I’ve seen grow right before my eyes.  On those days, the mere thought of a child can change my attitude and remind me of why I love my job so much.

This year, 10-year old Tala came into my classroom and was one of many students who told me they hated math.  Unlike most of my students however, she couldn’tbe convinced that math could be fun.  In addition, she disliked reading, talked back to me constantly, and even refused to let me show her different strategies to help her in areas she struggled with.  After 2 conferences with her parents and almost an entire quarter, I was at my wit’s end – she was one of the most difficult students to motivate that I had ever encountered. 

I’m not sure exactly when, but I began to notice subtle changes in her behavior.  Perhaps it was after I helped her find a book that she loved.  Maybe it was after I gave her a high-five when she successfully completed some division classwork that had initially given her trouble.  Or, it could have been when I read her writing aloud to the rest of the class and complimented her writer’s voice before I taught a lesson on how to make good writing even better.  In any case, I was talking to the ELL (English Language Learners) teacher a month ago about our Language Arts class and the topic turned to Tala:

Mr. Lin:                     “We have some really needy kids this year!  I’m pretty worried about them.”

Mrs. P:                       “I know!  But some of them have made great progress.  Like Tala… she’s come such a long way.”

Then, the watershed moment came not long thereafter when she came up to me with her friend:

Tala:                           “Mr. Lin, you’re not as mean as you say you are.  Actually, you’re not mean.  I used to think you were, but you’re not.  You’re actually really nice.”

\          

Mr. Lin (grumpily):  “Hmph.  I’m pretty mean.”

Tala (smiling):            “No, you’re not.”

           

The best of times…

Interims went home to students last week, and on Tala’s I had written,

            “Although her grades don’t fully reflect it, Tala has made significant progress and improvements in her attitude.  If she continues to work hard and keep her positive attitude, I know she will be successful.”

I even called her home yesterday, just so I could tell her parents and sister how proud of her I was.  When I hung up the phone and got in my car to go home, I couldn’t help but smile.  Unfortunately, it was a happiness that was short-lived.

It was the worst of times

The next day, Mrs. P showed me the book reports of two students – one of them was Tala’s:

Mrs. P.:            “These two book reports are the same.  Like, exactly the same, word for word.  They copied each other’s work.”

I couldn’t believe it.  We were determined to get to the bottom of things, and in the process we learned that Tala had read the book and completed the book report, and then wrote the same for her less motivated friend.  Then, it was time to talk to Tala:

            Mr. Lin:         “Do you know why I’m talking with you privately?”

            Tala:               “I think.  I helped Naomi* with the book report.”

I paused for a second, then spoke:

Mr. Lin:         “Tala, you’ve made so much progress this quarter!  I even called your parents yesterday to tell them how great you’ve been this quarter.”

Her large, childlike eyes began to brim with tears as I spoke the words that would hit her like a 10 pound hammer:

            Mr. Lin:         “I told them how proud of you I was.”

The tears were pouring out now like tiny spigots of water.  Her frail body shook as I hugged her, and we both knew no words needed to be said – she was remorseful for her actions, and I was disappointed.  But despite my disappointment, I still loved her.

My heart ached as I left school today and I wasn’t smiling, so did the tears of this remorseful child still bring me joy?

To be continued…

*Names changed