strangerthan

Last Monday, one of my students hanged himself.  Wednesday morning, before the first bell, one of my colleagues entered my classroom to share the horrific news.  Since then, we have been grieving as a group.

Teaching in my little school (three teachers, one counselor and thirty students) has been a unique experience - but the uniqueness has never felt as sharp as this last week.  We knew Alveino.  We knew him well.  We visited him and we called him.  We checked up on him.  He trusted us - and no one else.  Alveino was alone, save his school family.  We knew he was troubled.  But we couldn’t stop him.

It is a painful experience to care about someone, and yet not be able to control them.  Not be able to keep them safe.  Yet in the tragedy, remarkable things have happened.  I have seen a marginalized group of students pull together as a family and care for each other with fierce determination.  I have seen adults model grief for students in very real, authentic ways.  I have seen a group of adults pull together to support one another rather than give in to the temptation to remain “professional”.  The entire experience has been messy, but that is because we loved Alveino.  To tie up our emotional experience in a neat little package would devalue his life and his worth. 

Today, I sat in a group grief counseling session with my colleagues.  I was proud of their emotional honesty.  I have been encouraged to see us pull together, bound by our sadness.  Our students are fortunate to have such a diverse, caring group of teachers who are committed to them well beyond the classroom.  I only wish all high school students could have that same experience.

I am experiencing grief in a profound, daily way.  His seat is empty.  We feel his void every single day.  Alveino knew that I cared about him, and I am so glad that he heard me say it out loud.  I enjoyed so many things about him and will miss him deeply.