When you lose a student

Three years ago I lost a former student when he drowned during a Memorial Day weekend swimming trip. He was out with friends and laughingly went into the pond and then within seconds, he disappeared under the water. He did not know how to swim and had gone into water that was too deep. They dove for him but couldn’t find him in time.

I got a call from another teacher who had heard the news and had known she needed to reach out to me to be sure I knew before we got into work. I just sat there stunned.

I met Three when he was a newly arrived 3rd grader who spoke very little English. He was all knees and elbows, gangly and goofy with a smile that lit up the room and a sense of humor that always made him the center of attention in the best possible way. He knew everyone and everyone knew him. His mother was a sweet woman with a new baby and we met at the first PTA meeting of the year. Over the years I left Elementary and move to Middle School, and when he moved up to sixth grade we met again.

Teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites but this family was just one that found it’s way into my heart and my life. They helped me with yard work and I helped them with paperwork and references. One day there was a knock on my door and a teary-eyed mother had her son in tow because she was at her wit’s end because he was hanging out with people who were influencing him to make bad choices. Make no mistake, Three was no angel, he was a complex young man who was trying to navigate some very difficult times and he didn’t always make good choices or keep his focus on the future. So she brought him to my door. We spent the afternoon brainstorming, working on finding him a job, and reaching out to contacts who could help him get back into school.

Which is pretty much the point in his life he was at when he went swimming that day.

I’m still deeply saddened at the loss of him as a child, but losing him when he hadn’t had the chance to make choices as an adult breaks my heart. Maybe he would have made bad ones and maybe his story wouldn’t have ended well, but maybe he would have figured out who he was and it would have ended well and happily. I like to believe that would have been the outcome. I’m a glass half full kind of person, what can I say?

When I heard he was gone I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t think straight. Over the next two days I reached out to his friends who were also former classmates and we agreed to meet at the wake. I was going and they were going so it wasn’t necessary, but I wanted to be sure they had someone to talk to if they needed to. On the day of the wake we met and cried together and I hope they found as much solace in being there together as I did. Then I saw his mother. I have never before heard someone scream like that. She was in so much pain that it physically hurt me. She hugged me and collapsed into my arms and just screamed over and over again. She had no words. And I understood. I didn’t feel it like she did of course, but I understood. The sadness I felt was so deep it made me nauseous. I just held her up and held her until some of her family came to get her. I hope that I never see that level of raw soul-crushing despair ever again and I sincerely hope that nobody I know ever has to feel that level of pain.

I learned many lessons from Three and his family. How powerful unconditional love, like his mother had for him, can be. How hard it is to watch a child you’ve known for over a decade laid out in a casket. How resilient kids are who live in a city impacted by poverty and trauma…and so many more. But the lesson I learned about myself is that the way I bond with my students, not all but some, means that when something happens they have someone there who knows them and that they can trust to be there for them. I try at least. I hope I succeed. I always try to remember I’m not teaching content, I’m teaching kids. Also, I remind myself to love ‘my kids’ for who and what they are, not who people want them to be, and I truly do. I hope they know that.

Thank you Three.