Haunted

I remember every moment of my early days of teaching. The faces of my kids, the lessons, the parents…all burned in my memory for various reasons. But in the dark recesses of my mind, what are the memories that haunt me? Who do I remember MOST vividly?

The students I failed…failed miserably, even. Twenty years later, I can go back to a moment and feel tremendous regret that I quite possibly destroyed someone’s self-esteem and spirit.

One boy in particular weighs heavily on my heart. I can still feel the heat of a June day as I stood in the back of the church at graduation practice. This boy was on my LAST NERVE…and I was wound tight. Just finishing my last year of my first full-time position, I was just barely holding it together. I had only sort of figured out what to do every day, had gotten these kids through the school year and their Confirmation preparation and mass, was closing in on my first graduating class from the Catholic K-8, and was planning my wedding.

(What young woman doesn’t lose her mind while planning a wedding???)

By the way, that wedding? It was scheduled for two weeks after the last day of school. TWO WEEKS! To say that I was overwhelmed and stressed is a huge understatement. Much of the time, I had NO IDEA what I was doing, and losing control of my class was one of my biggest fears. I felt the need to assert myself at every opportunity, and I was desperate to keep a handle on everyone and everything.

So…back to that moment at church. It was the end of a long hot day…the end of the school year for the 8^th grade…the last chance I had to create a lasting impression. And this boy was doing the unthinkable – HAVING FUN. That’s right…he was cracking jokes, smiling, distracting his friends…all while I was frantically trying to line them up in order from shortest to tallest so we could practice processing into church.

I lost my mind. I dragged him out of line by the arm, pulled him to the back of linw, and spoke through clenched teeth in irrational anger.

“I don’t want to HEAR YOU, I don’t want to SEE YOU, I don’t want to SENSE YOU IN MY AURA! You are a DISAPPOINTMENT, and I’m ASHAMED to know you!”

Ouch.

You read that correctly. I told him I was ashamed of him…for what? Talking out of turn?? Are you kidding me? Today, if one of my kids was guilty of the same, I’d probably walk up to him/her and mock swat him upside the head, Leroy Jethro Gibbs style (NCIS reference). I’d glare menacingly, then crack up in laughter, unable to pretend that I was truly angry.

But back then? I was young. Stupid. Insecure enough that I thought exercising my authority over a 14 year old boy was going to establish me as his superior in all ways…that I would be defined by my ultimate power over him.

It makes me a little bit sick to think I did that.

Today, I rarely lose my temper. And when I do…my kids know they’ve really stepped in it.

I have also established a favorite kind of boy to teach. They are the ones just like that boy from so long ago…the ones who are a little bit out of line…a little too spirited…too unmotivated to do what they’re told. Ultimately, they are the ones who have some burden on their soul, something that they’re compensating for with the humor and ‘bad’ behavior. I want to help them…bring them to the fullest of their potential.

I want to erase the damage I did to the boy from twenty years ago. I wish I could take it back. It’s on my mind more often than seems reasonable, especially at this time of year when we trek over to a similar church to practice a similar ceremony. I wonder what happened to him…if he remembers that moment, too, and hates me for it.

I remember everything. And I hope I’m forgiven for the worst of it.