music: Cat Stevens- Cat ‘71-‘75
For the past two years the most important people in my life have been a collection of teenagers. They have, without question, been the recipients of the vast majority of my energy, thought, and time. This has hardly been advertised or mentioned to them and has been largely transparent to the whole stinking lot of them, but it’s nevertheless true. I have put more face time in with them than anyone else. I’ve spent more time thinking about them and talking with them than my own family and friends. I’ve probably received more phone calls from them as a group than everyone else in my life over the past year. I threw everything I had into teaching these teenagers for the past two years, gave so much that I often had nothing left for myself.
They take a lot out of me, suck the soul clean out of me some days, those teenagers. What limited energy I have for social interactions are largely used up after a full day with them. The halls of my workplace are filled with them, teenagers by the dozens, screaming at me and at each other, chasing, singing, wrestling, crying, ganging up, laughing, gossiping, finding excuses, sitting, sleeping, breathing heavily. The unbearable crush of adolescence has been my reality for the past two years. There have been days where I’ve come home and wished the whole thing away because it was just too much to process. Almost every Sunday during the school year, parked in front of a blue binder full of lesson plans and piles of textbooks, I’ve wished I picked something different to do with my time. For the past two years, I have served a collection of teenagers living in the city of Boston, and to be honest I haven’t always been happy about it or because of it.
That all came to an end today. Today was the last day of classes for the school year, and the last official day that I was obligated to teach Boston’s teenagers. And today, on the last day of the school year, I told what students had the motivation to still come to class that I was done. Packing it up, driving West, headed for parts unknown. Despite being the most important people in my life, they were the last to know of my plans that have been hatching in earnest since last August. I’ve known for some time that this would be my last year in Boston, but the news came as a great shock to a lot of them. In true teenager fashion some were indifferent, some angry, some sad, some relieved. And me, outwardly composed, quickly became a blubbering, gelatinous mess as the day wore on and as I told more and more of these human beings that I would be leaving them, moving thousands of miles away, probably never to see them again.
To be fair, the collection of teenagers I taught was the primary reasons why I have remained in Boston for the past two years. In the fall of 2004 it was all anticipation and idealism and curiosity, but now, two very full years later, the story is different. Missa Toss has found his voice and his niche, has established some pretty positive relationships with these teenagers, and by all rights has done some good things as far as schoolling goes. Missa Toss has invested an incredible amount of time, talent, and personal will in eighty-odd young lives, largely to the expense of his own.
I’d like to convienently separate Missa Toss from David but now, at the end of things, I realize that I can’t quite do that. My day-at-the-office has followed me home on a daily basis for the past two years and has irrevocably changed me, probably in ways I don’t yet realize. I’m still struggling to find the words to convey my experience to those teenagers that had the ultimate part in making it what it was, even after I’ll have the opportunity to tell them to their face. As it was with most school days, and despite the weighty news, today’s classes ended with very little fanfare or ceremony. I said some things, wrote on the board for a bit, teenagers awkwardly shuffled out of the room, I awkwardly waved goodbye, and that was that. Missa Toss’s work is done. I am completely deflated.
Tonight was a payoff of sorts-a collection of thirty-odd teenagers from the school in which I taught donned navy blue gowns, traditional mortarboard hats, and walked across the stage to receive diplomas. I had the fortune of working for twenty or so of the graduates this year, and as the school formally sent them out into the world I couldn’t help but quietly celebrate what small part I played in the process. No doubt I’m a minor character playing a bit part in the cinematic sweep of their lives, but looking through the other end of the camera, backwards and inside, the ups and downs of this group of teenagers has defined most of my time for the past two years. The ceremony itself was a perfect representation and celebration of our experiences together: unrehearsed, somewhat awkward, heartfelt, honest, distinctly human. I used to send kids away from camp with much of the same feeling, but this time around, possibly because it was the last time around, things swung into clear and significant focus. Now I can only hope that the time I had with these now high school graduates was spent well, that they all carry even a little bit of whatever message I may have imparted, and that whatever that message will become is something positive. That’s all that can be done at this point. I ducked out of the post-ceremony hobnobbing a little early, unable to confront the crush of humanity at such a late hour. I witnessed students of mine celebrating the first high school graduation of their family, students hugging and clinging to each other knowing full well that everything would change between them after this, students whooping and shouting, students with bleary eyes posing for pictures, students tucking their gown neaty over one arm and walking to the subway alone.
It’s enough to twist your heart clean out of your body and squeeze it until it bursts.
These teenagers, at the end of the day, are very real humans of the highest order, humans with whom I spent much of my time for the past two years. Humans who struggled and progressed, and in doing so enriched my life with struggle and progress. I’ve voluntarily taken the honor of working with such exceptional human beings away from myself, and for the time being I’m going to leave Missa Toss be. He needs to rest. But that doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.
There are some odds and ends to take care of, logistics to work through, exams to grade, desks to clean out, posters to take down, and grades to submit. But for all intents and purposes, I’m done. I’ve given the past two years of my life to the youth of Boston, and despite the difficulties I encountered I’m very glad I did it. Those teenagers…those teenagers. They are sometimes infuriating. They sometimes have the world working against them. They sometimes have suffered more than any person should, they could always have worked harder. They are worth every second.
This one’s for you, should some of you happen to read this. To Angelica, Jamie, Cameron, Marvin, Neptopha, Michael, Stanley, Mary, Anna, Chris, Asiya, Nateia, Sid Marie, Kenny, Corey, Marcus C, Derick, Oliver, John, Dejon, Ariana, Matt, Asadullah, Irakli, Malena, Susie, Marcus W, Julie, Nykole, Jevon, Kimmy, Cassandra, Justin, Sean, Mick, Octavia, Qing, Charles, Enka, Christine, Shanay, Lena, Kristen, Camille, Kelly, (and to my seniors) Vanessa, Janei, Frederick, Bukky, Erica, Jenna, Manny, Danielle, Keshav, Taisha, Monique, Ashley, Michael, Tella, Galicia, Aleyda, Nkenge, Matt, Andrew, Jason, Angela, and to those of you who didn’t make it to the end: my undying thanks and appreciation. It has been an honor working for you. You will be missed. You will not soon be forgotten. Without knowing it, for the past two years you have been the most important people in my life.
Posted by davidtaus at June 12, 2006 09:26 PM | TrackBack