I recently found out that one of my favorite students from last year (let's call her Karen here) is pregnant.
Some of my kids this year were talking about how they never see one of their friends anymore, since he dropped out, got his GED, and started working. I like to try to get to know my students as much as I can, and so I asked them more about the situation.
"Ever since he knocked up his girlfriend, Karen Jones, he ain't been around."
As soon as I heard the name, my heart sank a little. Karen was by no means the brightest student in my class, but she was a really sweet girl, she worked hard, and I liked her a lot. In fact, she was one of the people I was most looking forward to seeing at graduation, and the one I was most disappointed with not running into. Now I know why she wasn't there.
It's not that I think Karen will be a bad mother; honestly, if any 18 year old girl is capable of being a good mother, Karen is probably the most likely candidate. She is likely to have the support of her family, she is compassionate and interested, and she is a genuinely good person interested in the welfare of the world. I am just sad for her and all the things that I feel that she will now probably be forced to miss out on in her life. She showed some interest in traveling - she asked me about places I'd been and places I wanted to go, asked what kinds of things you can do and learn abroad. It seems unlikely that an unwed teenage mom with a boyfriend with a GED will get to see much of the U.S., let alone Europe or Asia. Her chances of going to college and enriching herself through education seem slim. I also got the impression that Karen was a little bit more sophisticated and cosmopolitan than many of her classmates, and I had hopes that she would be able live a life that satisfied that part of her. While it's not set in stone, I kind of get the feeling that where she is now will kind of be her life from here on out. I'm glad that her boyfriend has not abandoned her and is fulfilling his responsibilities and taking ownership, but I also feel bad for him. I don't really know the kid, but I think it's probably safe to say that "be a father" wasn't on his list of things to do before turning 18.
I've wondered if it would be appropriate for me to contact my former student and say something to her. Like I said, she was definitely one of my favorites, and I want to make sure that she's doing alright. I could imagine her not dealing with the stresses of pregnancy and the prospect of the rest of her life so well. But honestly, I wouldn't know what to say. First of all, I haven't talked to the girl in 7 months. More importantly, it's not like there is anything I can really do - What I want to do is express sympathy, but that doesn't really seem appropriate. Maybe she is excited at the prospect of being a mom, and even if she isn't, it certainly won't help anything for me to tell her that I'm sorry this thing happened to her and that her life may as well be over. I'm sure that's too cynical a view - there is plenty of time left in her young life to enjoy many things in this world, but she won't have the opportunities that she might have had otherwise. I feel like any effort I might make to reach out would be at best patronizing, and at worst implying that her pregnancy is some sort of curse.
The thing I really love about my job is also turning out to be something that will probably be really hard in my life. I have the pleasure of meeting and getting to know all of these really great kids. They become a part of my life, and hopefully I become a part of theirs. It's gratifying to hear a student say that something I did in class influenced his or her life. It feels wonderful.
But this situation also highlights the fact that after a short time, these kids are gone from my life, just as I am gone from theirs. I would love to keep in touch with all of them, but the fact is I have trouble remembering the names of kids I taught less than two years ago. Of course, some stick out - there are students like Karen that I will probably remember for the rest of my life, but even with those students, I may never have any contact with them again. Memories are great, but it's difficult to realize that most of these great people I work with every day are just fleeting parts of my life.
I genuinely like my students; even the ones that are a pain in the ass in class have positive qualities, and nearly all of them are people that I really enjoy getting to know. I dislike the fact that in 5 years I probably won't have a clue what is going on in most of their lives. Of course, it would be entirely unreasonable to expect that I would be a big part of every kid's life for the rest of his life, but that's kind of what a part of me wishes sometimes. I look back and remember my teachers, and I wonder how many of them remember me. I wonder if they want to remember me. If it would feel good to know what all of their former students are up to, or if it would just be too overwhelming to try to keep up with that amount of information. Practicality limits what we can know, but I think that I would love to be able to keep tabs on 20 years of students, and continue to have personal relationships with all of them.
I hope Karen is doing alright now, I hope that she does alright in the future, and that all of my students have long and fulfilling lives. I want the best for every single one of them, because I get to know them in a way so much more personal than I ever thought that I would. I hope that some of them decide to stay in touch, that I continue to have such an interest in their development, and that they can remember something that I taught them. I hope they remember that I cared about them when they were in my room, and that they know I keep caring about them after they leave. I hope that my students live lives that influence others to do good, and that they feel as fulfilled by whatever they choose to do as I do by teaching.
No comments:
Post a Comment