Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

A few days ago I received an email from a former student that she is dropping playing ball because she doesn’t want to be yelled at any more by her coaches, or told that she is lazy when she is not feeling well.

Yesterday I spoke with a friend who told me that a boy, who should be starting eighth grade in two weeks, committed suicide a week ago. Over the past year, one boy in the high school where I teach committed suicide; one boy in my daughter’s middle school committed suicide; and the high school-aged son of a friend’s colleague committed suicide. All four of those boys hanged themselves. Over the past year I am aware of two girls who attempted suicide, and two others who were cutting themselves (as if there is a real distinction).

One boy had just broken up with his girlfriend. The other had a girlfriend, and a big—intact—family, and a drug problem. The parents of one of the girl’s were playing tug-of-war on her heart in their post-divorce world. Two of the girls did not fit the thin-girl standard.

I can’t connect one girl’s being fundamentally aggrieved because she was belittled and disrespected by her adult coaches and these suicides and attempted suicides, but they paint a grim picture of our youth and how they view our world. And perhaps, how they feel they are treated by us—the adults in their world.

But then there’s the boy who was partially paralyzed after he dove into the waves on a summer day at the beach with his family. Students in his school and other schools in the area have been holding drives to raise money for his care. I’m just wondering how it is that some kids find and sustain a purpose and others don’t.

With a new school year starting in one week, I’m hoping that I find it in me to shut my mouth unless something kind and helpful can be made to a student. And I am hoping that I don’t write comments on students’ papers that can be perceived as overly harsh. I know none of these devastating events were my fault, but we all need to take responsibility for our words and our actions and realize that kids are sensitive and they don’t have adult-mood filters. And they certainly aren’t proficient in analyzing my sarcasm. Yes, this year I need to be a kinder, gentler teacher. Maybe I am learning something from my students.