Wednesday night, I lost a student. He did not drop out, he did not move to another city or state, he did not transfer to another school, he was not suspended, he was not expelled – he was shot and killed not far from his house.
He was a 9th grader, he was 16, he was opinionated, he was immature, he was a class clown and disruptor.
He was also a son, cousin, nephew, student and a child.
His death is a reminder to me to take the students as they come and love them, nurture them, redirect them, discipline them, teach them, be a role model for them, cry for them and pray for them.
We have no control over what happens outside of our classrooms, so we must make the most of the time that we spend with them. Tuesday I told him that he had to record a poem for me and asked him what he would say if someone handed him a microphone and gave him an audience. He thought for a minute and then he tried to take the computer to start recording. I told him that he had to plan it out first. I told him to keep it clean and he did the best that he could: he paused for a curse word and he used screw instead of the other word he wanted to use. The lyrics are hard to understand but the gist is: life is hard, girls are looking for baby wipes for their babies, he hears the clink of handcuffs and people are doing wrong instead of doing right. He rapped about what he knew and I let him record it. I let him record it because it was the only assignment that he wanted to do in weeks. I took advantage of his engagement and pushed him to complete the assignment.
I made him write out the rap, revise the rap and practice saying the rap. And he did because he felt as though he had a story to tell. It was important to him so I let him tell it. He composed this: Mike’s Tales from the Hood.
That was Tuesday and Wednesday he was gone. Who knew it would be the last story that he would tell me. I am glad that I gave him the mic.
My Scholars are..
2 Comments