New Life, New World

I’d like to tell you about something that's happened in my classroom during the past two weeks.

It started with the news I’d be getting a new student. Actually it was two new students, since my teaching partner was getting one as well. A pair of brothers, with a younger sister in a primary class. When teachers learn we're getting new students, we always try to learn as much about them as we can. Are they a boy or a girl? Are they coming from within the school district? Are they coming from out of state? Do they have any special needs? Does the family have a different home language than English? What kind of ability do they have? Do we have any standardized test scores to review before they arrive?

Everything I needed to know this time I found out in just a few sentences: The family is originally from a country in the middle east. They’ve been living in a different country in the middle east for three years, and the kids haven’t had much as far as consistent schooling. They’ve been in America for less than a month and don’t have any English.

This is the kind of scouting report that makes a teacher think, “All right, here we go. Time to roll out the ‘A’ game.”

The kids in class knew enough about the situation ahead of time to be ready for his arrival, and were legitimately excited to meet him. One boy talked about how a new kid had joined his class at his old school, and the class had all worked together to help him learn words in English. Our new student didn’t come to class right away on the first day, since the family first met with building administration, an Arabic interpreter I’ve worked with a few times, and our exceptionally hard-working ESL teacher. Luckily for us each homeroom already had one Arabic-speaking student we could rely on for quick translations, but we all began communicating in simple words and hand motions. The other students were friendly and welcoming, guiding this new boy through the routines of the day the best they could. 

During dismissal, the two brothers quickly found each other as the bus lines started for the office. We made sure we knew which bus to get them on. One of my other boys, who rode the same bus, told me he’d seen their family moving in and knew which stop was theirs. When people tried to escort the boys onto the bus, they opened up in obvious panic, scanning the crowd for their little sister, refusing to get on until she was with them. I went to the front door and waited. She was easy to spot, dressed in the same slightly formal way as her brothers, looking for them with the same panicked expression, and holding hands with her teacher. I crouched down by her, clearly said the names of her bothers, and had her follow me to join them. The boys surrounded her when they saw her, and the three of them got on the bus holding each other. It occurred to me then they had probably been living for three years with a near constant fear of being separated if they didn’t keep close watch of each other. I choked up a little as their bus left, quietly reminding myself that even if I couldn’t teach them everything the same way I was teaching the rest of the class, I could at least be a part of their day when they would feel happy, comfortable, and fed. They would be able to work and play with other kids, they could learn the boundaries they were probably craving, and they could feel safe.

As the days continued, our new fourth grader made some extraordinary leaps in his language acquisition, going from asking other students a pre-coached “What’s your name?” to picking up school-specific vocabulary and useful expressive phrases. He learned how to do things and where to go by observantly emulating his classmates. I went from being someone he would walk up to and stare at with unspoken questions to “Teacher.” As he found that comfort level and made new friends, he turned out to be a little spitfire. During the afternoon of our fall party, he laughed and screamed and played games and danced. The last kids to be dismissed in my room sometimes crawl under the desks and call them forts while they wait for the bell. When he crawled under with them and accidentally farted, the other kids started laughing and he laughed right along with them. 

We kept teaching him with hand motions paired with words the best we could. If he got too excited and had to be corrected, I used simple language with my motions and tone of voice: “No running in here.” “Don’t pinch. That’s wrong.” “Good job!” He picked up on these cues and would nod his understanding, then would stop doing whatever it was as temporarily as any other nine-year-old would. 

We had a math test yesterday that took some kids close to two hours. He didn’t take it. He looked at a picture book for awhile, then I gave him some colored pencils and paper: “You can draw.” He smiled and picked up the pencils, then came up with these two masterpieces: A truck and a happy warrior defending the American flag, and a group of friends in a swimming pool with the American flag hanging overhead.

Based on his pictures, I'd say he thinks America is already pretty great the way it is. 

Today during dismissal, he stood by the door waiting for the bell. Out of nowhere he began quietly singing to himself, some song in Arabic. He looked up, saw me listening, and smiled.

I thought of how much his life had changed in only a month and smiled back, feeling a little privileged that I had the chance to help him transition into a whole new life. 

Twelve Good Things

Occasionally I get to have discussions with my class that step outside of the curriculum. Yesterday we talked about how easy it is to fixate on life's frustrations, and how doing that can negatively affect your mood. I offered an example from my own life of something frustrating me these days, and talked about some of the other things going on that could help me "change my channel" into something more positive. 

We all have our share of frustrations and perplexities to deal with on any given day. Having the most contentious presidential election in modern history dominating the media doesn't help. But that doesn't mean we have to let these problems define every aspect of our lives. 

I've done a few posts before when I've listed ten good things I have going on in life, mostly as a reminder to myself how helpful it can be to acknowledge and appreciate the positives. After our talk in class yesterday, I think it's a good idea for another such list. I don't know if ten will get the job done though, so I'm going to push a little further and come up with twelve:

1. The weather of mid-October. It's sunny and windy with the temperatures staying fairly consistently in the range of the 50s and 60s, which makes this the time of year I can get away with wearing both shorts and sweatshirts, often at the same time. Welcome to my personal meteorological Goldilocks Zone. 

2. This week only has four teaching days. Next week only has two. I've got some time to TV binge coming up. 

3. On one of those days off next week, I'm taking Nephew #2 on a tour of where I went to college. I don't necessarily expect, or even hope, he'll choose that school -- I want him to find the school that will help him find his own best path -- but this will give me the chance to visit my old campus during the time of year I tend to romanticize the most when I think about my college days. 

4. The new albums from Green Day and Alter Bridge are amazing. I've been waiting for them to be released for a long time, and they were both worth the wait. 

5. I have two classes this year that I like very much. One of them is even the smallest class size I've worked with in my twenty-five years. 

6. I'm going to have the dogs visiting me for a couple of weeks coming up soon.

7. There's a big birthday party for my mother and my aunt this weekend. It will largely be a family event. I don't get to see my aunts and uncles and cousins very often during the school year, so I'm looking forward to it. 

8. I've read the first few pages of Bruce Springsteen's new autobiography and I'm looking forward to finishing my current book so I can start it. It reads with the voice I expected it would, and I can't wait to be immersed in that.

9. Seth Meyers is absolutely killing it with his political coverage these days. He is unquestionably the rightful heir to Jon Stewart's vacated late night political humor throne.

10. I had a doctor's appointment last month. It went well.

11. Parent-teacher conferences for the fall are over at our school. Mine went well, and offered some good insights into my students. The worst part of conferences are the long days and the extra work that goes into preparing for them, so I'm glad all of that is over with. 

12. As we get closer to winter and the days grow shorter, I'm not having the blazing sun in my eyes every morning on the drive to school. 

As I thought my way through this list, I realized I could probably come up with just as many negative points that are bothering me, in different degrees. I'm not going to think about that, though. Today I'm just moving forward and thinking about the positives.

Let's see how it works. 

Tending to the Existential Wounds

When I first started thinking about what direction to go with this post, it occurred to me that my sister Erin's death has now happened so long ago that none of my current students have ever shared time on Earth with her, by at least two years. Even though she's been gone that long now, there are still those two big bookend dates marking her birth and death when our family will put aside time to remember her. Of course those days aren't the only times we ever think of her or miss her; I don't think any of us ever get through a day without her crossing our minds at least a few times.

It shouldn't be a surprise that music is one of the emotional triggers that brings me back to her. I had a long collection of songs I relied on while she was sick and following her death, which I've come to associate so heavily with that time that I can't separate them from what I was feeling and going through back then. These weren't just prototypically inspirational songs that could be adopted by anyone (although there were a few like that). These were meaningful songs that served as my companions during that time, the ones I still can't hear without experiencing emotional surges. They're the songs that fill my head with visuals from life, helping me reconstruct memories with a degree of sensory detail I probably wouldn't be able to recall without their help. 

Here are ten notable ones from that list, and why they mattered so much.

In Loving Memory - Alter Bridge
"And now I come home and it's not the same / Feels empty and alone / I can't believe you're gone."
Mark Tremonti, the band's ridiculously talented guitarist, wrote this powerful song after the death of his mother. I think I can safely speak for my sister Jenny when I say that neither us can listen to more than a minute of this song without having the tears start burning into our eyes. 

The Rising - Bruce Springsteen
"Sky of blackness and sorrow / Sky of love, sky of tears / Sky of glory and sadness / Sky of mercy, sky of fear / Sky of memory and shadow / Your burning wind fills my arms tonight / Sky of longing and emptiness / Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life."
If I remember the timeline correctly, Bruce's "The Rising" album, marking his reunion with the legendary E Street Band, was released the summer just before we found out Erin was sick. I was going to see him in concert with some friends weeks after her surgery, silently pleading on the trip down to St. Paul that the show would provide me with some respite from the stress dominating my life, and also offer a generous share of the emotional guidance I had come to expect from his music. He didn't disappoint.

Bartender - Dave Matthews Band
"If I go before I'm old / Oh, brother of mine / please don't forget me if I go."
In a song that I've always interpreted as contemplating mortality, the strongest connection I have to it has always been in that opening line.

The Spirit Carries On - Dream Theater
"Move on, be brave / Don't weep at my grave / Because I am no longer here / But please never let your memory of me disappear."
Taken in context, this song is the emotional culmination of a journey traveled by a character in a landmark concept album. Taken as an independent song, it's practically a hymn. I made sure this came on in the car as I drove my parents home from Erin's funeral.

Jesus of Suburbia - Green Day
"To live, and not to breathe / Is to die in tragedy."
Green Day's "American Idiot" album was released only weeks before Erin's death. I was listening to it nearly nonstop, both because it's a great album and because the anger and frustration that permeates so much of it -- this song in particular -- amplified the fear and depression and hatred for the world I was feeling at that time. On the surface that probably doesn't seem like such a good thing, and in a lot of ways it wasn't. But it also was a great catharsis. 

A Long Day's Life - Kevin Gilbert
"Oh no, I'm lost and all alone / Battered and broken and scarred to the bone / Oh love, you've never been a friend / But if you're still listening I'm here at the end / of a long day's life."
It bothers me that the album this song comes from, "The Shaming of the True," is so obscure that most of the world will never get the chance to know what an incredible work of art it is. This was one of the songs fighting for space in my head throughout our family trip to San Diego, when we brought Erin to see the ocean one final time. (Little known fact: The real-life events that inspired the seemingly unreal climax of "Following Infinity" took place on that trip.)

Don't Give Up - Peter Gabriel
"Rest your head, you worry too much / It's gonna be all right / When times get tough, you can fall back on us / Don't give up."
This song has a great back and forth between a depressed and discouraged Peter Gabriel beating himself down, and another singer (Kate Bush on the studio version, Paula Cole on the live one) pointing out how much love and support there was around him, if he would only bother to acknowledge and accept it. I tried to use this song to encourage Erin when she first learned she was sick. I didn't see how much it applied to me just as much until years later.  

Solitary Soul - Spock's Beard
"Got a lot of breezes left to blow / Where I'm going I don't know / Got a lot of heartache I don't show / What it's like, you'll never know / To be the solitary soul." Listening to this song was like a tuning fork for my sadness. Again, it's part of a concept album and sung by characters telling a story, but I related to the themes far too well. All the time I spent putting up walls to keep people at a distance during this part of life, this song would show what it sounded like inside of that. It's also worth mentioning that during the second to the last night of Erin's life, Jenny and I sat up all night watching over her so our mother could get some sleep. We looked through a guidebook provided by the church to choose which readings should be used at her funeral. We chose the first one because it was about sheep and Erin liked sheep, and we chose the second because Charlie Young had read it at Mrs. Landingham's funeral on "The West Wing." The only other clear memory I have of that night, other than being the last time in my life I was alone with my two sisters, was listening to this song on my iPod and feeling it at the core of my being.

Stranger in Your Soul - Transatlantic
"There, walking into walls, piercing through the pain / Here we are, reaching through the rain / I almost caught a glimpse, brighter than the sky / A child grown, a stranger coming home." It's just too hard to quantify the importance of this song. Whenever I think about existential healing, I think of "Stranger in Your Soul" as where the idea originated, at least for me. It's a song with several parts to it (it's length shows up in iTunes as exactly thirty minutes) that goes through so many melodies and themes it's really more accurate to call it a composition instead of a song. While so many of the songs on this list were about dragging emotions like sadness or anger to the surface so they could be confronted, this one was purely about healing.

Running to Stand Still - U2
"You gotta cry without weeping / Talk without speaking / Scream without raising your voice."
This song has always been more about the overall tone than the specific meaning for me. If you've never heard it and you're curious what the musical expression of watching someone you love have to suffer would sound like, find it online and give it a listen. 

My memory of Erin is still so strong that my mind will often trick me into thinking about her as an active presence in my life, much in the way I have so many friends and family who live long distances away and I only get to see or talk to infrequently. But then I'll remember that in the cases of those people I still have the option and opportunity to catch up with them, and that isn't the case with her. That realization comes back with the same sinking feeling it always has, even this many years later. But not with the same gravity it once did. 

Even if she isn't here anymore though, she still is an active presence for me. As long as I hang on to my idea of her and have clarifying memory triggers like the songs I've listed above, she'll stay that way.