I met him today after many years.
We were out in the community, doing the long awaited Terry Fox Run. I walked with the different classes, and took pictures as I went through the quiet neighbourhood. 9 years in this place and I marvel at the peaceful company of the students and many colleagues who have shared this journey with me. When I first started working here, some of the students I now teach, and who tower over me had not even stepped into kindergarten. The ones who recently graduated had perhaps just learned to write their names. That's how long it has been. And as I wandered the paths coming back to the beloved building, I met him again.
He was talking to his grade 8 teacher, I had taught him the previous year. He has grown. He smiles now, he even has a smile in his voice. I was bringing up the rear and I waited with him, the others went on. I stood there with him perched on his bike and we chatted a little of this and that. We did not speak of many things. I know I remembered most of them. And I was absolutely delighted to hear that he has completed grade 12 and after taking a year off, is headed to college.
I had said to him once long ago that I had two of him in my class: One who was very smart, and the other who was terrified I'd find out. I am glad that he persisted, though to get this far I am sure there were many who worked tirelessly and lay awake late nights to pray. He asked about his other teachers, my brothers who have now travelled far to touch other lives. One has returned to touch some lives closer home. I promised to tell them about him and that he was well.
In the days when I had lost touch, I would think of him often: was he one that I had let down, not done enough for, not followed through on something....
It is soul work, this teaching and learning. It is reciprocal transformation. I am not a catalyst that by definition affects a reaction but does not participate in it: I participate with all my heart and I am renewed everyday.
"You should have pushed me some more, Miss", he said. " I did" I replied, " As much as you would allow me. Then you went off" I reminded him.
With disarming honesty, he smiled. "Yeah, but I remembered. I appreciate all that you did for me" he said.
We shook hands, I think. And he said, very honestly and truthfully: "Time, it flies". At 18 he knows that.
On this overcast day, with the clouds of confusion and discord looming over the collective future of educators, I needed this sunshine.
As I saw him ride away, a humongous bottle of pop tucked under his arm, with a baseball cap matching his shoes, I smiled and my shimmering eyes saw only golden, glowing, glorious hope.
I am here and I return, because he matters, they all matter.
Someday, this too shall pass. And I squared my shoulders and walked back home... to Cedarwood.
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