My drive to work has been extremely difficult these past two days.
Cheerless, at a time of year when it should be full of cheer.
I can't wrap my head around it. I just can't fathom it. I know what happened on Friday was hundreds of miles away- not that it matters. But it doesn't feel that way.
I know those hallways, those vinyl floors, those cinder block walls.
I know what it sounds like, what it smells like, what it looks like.
I know those teachers and staff.
I know those children.
At least I feel like I do.
My heart just aches.
The
funny thing is, once I get to work the kids cheer me up. I know it's
my job to teach and guide and counsel my students. But sometimes I feel
like the tables are turned. And I am the one who is being comforted.
It's a pretty amazing job. I don't ever want to forget that.
I
have also found comfort in prayer. I am praying for the families who
lost and praying for those who survived. I am praying for the school
and its faculty. And I'm praying for change. Big change.
This is not meant to be a political
post. Just contemplative. Writing this post was therapeutic. I didn't feel like I could write the post
about some crafty Christmas nonsense I had planned to write this week.
I hope we can all find our way forward.
Thank you for this post. I have been thinking about all teachers and students and parents this week. It is a sacred relationship that we as a community have with our children. Thank you for all that you do.
ReplyDeleteI hear you on that. It's the ever-present thought in all the staff and parents minds at our school... Strange how much it change the impact when it was such young children. Like you, I'm looking for comfort in the little things - my students, random acts of kindness from parents, and the hope that it will lead to positive change!
ReplyDeleteThis has been on my mind quite a bit, though I haven't written a post about it. It is very difficult to find the words to express what is floating around in the brain. So I have been avoiding saying anything. When things bother me that is just my way. And the images in your post express more than my words ever could... So thank you. I don't know why, but it helps.
ReplyDeleteI almost didn't write this post. And I was still tentative even after I hit "publish." But I'm glad I did. I'm not the best writer in the world so I feel like the pictures I took speak (hopefully) louder. Thanks for the comment.
DeleteThanks for sharing... it can't be easy. I don't think a more eloquent post could have been written - like our favourite skater/sewist says - a picture says a thousand words, and the pictures you've posted here talk loud and clear.
ReplyDeletei hope so too. thank you for being a teacher.
ReplyDeleteThis must be a very hard time for all teachers right now. I am glad your pupils are a comfort to you, sometimes we can be comforted by even the littlest person!
ReplyDeleteWe have a tradition in New Mexico, on Christmas Eve, where we light farolitos (or luminarias depending on who you ask, here is an article http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luminaria), which are supposed to guide the way for Mary and Joseph to the stable where Jesus will be born. This year, we will be writing the names of the victims on our farolito bags, and lighting the candles for them.
ReplyDeleteThank you for being a teacher, I don't think we can ever thank teachers enough.
That sounds beautiful.
DeleteMy heart is still aching. I keep praying.
ReplyDeleteI think this is weighing on everyones minds this week. Even all the way over here in Australia we are thinking of those families and what they are going through. My sister in law is a primary school teacher and I can't imagine how we would be feeling if this had happened to her and her school.
ReplyDeleteI listen to NPR while I sew and since I have tons of orders to try to finish before the holidays, I've been listening a lot. And my heart has just felt so heavy, I keep choking up while I listen to news of another funeral, or more details on the event. On Friday, I left two emotions in tandem: grief and gratitude. Grief for the families and for all that was lost, and overwhelming gratitute for the teachers who protected their kids and stopped an awful event from being even worse. And I know what you mean about kids giving reassurance - my daughters don't know (too young), but they've somehow done small things that have made me feel better. I received an email from my PTA association that the Sandy Hook PTA is requesting snowflakes to decorate the school with when the students return in January. I'm so glad to have something to do that might restore a little wonder to the innocence that has been lost. Thanks for your post.
ReplyDeleteI just looked up the Sandy Hook PTA and got the information for sending in snowflakes. Thanks for that information!
DeleteThanks for writing this, Liza Jane. I don't feel like I can wrap my head around all this and then yesterday a STAFF MEMBER brought a gun to my son's grade school. The madness has to stop. Keep praying that change does have to come and keep writing posts like this.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this post. All I can do is echo your sentiments-- I'm praying for everyone involved, and praying hard for change. It's all so heartbreaking.
ReplyDeletei can't keep watching the news about what happened. it's too overwhelming. thank you though for the lovely pictures. it's like i can hear giggles and chairs shuffling and crayons rolling into one another and it made me smile.
ReplyDeleteI can't even say anything, it's too raw and horrible. This was lovely.
ReplyDeleteI couldn't write anything about it; What can you say? There are no words to make it understandable or solvable. In a perfect world, such a thing should never exist or even be thought of, but this world is far from perfect. I'm glad that the kids you teach can help you feel better.
ReplyDeleteOnce you become a mother, you have a constant reminder of how precarious life is. It is a struggle to let your children out of your sight without at least a little spark of concern. I used to roll my eyes at overprotective parents, but it was out of an immature misunderstanding that parents want to control their kids. In reality, it is the primative instinct to protect them from the big bad world. It gives you a greater urge to make the world a big good place, anyway you can.