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I Miss Them


They were my introduction to the south. They attempted to teach me the country way of doing things. They trusted me not only in the classroom, but also with honest writing. They came to me when they needed someone to tutor them, offer a kind word or just to listen. We laughed together. We made memories in the classroom. I went back for a visit today.

There is something magical about visiting students of the past. They think back fondly to the time we spent together. The piles of homework I assigned, forgotten. Today when I walked into the lunchroom at Benson Middle School, I was greeted with hugs and smiles. For the thirty minute lunch period, I bounced from table to table. Each table wanting me to stay longer, other tables calling me over. Why were they so happy to see me? I was just another teacher in their lives, some I didn’t even have in class. What made my visit so exciting that they talked about it all morning before I arrived? Why do I miss them all so much?

I have stated on many occasions that I miss working with the kids in Benson. I genuinely like them. Not only are they great kids and fun to teach, I also know how to work with the issues they bring to the table. I have experience helping kids figure out things relating to drugs, sex, abuse, relationships, cutting, gangs, and the list goes on. I am good at it. I am no longer a teacher there, but was given an office to use to help a couple of students through some tough issues they were facing. (I won’t go into details as it is not my story to tell.) Any shadows of animosity I may have been feeling due to being cut, was wiped away with the small action of giving me a time and place to do what I do. Talk to kids when they need it. Thank you, Mrs. Singleton and Mrs. Bazemore.

Students have a way of climbing into my heart and taking up residence. The students of BMS last year did just that. 

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