As I read the news of a teenager in the city being killed I was (and still am) furious and sad. I thought about this teenager and how it didn’t matter which high school he went to or whether he was in a gang or not. I didn’t care about any of that. I cared that he was a kid who was now dead. I cared that another human had shot him. And then I started wondering where we let them both down – the killer and the deceased.
When did we kick that kid out of class for being asleep or disengaged or reckless? When did we decide to suspend him? When did we toss him aside because he wasn’t going anywhere?
And which kid am I talking about here? The killer? The deceased? it doesn’t matter. They are both ours, the responsibility is ours. Our job is to love and care about each and every kid that comes into our school, not just our classroom. We are to work for each kid to get the best education they can get and if we can’t give it to them, then we find the people who will.
I am saddened by this and I am feeling more urgent than ever. I’m watching as our students move on without the skills they need, without the connection they need, without the information they need. How do we move the system that was built to keep so many down and out? How do we find the tools necessary to help all of our students get what they need?
I wrote about relationships the other day and I think about the relationships that I have with my students. That the connection I have worked hard to bridge might be the connection that helps them through difficult situations. That the connection might be the way for them to see out. I am certainly not the answer to all situations, nor should I be, but I am hoping that my students are finding some hope within the adults in their lives due to the connection I attempt each day.
How do we show adults that restorative justice isn’t “touchy feely” or rather that it is “touchy feely” but that’s really what matters to being a human? How do we show that the work is never done but we can also rest? How do we push through to show students that their lives do matter?
I am bumbling through this and it’s difficult to put into words what I’m feeling and yet I fear that if I don’t share this urgency and this frustration, I won’t know who else is feeling similarly, I won’t know who’s connection I need. This work is impossible alone and finding your tribe within this frustration is even harder.
So next time, when you’re frustrated with a student, when you’re looking to send them away, stop. Take a minute. Take a deep breath. And find within yourself that urgency, that passion, that love that each kid needs so desperately.
lizzie fortin 