Marty started teaching with high hopes. She saw herself as a shining figure, looked upon with awe by her students. She thought she could make a difference in the world. She imagined that she would be surrounded by adoring little faces, asking for hugs and fighting each other for the chance to hold her hand.
Then reality intervened. First of all, she was a new teacher. New teachers get their pick neither of schools nor of grades. You get what you're given, and in this economy, you're happy to get whatever you are given. So Marty--Ms. Banks--was given a sixth grade class in an area of town that was not the best.
Things didn't start off well, and they went downhill from there. Her dreams of teacherly bliss soon faded, to be replaced by the understanding that this was a war zone. Her students didn't want to be there, and she didn't really want them there, either. They were not very nice. They were foul mouthed, they cheated, and some of them smelled bad. Oh, there were two or three who had a ready smile for "Teacher", but most of them said little and worked less. Within a week, Marty was sure she'd made a mistake. By the end of the first month, she realized that teaching wasn't for her. By the end of the first semester, she decided that she had to quit. She hated to do it to her students, but honestly, they would be better off with a teacher who cared. So right before Christmas break, she went to the principal, Mr. Evans, and explained that she wanted out.
Mr Evans reminded her that she had a contract. However, he said, he would disregard it if, in return, she would do one thing for him. She could leave without breaking her contract if she would first give each of her students a home visit. Marty was immediately struck by the thought of what kind of homes these students must live in, what kind of neighborhoods, but before she could say a word, Mr. Evans said that he'd been to every home in the school. He promised her that she would be safe. The parents knew that she was a teacher, and they would make sure of it.
Marty didn't want to do it, but she knew that she was being offered a deal that was more than generous, so she agreed. That very afternoon, she made her first visits. She decided to start off easy, so she visited the house of two sisters who had asked to be placed together. The house was poor but neat, and the parents--both unemployed--were nonetheless very careful to make sure that their children were clean and minded their manners. It was a very nice visit. The next day, she visited a few more houses, then a few more, then a few more.
As the week progressed, she ran out of "good" children to visit and started to visit the ones that gave her problems. First was Enrique. He never did his homework, never paid attention, and always seemed to be talking to another student beside him. When Marty rang the bell, a woman in a long dress and a shawl answered. Her coal black hair hung in a braid behind her, and when she saw Marty, she immediately called for her son. Enrique came to the door along with a little sister holding a baby. They looked on shyly as Enrique said, "Teacher! You come see me?" Marty said that she was only here to say "Hi," to the family; that he wasn't in trouble. Enrique said, "Oh, my mom no speak English so good." Marty spoke some Spanish, and she and the mom chatted about her children, her husband in Mexico, and about Enrique. She thanked her over and over for coming--no other teacher ever came to visit--only Mr. Evans. As she talked, Marty watched Enrique interact with his sisters. He was so gentle, so patient with them! He never uttered a word of English--they all spoke Spanish. Understanding dawned--"Enrique, when you talk to the other students in class, what do you talk about?" Enrique explained, "I still no speak English so good, and I talk to my friends. You talk a little fast, but they help me." Marty smiled and said that it was fine for Enrique to ask his friends for translation. She said goodbye to the mother and went to the next house on the list--Bozie's house.
Bozie was never clean. He came to school, yes, but he didn't seem ready to work. He slept half the time, and the rest of the time he acted out--calling out questions, getting close to her and just standing there, jus tlittle stuff. He was big and never seemed to wear clean clothes, and Marty thought that maybe he had some special needs. Bozie's dad opened the door. "What do you want?" he said. "I'm Bozie's teacher, and I am paying all my students a visit over Christmas. I just wanted to introduce you and say hello. "Bozie really likes your class," he said. He's out at the store right now. I"m disabled, and Bozie helps me out a lot around the house. It's been hard on us for the past few years--his mom died right after I broke my hip at work, and things just haven't felt right since. He'll be sad he missed you. He talks about you all the time. It's really hard, you know, raising a boy on your own, but Bozie is a good kid, He's been slow since his mama died, but the doctor tells me that happens when kids go through trauma. She died in a car accident--did I tell you that?
Marty left the house before Bozie's dad could see her cry. As she continued her visits, she realized that the only person with a problem at the school was her. The other students had problems, yes, but she had not realized that and hadn't tried to help in any way.
When she came back to the principal the week after Christmas, she told him that she'd changed her mind. She wanted to stay. The principal told her that he had not doubted that. Sometimes we had to remember that we were here to serve. It is hard to know how to serve if you don't know who you're serving. When second semester started, Marty had a different attitude. No, things didn't magically improve, but Marty's attitude did. Now she understood. The answer to her problem wasn't a new job--or more discipline--nor was it better classroom management. The answer to her problem was love. Love those that are put in your path, and that love will be paid back a thousandfold. It was a lesson she never forgot. And every Christmas from then on, Marty made it a point to visit her classes. It was a labor of love.
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