nowmystudents。Massesofawkwardseventhgradersswarmthehallsofmyruralmiddleschooleachday,haulingbackacksoveroneshoulder,talkingandshufflingalongthetilehallwayfloorfromclasstoclass。Iwatchthemlikeageneralfrommyost,myclassroomdoor,andsmileatthefactthatIcancalleachonebyname。Iknowtheirsecrets,theirstories。Doraslouchesandisshy,andIknowitisbecauseshesendsallhertimeathometryingnottogetnoticed,soshewon’tfeelthebruntofherstefather’sangryhand。Jaycanitchlikeatenthgrader,andallthegirlsswoonwhenheandhisblondhairstrutby,butIknowhedoesn’treallyevenlikebaseballthatmuchhelaysbecausehisdadwantshimtoandheistooscaredtoaskoutthegirlhelikes。ThekidsthinkKeithisjusttheclassclown,butIknowofhisdreamstobecomeanastronautandI’verecommendedhimforsacecam。IknowmystudentsbecauseIamtheirwritingteacher。TheytrustmewiththeirstoriesandsoIamgiventherivilegeofhavingasecretbondwitheachandeveryoneofthem。Iteachmystudentsabouttheowerofwords,andItrytoletthemfindreleaseandexressionthroughwriting。Welearntotrusteachotherinwritingclassbecausewelearnhowharditistowriteoenlyandhonestly,andwelearnthatsharingyourwordstakescourage。Iseecourageeverydayinmyclassroom,andIamalwaysamazedatthewordsthatcomefrommystudents’hearts。Onesuchexamleofcouragetooklaceduringauthor’schair,asharingsessionattheendofourwriter’sworkshoinwhichstudentsvolunteertosharewhattheyhavewritten。
Wehadanewstudenttotheschool,Al。Alwassmalland,withhisdimledcheeksandbabyface,helookedyoungerthanhisclassmates。Infact,whenAlwasfirstintroducedtotheclasstwoweeksearlier,onestudentsaid,“You’renotintheseventhgrade。You’reababy。”Tothat,Alquicklyresonded,“I’mAlBillslington,andIamintheseventhgrade。”Desitehisobviouscourage,Alhadbeenwithusforonlyashortwhileandwasstilltryingtofitin。SoIwasalittlesurrisedwhenhevolunteeredtoreadduringauthor’schair。Ihadoneofthoseteachermoments,whenIsmiledandnoddedforhimtoread,whileinsideIsaidasilentrayerthattheotherstudentswouldnotteasethenewkidafterheread。Theroomfellsilent,andAlbegantoread。“IfIhadonewish,itwouldbetomeetmydad。。。”Hestartedoutloudandclearandheldtheattentionofmyusuallyrestlessseventhgradersashereadonforwhatseemedlikefifteenminutes。Hetoldofhowhehadneverknownhisfather,whohadleftthefamilywhenAlwasababy。
Hesharedtheintimatedetailsofhisstrugglestobetheonlymaninthehouseatsuchayoungage,ofhavingtomowthelawnandfixbrokenies。Herevealedtousthethoughtsthatracedthroughhismindconstantlyaboutwherehisfathermightbeandwhyhemighthaveleft。Myeyesscannedtheroomforsnickeringfacesofseventh-gradekidswhoIknewwereronetojumataweaknessandtrytocrackajoke,buttherewerenosnickers。Therewerenorollingeyesorgesturesinsinuatingboredomorendingattacks。Allofmyseventh-gradestudentswerelistening,reallylistening。TheireyeswereonAl,andtheywereabsorbinghiswordslikesonges。Myheartwasfull。Alcontinuedon,tellingofnightmaresatnight,ofneverknowingamansoimortanttohim,yetsounreal。Icouldhearhisvoicegrowingshakyashereadsuchassionateandhonestwords,andIsawatearrolldownoneofhisdimledcheeks。Ilookedtotheaudience。ThereweretearsonJessica’sfaceandonthefacesofafewothersseatedquietly,intentlylistening。Theyarelettinghimdothis,Ithought。Theyareallowinghimtosharesomethingheerhashasneversharedbefore,andtheyaren’tjudginghimorteasinghim。Ifeltaluminmyownthroat。Alfinished,strugglingnowtoreadhislastsentence。“IfIhadonewish,itwouldbetomeetmydad,soIwouldn’t。。。”Histearswererollingnow,andsowereours,“。。。soIwouldn’thavetoclosemyeyesinbedeverynightjustwonderingwhathelookslike。”Withoutanycuefromme,theclassstooduandalauded。Alsmiledfromeartoearastheyallrushedhimwithhugs。Iwasfloored。ThisiswhyIteach。IteachbecauseIamallowedtolearnthestoriesbehindthefaces。IteachbecauseIcanwatchkidsgrowandlaughandlearnandlove。IteachbecauseofstudentslikeAl。