Lonely

I received an e-mail this week from the father of a former student. His daughter, Elaine, was in my third grade class just a few years ago. Elaine was a small girl - with an even smaller voice - who had the ability to look up at you, wrinkle her tiny freckled nose,and offer up a genuine smile that could fill your heart with enough warmth to last an entire day. She was as kind and gentle and thoughtful as any person - big or small- I've ever known.

About half way through the school year Elaine told me that she was going to be moving to Ohio. Although she had no idea when exactly this move was going to take place she was certain that it was coming before the end of the school year. She said it would most likely be right around our Spring break in late March.

The thought of Elaine leaving was very difficult for me. While each of my classes tend to be pretty close, this particular group was extremely so. We considered ourselves a family - a fact that was oft-repeated by many of us to those outside our classroom walls. I remember thinking ahead to what her last day might be like - saying goodbye to such an important part of our daily lives - only to find my nose begin to burn and my eyes start to water. I found it was easier to avoid thinking about it at all. Somewhere inside I hoped something would change and that she would stay.

That hope was dashed a few weeks later when Elaine came in and declared, during Class Meeting, that she would be leaving two weeks before Spring Break. Quickly I began doing the math in my head and calculated that she had only about six or seven weeks left with us. As she finished talking about her move she lifted her head to look out at everyone and we could see that her eyes were red and that small tears were slowly falling down her cheeks. The room became silent and we all looked around unsure of what to say. I wanted so badly to say something reassuring or meaningful but I feared I wouldn't be able to get the words out without crying myself.

The weeks passed and no more was spoken of Elaine's move. Probably many of the kids - as kids are so good at doing - had put it behind them and had given it no more thought. But, for some of us, we were making a conscious effort not to think about it. Eventually, though, the time came. Soon, Elaine's final day was less than a week away. Unable to put it off, I had to figure out how we were going send her off. I knew it had to be something special and heartfelt. Something she could take with her and never forget. Something that would let her feel how much we loved her and would miss her.

After days of wracking my brain I finally decided to take a favorite book of ours, Patricia Mac Lachlan's All the Places to Love, and have each of the kids sign it. Inside, I wrote a letter to Elaine explaining how I felt that our classroom was a place to love as well and how important her role had been in helping this to happen. During her final minutes in our classroom we all sat in a circle and passed the book around. As each child received the book they made a wish for her. One that she could take with her to her new home and to her new school.

I sat and listened to all the kids sharing their kind thoughts and warm wishes and I began to worry about what I would say. I had been thinking it over for days but, as tends to be the case for me so many times, hadn't come up with the words that would convey how I felt. Soon the book was to my immediate right and then passed into my hands. Elaine, by this point, was already crying fairly heavily as her good friend Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She looked up at me, held my gaze, and waited.

I wiped away my own tears and said, "Elaine, my wish for you is that you have a teacher that loves you with all their heart."

And then I broke down.

Elaine began crying even harder and I reached over, put my arm around her, and kissed her on top of her head.

"Ewwww!" Drew called out. "Mr. H, if I ever have to move DO NOT do that to me!"

Suddenly everyone started to laugh and the heavy cloud was lifted. Some of the kids came over to hug Elaine and give her small gifts to remember them by. I walked her down the hall to After Care and said a final goodbye.

"We'll keep in touch," I promised her. "You'll see. You can't get rid of us that easily!"

We did, too. Every few weeks we wrote her letters to tell her all about what was going on in the classroom. Once or twice she wrote back and we passed her cards and letters around for all to read.

Finally the end of the year came. Knowing that I was going to follow this group to fourth grade, saying goodbye in June wasn't too bad. Probably because it wasn't a "goodbye" at all, but a "see you later." We made plans to meet over the summer to read books at the library and to have dinner together before the school year started back up. Everyone happily marched off into summer comforted to know what lie ahead the following Fall.

A few weeks into the summer I was back at school meeting with my new fourth grade teammates. We were hard at work making plans for the coming year when the phone rang. I answered it and was told that I needed to come down to the office. Elaine's grandmother had called and wanted me to call her back. Something had happened.

My heart sank. I was suddenly filled with fear. I rushed down to the office so that I could borrow some privacy in an unoccupied office. I dialed.

"Hello," a voice answered.

"Hi. This is Chris Hass. From Bookman Elementary."

"Oh, hi Mr. Hass," the voice said. "Thank you for calling back."

"No problem," I said. I wasn't sure what to say. Should I ask if something's wrong or just wait for her to say it?

"Well," she said. "I'm sorry to say that Elaine's mother has died. She committed suicide a few weeks ago."

I felt myself go numb.

"You know she was very sick," she explained. "She had her highs and her lows and had really been struggling lately."

Elaine's mother had suffered from bi-polar disorder.

"How's Elaine doing?" I asked.

"She's doing alright," she answered. "But she's confused. And sad. And angry."

"I can imagine," I said. But, of course, I couldn't.

"It happened just before Elaine's birthday," she explained. "Which made it even worse - if that's possible."

"I am so sorry," I offered. "Thank you so much for letting me know. Let Elaine know I will write her very soon."

"Thank you," she said. "You meant so much to Elaine and she really misses all of you. We thought you should know."

We chatted for a few more minutes but most of the rest of the conversation has vanished from my memory. There's a good chance I lost focus as many thoughts swirled around in my head. Later that evening I wrote a letter to Elaine. For certain, it was the most difficult thing I had ever written. What do you say to a child who has lost a parent?

The following year I received a envelope in the mail from Elaine. She had written me a really sweet card and included her fourth grade school picture. Although a bit bigger, she looked just the same. She explained that she really liked her school and still loved to write. I took the card to school and shared it with everyone.

It had been nearly a year since I last heard from her when her father e-mailed me this past Sunday. He explained that she is doing well in the fifth grade. She talks about us from time to time and credits much of her love of writing to the things we did together in our classroom. I would like to believe that's true but Elaine was the type of kid best served by pointing the right direction and getting out of her way. She was more than capable, and motivated, to find the answers on her own.

Her father explained that she just finished up a poetry study in her classroom. She had to write and publish five different types of poems and then select one to share with her classmates and all their parents during a "Poetry Slam." (What a great teacher!)

Elaine chose to write and share a poem about her mother. It was written in swirling lines of text that flowed gracefully about the page. I cannot do the visual element justice here but I just have to share the text.

Lonely
Why?
Why have you left?
Into the sun
gone with the wind
forever
never seeing you again
except in my memories.
Will I see you
again in the future?
This I can't
be sure of
but hopefully
we will meet again
so that I may
hug you again.
But until then
I'll look back
into the past
at all of
the fun
that we
used to
have
together.
Your love
still
remains within
me.
So maybe,
just maybe,
you
aren't
gone
and you
haven't
left me
all
alone
forever.

I doubt there are many other professions out there that allow you to truly live the way teaching does. Every year there are so many amazing kids with remarkable lives and thoughts and questions and feelings. They become a part of you. They make you a better person. Elaine made me a better person.

For that I am thankful.