Monday, August 26, 2013

The Stork's A'Comin



     I was fortunate enough during my first year at to have a really great report with my students. Because I was so young and inexperienced, I was oblivious to possible dos and don’ts, like letting my seniors order out for lunch or come in late as long as they brought me coffee. I guess I viewed them as pre-college freshman. If I was respectful to them, they would be equally respectful in return. That I will always believe in because it works. That is something that can be done with high schoolers, not middle schoolers.

     I would venture to say that my first year teaching could easily have been the most fun and the largest learning experience. One student even said to the class one day, “I feel like you are our babysitter and we’re all your kids. It doesn’t feel like regular class.” That made me happy because it meant I was connected to these kids. It also made me wonder what the hell I had been doing all year. It was that general laid back vibe that helped me get to know and understand my students. I had to be myself because as much of an actress as I’ve been pegged as, I’m no good at being anyone else.

     I’ve always felt that if something I experienced in my life could help someone else, why not share it with them? It is this openness that could have been one extra piece of support for a student who was in need. I had gotten to know the kids by reading their college essays which were personal and creative. I may have even used my own example that I wrote the year before during my internship, involving various thoughts I’ve had in my life about my deceased father.

     One of the senior students that year was a sweet girl named Deanna. I didn’t think she was so sweet at first though. On the first day of school I handed out the classroom management plan and asked what books they had read over the summer. Deanna, fanning herself with the sheet of paper I just handed out turned to her classmate and said sarcastically, “The only thing I read this summer was the menu at the Yacht Club”. It was a funny response, but that sarcasm can go either way coming from a student. It ended up being okay. She was a good girl with a rough past and at the time, present. As with many people, you never know what life they have by looking at them. She was a beautiful girl with a great figure and dressed like everyone else. I wouldn't have any idea that she had come from as troubled a past as she did.

     One afternoon around December or January, Deanna stayed after class because she needed to talk to me. I figured it was about an assignment. It was an assignment alright-one that was about to last a life time.

     “Miss D,” she paused wringing her hands, “I’m pregnant.” I almost fell over. No one said anything about this in grad school! What the fuck?! Sure, they told us kids could have crushes on us and never to close the door with a student alone in the class and to watch for changed behavior, but they never said kids could get pregnant in high school. A foolish and naive mindset but I was shocked. It was not what I expected her to tell me. Immediately, I wanted her to know she had my support no matter what.

     “Ok. How far along are you? Have you been to the doctor? You need to know that there are options.” The options I was going to propose were adoption or termination. I wanted her to go to college so badly because she wanted to go. It would have been a true testament to living through a hellish life and still making it.

     “I’m keeping it.” Her response was firm.

     “Ok. Have you been to the doctor?” and so our conversation went with my ideas of options out the window.  Come to find out, Deanna was being responsible by being on birth control with her boyfriend. However, she got sick and had to use antibiotics which she had no idea could cancel out the effects of the pill. I’m not sure why her doctor didn’t tell her that or her aunt, who she was living with, but she had no idea and ended up pregnant.

     Deanna lived with her aunt because her mother had passed away and she didn’t really have a relationship with her father. She had lived most of her life with her grandmother, who she adored, until her grandmother passed away also. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy for her, especially since she told me that her aunt and cousin were not supportive. Luckily, the teachers who she told were extremely supportive.

     I’d never really been around a pregnant woman long enough to see the body change. My cousin covered herself up so well no one even knew. Deanna, however, was a teenager and wore the teenager style, close/tight fitting clothing. There would be no hiding her bump because she was not having the baby until July. As I watched her get bigger and more pregnant, I understood how some people say that pregnant women are beautiful. It was incredible to watch Deanna go from being a skinny teenager to a mom. To be honest, I haven’t found any other pregnant woman to be as lovely as Deanna was.

     Her classmates were really great with Deanna and her progress too. The same girl who called me her babysitter would pat Deanna’s stomach, lean down, and listen. Then she would pat it again and wait for a kick. Deanna would stand, proud and not really having much of a choice, watching her classmate pat her belly. One of the boys in Deanna's class, a bit of a clown, had us all laughing one day when he said out of nowhere, "Deanna has a serious beer gut."

     She ended up living at her boyfriend’s house because things with her aunt had become unbearable. Her boyfriend was not a student in the same town she was so we didn’t know who he was. He looked safe and innocent enough. Hell, he looked so young I thought he was in middle school if it hadn’t been for his height. I know that myself and Deanna’s other teachers would often check up on her, make sure she was okay, make sure she was going to the doctor, eating right, and so on. I even brought her my nephew’s old baby stuff that was gender neutral. She and I would talk about the prom and she said she wanted to have her dress made by someone she knew. I knew Deanna would look beautiful no matter what. Unfortunately, she didn’t end up going, but I don’t think she was as upset about it as I was. She was her typical relaxed self, showing no real discontent.

      Deanna ended up having a girl, Skylar Nelly. She came to visit the following year. She looked great. Skylar was beautiful. She fell sound asleep on a table where we were eating lunch. It was so good to see Deanna. She was working and looking into a program for young mothers who wanted to go into nursing at Endicott College. It really felt like a success story because everything ended up going so well for Deanna.
It was a happy moment for me to see her smiling, baby on her hip, headed forward and not looking back.

     Obviously no one could have prepared me for that experience. It certainly rocked me out of the shell I had been living in. I have a bad habit of pre-judging in my head when I see a student act or dress a certain way. I don’t treat them much differently, but I have judged them, regardless of how unfair it is. With Deanna, I knew her before she got pregnant so any pre-judging didn’t exist. It was a valuable lesson that I have learned over and over again that every student, and person, has a story and not to make assumptions. It was also the moment when I stopped seeing teaching as only instruction and presentation. The teacher hat has many different shapes, counselor, coach, parent, friend, with the actual teaching being only a rather small portion of what we do. The true teacher tests have zero to do with number 2 pencils and blank bubbles; they have everything to do with how well situations are handled. Lucky for me, I passed that particular test.


RipTorn

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