Tears on a Harley

For you to understand the title I have to jump back a few years and explain how I came to be sitting on my Harley, trying to start it, with tears rolling down my face. (For my biker buddies --- the bike is fine.)


About the time I hit fifteen years in the service I started to wonder what I would do when I grew up. I knew it had to be something with a socially positive purpose and since I was married to a school teacher my mind gravitated to that career as I filtered through the many options. Over the next few years the idea solidified and I set my mind on becoming an elementary school teacher. It was a purely logical decision; well thought out and planned.


I went on terminal leave in December of 2008 and started college full time in January of 2009. My plan was on track and I was working towards my BS in Interdisciplinary Studies with a EC-6 certification. (A fancy way to say elementary school teacher college). But on 16 October 2009 things forever changed for me...I met a little girl named Lilly.
The following text in italics is a quote from my journal that I wrote in my car immediately after leaving the school that day.


16 OCT - Epiphany Moment. I got mad, sad and highly motivated all at the same time. This all thank you, because of a little girl (7 yo) named Lilly. She is struggling with the most basic of words (is, on, of etc). I was helping her with a reading comprehension worksheet and I asked her if she liked to read; she said no. She said she does like stories though. I asked if she didn’t like to read because it was hard? She replied yes. I asked if anyone reads to her at home? “Mom’s to busy and dad is always on the computer.” No wonder she can’t read!!! The pivotal place where she could get one on one time is devoid of help. I sat in my car and cried today. Lilly has become the fire that now stokes my motivation. It is my goal to save all the “Lillys” that I can.


From that moment on I left my logical plan behind and gave myself over to an emotional plan. A plan fueled by my anger, my sadness, my pain, and my desire to place myself directly in the path of the destructive trains that are some of these children’s lives. To stand on the tracks of their lives and run head long into those trains in the hope of derailing it and giving them a chance to learn.


So we whisk back to today...the last day I spent with the class I worked with this semester.


I have spent 14 weeks with these children, and while it was usually just one day a week they were powerful days for me. It was the first time I was allowed to fully interact with the students, to plan and teach lesson. Oh yeah...and fall flat on my face. I got to know these students, to understand some of their needs, to learn how they react to different stimulus and to understand how to help them. They in turn taught me about myself. I learned how I react to these new situations, and some of the most powerful lessons of how NOT to do a few things. These kids got under my skin and found their way into my heart but the semester is coming to a close. With the closing of the semester that means my time with this class is at an end and today was my last day with them.


I spent the last part of the school day helping the students practice for an upcoming math benchmark test. Taking a last chance to help them make those word problem connections before I have to walk away. As the time for dismissal approaches, the class lines up with their backpacks just like everyday, which was when I figured the time was right to let them know that this was my last day with them.


I think a little guy (Xavier) in the class had already sensed that something was up today since he had hugged me when I walked into the room and about three more times since then. Xavier has been one of my special ones, one that I don’t think gets enough attention at home. He was one of those kids that makes you glad to show up each day. Everyday he has a smile for you in the morning. Every morning he greets you with a very sincere “Good Morning”. Every morning he is genuinely happy to be at school and in “my” classroom. No matter how crappy my night was or how little I slept I couldn’t help but smile when I saw him in the morning.


I said my goodbyes and was hugged by many of them as they filed from the room as the final bell of the day rang. It was all I could do not to break down in tears as I said goodbye. I told them I had asked to come back to their school next semester and promised to stop by and see them if I did.



The kids where gone, my backpack loaded, hands shook and goodbyes to the faculty said. I walked out the teacher’s entrance to the school and geared up for my motorcycle ride home.


I felt like crap.


I felt like I was deserting them.


I know logically that I’m not. I did what I was suppose to, it was just part of my class, but they were becoming my kids and I felt like I just let them down.


I sat on my bike with my helmet and dark sunglasses unable to bring myself to start it, tears rolling down my face.


It was a couple of hours later, at home, that I started to see through the pain and redirect it. My pain and all those little hugs today are now added to the motivational fire that was set by a little girl named Lilly. All the anger and joy just makes me want it more, drives me harder to be the best teacher I can. I am going to be a teacher and I AM going to save the Lillys and I AM going be there to say good morning to all the Xaviers.