So you still want to be a teacher?

I'd been feeling pretty good today. My final evaluation with Mrs. Flowe and Marci went very well. Our lessons went well. I know what I'm going to do when Mary comes to observe me. On the way out the door today after the faculty meeting, Wallace, another English teacher, asked me, "So you still want to be a teacher?"

I responded with a smile, and "I think so."

Then, in the car on the way home, I told Katie, "I definitely told him the wrong thing. I should have said "Hell yes, I still want to be a teacher." And this is why I know...

At the end of fifth period, Maryanne quietly came up to me and said, "Ms. Owen, can I talk to you after school?" I replied, "Of course, let me give Greg his papers." Once I came back to her, she said, "Ms. Owen, you know what you wrote me on my papers, that you understand? I really need to talk to someone who does understand."

As she started to cry and before she said anything else, thoughts started flooding into my head from four years ago. An intelligent young woman trying to finish high school while trying to deal with the fact that her father is terminally ill from cancer. To differentiate my story from Maryanne's, my relationship with my Daddy was much better than hers with an absent for the last seven year's father who has been abusive toward his family.

I sat down and as her tears gained in intensity, I gave her a hug. What do you say in a time like this, when words aren't good enough?

When Marci realized what was happening, she came over as well. As I listened to Maryanne, I realized that I had changed roles -- now I'm the one trying to comfort and give support where there really is no advice other than Mama's "keep on keepin' on."

We listened and sympathized. "It does suck. It's not fair that you should be dealing with this." This being handling a terminally ill father when your sister is angry and won't come, when your mom discourages you from going, when you can't tell your friends because they don't understand, when you can't tell your mom because you afraid of making her more angry, when you can't go to church because you feel like God's given you too much to handle, when you feel like no one understands at all.

Our final advice was to talk to her minister. He can help you and give advice in ways better than us.

I finally got her to laugh a little bit in between her tears. When she left, and I was able to get home, mine started.

Oh Lord, give Maryanne strength for her struggles and help her realize that this time in her life is one of the footprints times when there is only one set because now You are carrying her.

So, yes, Wallace, I still want to be a teacher because today I've made a difference for Maryanne. My nights of responding for journals and sometimes (more than often) asking myself why I do this when I keep finding Alex's in the trashcan or left in a desk. Maybe the question should be returned to Wallace, "Do you still want to be a teacher?"