On Friday I had one of those teacher moments. I was at the gas station and this guy in a lowrider was staring at me. I wanted to do my ‘sup’ head-nod, but the Reliant (without the stationwagon back) doesn’t have the get-up-and-go that it used to. As I was finishing up pumping gas, the car pulled in front of mine and the guy was staring at me. He said my name and then said his and I realized it was a student that I had taught as an 8th grader 5 years ago. He said he was going off to work. Doing some quick math (better than my comment counting on YouTube), I figured out that he either A)Graduated early or B)Dropped out. (And, unless he made some serious habit changes, option B was more realistic.)
I drove to work thinking about statistics. (90 students each year for 5 years = 450 commitments/responsibilities) It scares me to think of 1. Then I started thinking about how many students I’ve had that have lost parents while I was their teacher. My principal and I had a “reflecting-old guy” conversation Friday afternoon as we were on bus duty. He had just finished my evaluation/observation (20 minutes left of the school day, 8th hour on a Friday. Nice. The students were great, though.) and he was talking to me about how he was spoiled. He couldn’t see himself working in a school that had troubled students. I got to thinking (while talking to him) about how the kid from the lowrider lost his mom to cancer my first year teaching at the junior high. If I remember right, his biological dad had left him and his step-dad had just finished the paperwork to adopt him.
My second year a student from Cambodia (whose dad had fought in the revolution. We do a generation interview each year and they had a very poignant conversation while the dad shaved. Things like, “Son, I haven’t thought about this for years.” and “Boy, they call them killing fields for a reason. I saw things that you don’t need to know about.”) lost his mother to cancer. My 4th hour was the only group of people to give the kid sympathy/empathy cards. Try explaining death to a bunch of 13/14 year-olds in a public school.
If anyone tells you statistics about how the dad can be removed from the family and everything will be okay (some of the articles that we analyzed in my teacher education program in college), tell them about the kids who answered yesterday’s writer’s notebook question very truthfully. I was even going to skip the question for a different one, but I thought, “Meh.”

If your house caught fire and your pets and loved ones would get out safely, what one item would you rescue from the flames?

Some students routinely answer “PS3″ (or whatever the hot, current system is that is out). Some answer “Plasma TV” (to then be mocked by the class with a “What, strap it on your back?”).

A boy answered, “A toolbox from my dad. It’s the only thing I have left of him.” (I don’t think his dad is dead.)
A girl answered, “A photo of my mom. We have surprisingly few photos of her.” (I’ve met her hard-working dad. The mom passed away a while ago.)

I applied to teach at the community college level. I think that there are some good things that could happen. But, if I don’t get the job, I know that, no matter what, teaching at the junior high has been worth it. [Now's the part of the movie when Robin Williams thrusts his fist in the air in a freeze frame. Roll credits.]
[Oh, wait. I still have to go back to work on Monday.]