Dear Teresa,
I didn’t really know what to do, and so, as all too often happens in such situations, I did nothing. You opened your car door this morning, and I heard an immediate flood of profanity-laden (there was no “profanity-laced” about it — nothing so delicate) screaming from the female driver, presumably your mother. The f-word tumbled out of the car a few times, and the aggression in the woman’s voice was simply amazing. I was about to walk over to the car when the driver must have seen me looking that direction in her rear view mirror, for she suddenly screamed, “Close my God-damned door!” “Thump” went the door, but the screaming was only muffled, not silenced. Finally, the door opened again, you pulled yourself out of the car, and the driver roared off.
I stood there watching you as you knelt down behind a garbage can ostensibly to tie your shoe but clearly an effort to calm yourself. I thought I could see your fingers shaking a little. And I thought of how awful it must be to begin your day like that. And I thought of what might happen if you take all that fear and anger into the school, that you might snap at the nearest teacher and wind up in trouble yourself. No, the abuse you received certainly wouldn’t excuse any such response to an authority figure, but knowing what happened just minutes before would certainly put it in a different perspective for the teacher.
I wonder how many of your days begin like that. I wonder how often you get out of the car hearing someone say, “I love you” instead of “F- you.” I wonder how I would fare if I began each day like that. I try to keep these things in mind when students fly off the handle at me for no apparent reason in the morning. It happens occasionally, but thankfully not often.
When you walked by me this morning, I offered some half-hearted words of sympathy: “Are you alright?” You nodded. “You sure?” More nodding, head down. I wish I’d ask you your name. I wish I’d have followed up with your guidance counselor. I wish I had another chance to make some positive impact on your life.
I’ll keep an eye out for you tomorrow, though, and be sure to give you a smile and introduce myself.
Concerned,
Your Future Teacher (Possibly)