I have seen my share of pain.
I have cried my share of tears.
I have to say that there is no grief quite like that of a child.
Creekview High School has lost three of its own in as many weeks. While I didn’t know any of the students personally, I’ve watched those who did, grieve and struggle to hold up under the weight of shock, disbelief and heartache. Carlos’ death, in particular, has been one that I can’t seem to reconcile. Perhaps it’s because he was so young. Perhaps it was because it was so tragic. Perhaps it is because I have watched his closest friends wrestle with guilt and loss. And I realize there is not one single thing I can do or say or will to assuage their pain. They weep. They mourn. They ask ‘why’ and there is no answer that satisfies. That will EVER satisfy. Suicide not only takes a life, it takes with it the relationships and the opportunities to right wrongs and redeem mistakes and answer questions.
I have physically ached this week as I’ve watched these young people grapple with the self-murder of their friend. I’ve felt the heaviness of their hearts. The dampness of their tears. The heat of their anger. And the depth of their despair. They are young and should be embracing the fullness of life, not the emptiness of death.
As a public school teacher, I am limited in what I can say. But were I a mere citizen, I would tell them they are uniquely created and therefore uniquely loved by their Creator. I would tell them that life is a precious gift, and just as we cannot grant life to ourselves, neither should we take it. I would speak from experience that heartbreak can serve to shape our lives and our contributions to this broken world. We can spend our lives shackled by circumstance or emancipated through choice. It is only with hope rooted in the Divine that we can rise each day and face what the world will throw our way. Today is temporary, but tomorrow is an eternity.
For those who have never taught, know that ‘teaching’ is not a job. It is a calling. It is a ministry. It is a pouring into the youth of our day. Into each class walks 30 hearts. 30 stories. 30 burdens. 30 futures. Teaching is a responsibility. It is about more than content, it is about character. As a teacher, I must constantly remember that I have 50 minutes a day to teacher English. I also have only 50 minutes to demonstrate kindness, compassion, courage, patience, encouragement, discipline, passion for learning, leadership, forgiveness, confidence, understanding and love. 50 minutes.
When death comes – and it will – there are no observers. We participate in its ritual, even if it is simply as a witness to its ways. We are forced to make a choice as to whether we will engage the living or side with the mute & unfeeling deceased.
Creekview will be fine. Forever changed, but fine. The students who were once with us but are now gone have given us something to remember. They have shaped us, each in a different way. They’ve given us something to think about. What I am left to consider is that just as I can not be a casual observer in their deaths, neither can I be an observer in the lives of my students. Relationships matter.