I also had the "proverbial slap in the face" where I realized I needed to do something for ME. I thought I'd share my experience which, I'm sure, will be able to relate.
I've been a high school teacher for 13 years. It's crazy, I've never done anything for 13 years straight except live. The closest thing I can think of that I have retained for 13 years is my mobile phone contract with Verizon. But if there is one thing I do, and I do well it's teach. I'm not tooting my own horn either. I have put my life into my career, and worked hard to be where I am today. And I'm good at what I do...or I wouldn't have lasted this long.
I started teaching young so 13 years later, a good number of my former students I can now call "friends." One of my closest friends started out as a 16 year old junior in my Spanish III class my second year teaching, when I was a mere 22 years old.
I've had thousands of students and they have all made me the teacher I am today, mostly for the better. Within this time I have experienced the great successes of my students, and also mourned the loss of some awesome kids, parents, co-workers etc.
During my last 2 years of teaching (which just ended last spring) I became familiar with a student in my study hall. Hannah had great energy, a positive attitude and she was just the "pick me up" I needed mid day when all I wanted to do is either cry, or punt a student down the hallway. She would sit right next to my desk and talk to me about bands, and concerts. As time went on, the conversation turned to boys and the regular teenage angst. Hannah reminded me a lot of myself and I began to look forward to study hall, even more so when she would pass me in the hall in the morning and say, "ohhh Ms. Neal, you wait until PAWS (study hall) have I got a story for you!" Toward the end of Hannah's freshman year she informed me that she signed up for Spanish for her sophomore year because she still wanted to see me every day. Granted, not a great reason for taking the class, but I was happy about it.
As a sophomore in a freshman class, Hannah came into my class like a flash of lightening. She had a year of French under her belt which made learning Spanish that much easier for her. She was vibrant in class, a great participator and she offered her help to others who were struggling. Sometimes Hannah would have lunch with me in my classroom, but usually she would drop off her books, give me the "scoop" about what was going on and then go have lunch with her friends.
Like I mentioned above, I've had students that have just "connected" with me, and because of that, we developed a pretty neat student/teacher relationship and sometimes, after they had graduated and started their lives...they became my friends. With the advancements in technology and computers being used more and more as a primary tool in the classroom, teachers and students alike miss out on having those interactions with each other and between the teacher and the student. Those kids who go out of their way to tell me about themselves, let me see the other side of them outside the classroom are the kids that I enjoy the most and retain some kind of communication with, when they leave high school, move etc. Hannah was one of those students.
In the fall, Hannah started coming in to my classroom mentioning her sciatica was acting up and it hurt to walk. This went on for about a week until I convinced her to go to guidance for permission to use the elevator, which she did.
Before I realized it, I was being called into the office, along with a hand full of other teachers. It was October and I'll never forget, the guidance counselor broke down into tears and said " Hannah has cancer." She had a tumor on her side and that's where the pain was coming from. I was in shock.
Hannah was diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma, a bone cancer that mainly affects children. It was a tough pill to swallow. The students got wind of it and were absolutely devastated. No child should have to come face to face with their own mortality. I found myself being what I call "that person" for the students. I dispelled rumors (I was familiar with her mother and in time we became friends), did my research on the disease and educated the kids on it, I advised students who did fundraisers to help out. I kept in touch with Hannah. Throughout the entire school year we communicated by e mail, text, facebook etc. She never ever lost that positive spirit. When she lost all her hair from Chemo she said to me "My mom would never let me dye my hair blue...but now I can just wear a blue wig!" She lost a lot of weight and would joke about becoming a supermodel and walking the runway. I was in awe of her upbeat attitude and her "I can beat this" mindset.
We had our scares during the school year. Prom weekend, we almost lost her. She begged to not have any students know about her condition because she didn't want to take the focus off prom that night. Again...simply amazing. She rebounded and that same weekend, she took off for Hawaii for a family vacation through Make a Wish. I was so excited to read FB posts, see pictures of her swimming with dolphins, laughing and enjoying life. It seemed like she was getting better!
Shortly after her vacation, things took a change for Hannah. We were all sure she'd bounce back, I mean she had done it several times during the school year. On the 29th of May I was called by a parent close to Hannah's mom and told that Hannah was in hospice and it "wouldn't be long". I had this internal struggle, "Should I go see her, let her know I love her and that I think she is SO brave and such an inspiration, Or should I just let her be with her family." I went and saw Hannah that night. She was so tiny and fragile. She had a machine to help her breath. I mentally prepared myself NOT to cry, then went in. She was happy to see me, told me about her trip to Hawaii. It was so hard to keep myself composed. I gave her a hug, told her I loved her and told her to send me a text. She asked me to come back Friday and bring her a school lunch (" The food here is shit" she told me). I promised, and then went home.
Hannah died the next day. I received the call at 1:20 on May 31st. It was so hard to keep it together until another teacher came to relieve me so I could have a moment. The kids were hysterical. They didn't understand, and quite frankly I couldn't seem to understand it either.
The next few days were crazy. Crying about the loss of a great person, laughing about the memories of her. My role as "that person" for my students was more necessary than ever. Students stopped by my house (school was out), clung to me at the funeral and calling hours. They were looking to me as a source of strength when, inside, I was absolutely broken. It took all my mental strength to be strong for those kids.
When things like the death of a child happen I feel like it makes a lot of people feel uncomfortable...those people on the "outside." I realized that with Hannah's death. I had recently stopped seeing someone who was well aware of the situation and how it affected me. I never heard anything from him throughout the entire week of her death, funeral etc. Makes you wake up and realize the quality of people around. At the same time, I was touched to see people who never met Hannah reaching out to her mother and family. I met someone at the candlelight vigil the night Hannah passed who came up to hug me and said he'd never met Hannah, but he knew her story and she inspired him. He said "I can honestly say I wouldn't be alive today, if I hadn't know of her and how she tackled life."
In the aftermath of everything, I still felt broken and angry. It wasn't fair. She was such a great kid. It made me question every aspect of my life. I questioned my faith in God. I mean, how could God let this happen? Did all those prayers fall on deaf ears? I had planned my "professional development vacation" to Madrid before Hannah got sick and it was a constant topic of conversation between us when we spoke. She was excited for me to go to "my happy place"and told me one day she'd make it to Spain,
During my time there, Hannah's 16th birthday came and went. It was a tough day. Every day is a tough day. I miss her terribly. I can't even imagine how her mother feels seeing all her friends have their teen rites of passage like getting their drivers license, going to prom, 1st day of school.
Some people might think that Hannah's death inspired my big life change but that isn't it. It was Hannah's LIFE that inspired me. She lived life!! When I think of Hannah and her mission to live life to the fullest, I am reminded of my most favorite quote by Henry David Thoreau:
..I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.”
Hannah wasn't my first student to die, but she was the first I witnessed suffer and it tore my heart out. But still Hannah inspired me, and was a constant reminder (and still is) that you only have one life, so live deep! So with that in mind, here I am, getting ready to embark on a crazy life change, because I want to "live deliberately..and "suck the marrow out of life." Hannah will always be with me in spirit. She changed my life..she changed me and I am so thankful.
Thank you, Amy. She was an incredible girl, and she will always have a place in our hearts, and our mission. Hoping as our son beats cancer, and grows up that he gets to have his own "Miss Neal" for a teacher.
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