Friday 23 May 2008

Open letter to the pupil who ran out of my class.

I’m sorry – but not for what you thought I should be apologising for.

Yes, I was ignoring your constant attention seeking – but not out of malice or even indifference. The fact that I don’t constantly acknowledge you is not a sign that I don’t care. I do know what has happened to you, I do know that you have lost everything. I feel pain when I imagine what you must be going through. Thoughts run through my mind and questions pass unanswered in a constant flow through my consciousness.

Don’t think I’m heartless when I change the subject and stop you talking about what you want to talk about. I know you need to let your feelings out and express your loss – possessions, family, sense of security. I know you need to talk about those you loved and who loved you. I know that your distractions, irritating behaviour, belligerence, and defiance are your way of making some form of much needed human contact. Forgive me when I respond occasionally rather than constantly. Don’t assume this means I only care occasionally rather than constantly.

If I could find a way to solve all your problems I would. If I could find a way to ease even part of your burden I would. All I can do is be there for you and try to give some semblance of normal life in an otherwise abnormal existence.

Look at the thirty young people around you. I know you must feel none of them have the slightest idea what you’re going through – and you may be right. But don’t misjudge them. When they try to stop you being disruptive or express frustration at your outbursts it is not because they don’t care – each and every one of them is full of concern for you.

Like you, each one of them is extremely valuable. They need my help as well. But I am not putting their needs ahead of your’s – I am putting them along with your’s. True it seem I am quicker to help them out, but that is because I am able to fix their vocabulary problems quicker than your life challenges. I wish with all my heart I could mend your spirit by telling you how to spell ‘establishment’ but we both know I am helpless in that regard.

So when you ran out of the room and I waited a few seconds before following you – when you looked up in tears and saw my eyes were dry – it wasn’t because I felt nothing. It was because my tears won’t give you what you need. No tears can do that. And that is why I am sorry. But more than that I’m sorry that I can’t say these things to you in person – that I can express them to complete strangers but not to the person who needs to hear it the most.

1 comment:

Mike and Alex said...

Sam, this is a beautiful piece of writing... Quite stunning and, I know because I know you, completely heartfelt... Nice one... M