A Classroom of Individuals

The year my mother was diagnosed with cancer was a very difficult year for me. She was diagnosed with an advanced stage of colon cancer in April and given six months to live. The cancer had already metastasized to other parts of her body by the time it was discovered, so treatment was not an option. There was only one month left of the school year remaining, and I looked forward to my vacation time with her in Minnesota.

By the start of the new school year in September, her condition was much worse. I had thoughts of not returning back to work, but she persuaded me to return to the classroom. She always had a way of making one feel as if everything was fine, and one would feel guilty if they chose not to listen to her.

God himself must have handpicked my students that year. It was as if the students had an unspoken understanding of my situation. Their smiling faces and bubbly personalities took my mind off of my personal pain during the work day. Every night I would make a call to my mother in Minnesota to find out her current condition, and every night I would hang up the phone and cry. I found myself looking forward to work in the morning, so I could focus on anything other than the truth about my mother.

When I returned to school after the funeral, I was greeted with a desk stacked high with cards, letters, flowers, and plants. Each student took a turn hugging me and giving me their condolences. They had moved me to tears, but I felt no shame crying in their presence.

Those children will never know how grateful I am to them. They were my strength when I felt as if I could not go on, and they were the wings lifting my spirit on a daily basis. I truly believe that some of life’s greatest lessons are taught by the student and not the teacher.