Teachers of reddit,what student will you never forget?
I taught math to 5th-8th graders.
Had a student who did very well, always pleasant, helped others, etc.
I began to think about him more when I noticed a pattern in the clothes he wore.
The clothes were nice, basic, and clean - so I really just shrugged it off.
It had just turned into the holiday season that year, about a week or so before Thanksgiving, and one evening I had to run back to the school to pick up my car as I had went out with some fellow instructors.
As I was preparing to leave I noticed activity near the dumpsters and saw him digging through them pulling out food scraps from the cafeteria.
My heart sank about
1000 feet.
I didn't know what to do -- if I were to go up to him, he'd know I knew and I just didn't know how he would react.
I talked with a colleague of mine who knew a social worker.
The family had suffered the loss of his dad about two years ago, and now his mom was battling cancer.
To say they were hanging on by a thread would be an understatement.
But the kid hid this from everyone as far as we knew.
Finally, we knew we had to do something.
So we all waited one evening and sure enough, he returned.
He was scared, ashamed, crying, angry -- every emotion you can think of.
I do not blame
him.
We took him to his home and his mom was emotional too.
We ordered hot food and a colleague went and got it, and we all spent many hours that evening talking and reassuring them we were there to help.
Working with local resources, we got them the help they needed.
Food, medical assistance, even local volunteers to come help with some chores around their house.
The mom got better thankfully, and the bright young man continued to do well in school and got a scholarship for college when he graduated a few years later.
This was 20 years ago -- today, that bright young man works as a mechanical engineer and is still as generous and considerate as ever.
His mother, sadly, passed on around 10 years ago.
All 3 of his "former teachers" from that night went to the funeral.
I am very proud of him.
We still keep in touch, and visit often.
One of my students told me as a child she wanted to grow up to be a strawberry and then cried when she realised she couldn't because she was a human being.
Very sweet girl.
I’ve had many students that are still taking a large place in my heart.
Some are sad, like the girl whose mother started beating her during a parent conference.
I started crying and begged the mother to stop.
The student who had no water or electricity at home but we allowed him to shower at school and we washed his clothes.
The student who watched his grandparents get murdered by his mother and wrote about it in an essay for my class.
The student who had never been in a lake that we took camping.
He was so excited but didn’t know how to swim.
So he just stood
in the water up to his neck and grinned.
Lovely.
The girl with terrible anxiety that I sat with for hours after school to work on school work, not because she wasn’t smart, but because she was so anxious about not being perfect.
The girl who was mauled by a dog, which messed up her face, but she always smiled.
The girl whose father brought her to school every day late who finally broke down and told me her father was raping her every day when the mother left to go to work.
The Vietnamese and Cambodian refugees who flooded my school
after the war.
One wrote an essay about running towards a boat and seeing his grandfather get shot but he had to keep running.
The Brazilian boy who got up in class and got me to start dancing with him while we all laughed joyfully.
The group of students I took outside during their first snowstorm.
The wonder on their faces was priceless.
The student who found me on Facebook after 20 years to tell me I made a difference in her life.
She came to my state and took me to dinner and told me I was there for her when her home life was terrible.
I had no idea.
I’m just kind to everyone.
I have a million more stories.
I have loved every student and being able to teach has been an honor.
Edit: my goodness.
I am moved to tears by the comments, especially the thanks.
Thank you for reminding me how much value my life has held.
I had a kid, 16, total addict.
Alcoholic, meth, pills, heroin.
Really rough childhood.
Started smoking crack with his dad at 13, stepdad committed suicide in front of him at 14, unimaginable beep in between.
He’d come to school high or drunk and we would send him home.
Nice kid, always respectful and just had “a good soul”.
One day he was all sorts of messed up and I pull him out of class.
I told him that I loved him and I was worried and if he kept this up he would more than likely be dead by 30.
He freaked out and ran to the principals office and complained that I
had just told him that I loved him and cared about him.
Principal said “Well, maybe he loves you and cares about you.”
We kicked him out of school after we had to.
He got sober.
He came back to track me down.
He grabbed me and started sobbing.
He said when I said I loved him it was the first time and adult had said that to him and he believed it.
He has stayed sober for years, went to college, and is doing really well as a nurse now.
Big Mike.
I’m a HS science teacher in an affluent suburb.
We get this transfer kid in who is about 6’8”, 350, long thin Hulk Hogan mullet (not bald tho) and big glasses.
Mike hailed from the hollars of Kentucky, thick southern accent, and was the most quotable kid I ever met.
“I hate books Mr. xxxxx they PISS me off.”
“My grandma made me sleep on the porch because she cooked some veggies and I told her dang it woman where’s the meat?
“I ain’t never seen a pencil like this.
Can I keep this and show my dad?” (Talking about a regular mechanical pencil)
“They threw me out of Golden Corrall because I ate 8 of them steaks they had.
I was pissed, next time I’m trying for nine.”
And we were supposed to have a fire drill at like 1:55 or some odd time, at 1:57 he went ahead and pulled it honest to god thinking he would help out whoever forgot.
I had a 7th grader that was the biggest, happiest doofus.
He actually was pretty intelligent, but he was such an open book (and didn't put much effort into school) that he came across as a bit of a fool.
Other teachers treated him like a nuisance, because he definitely *was* a distraction to other kids.
He didn't try to be disruptive; he just was.
But he lit up the room with positive energy and was genuinely happy to enjoy every moment of being alive.
I didn't understand how his prior teachers were annoyed by him because he
genuinely was a ray of sunshine and he made everyone a little happier by being in his presence.
He was always smiling, always entertained by life--and it was contagious.
Kind of like a human golden retriever.
I helped him learn how to set school-related goals for himself and take more of an interest in the things we studied, and he was so proud of earning his first A in my class.
The reason I will never forget him is because I wasn't yet a mother when I taught him, and I decided then that "if I ever have kids, I hope they will be as happy as Oscar is."
I would try
to encourage their sense of wonder and fun, above all else.
I had a junior (~16 years old) in my high school science course last year peel the strip of metal off the side of a ruler and proceed to stick each end of it into an outlet and shock himself.
I saw the sparks out of the corner of my eye and he jumped up and his arm was in some significant pain.
He said he did it because he wanted to see what would happen.
Scientific method in action I guess.
I will never forget that dumbass.
Edited to "shocked" because he didn't actually die.
Thanks for the heads up.
The one who told me, “you really make me think.” We are friends to this day and have the best conversations.
It’s the highest compliment for a teacher.
I was a watersports instructor teaching people kayaking and canoeing a couple years back.
There was a group of refugees, all minors between 11-17 that came to us through a charity that was supporting them gaining asylum in my country (UK).
All of them had crossed the channel on a raft or dinghy literally 2 days before, and for some goddamn reason the charity had decided it was a good time to take them canoeing!
Can't make this beep up.
There was this one kid from South Sudan, 15 years old and an
absolute behemoth.
We're talking 6 foot plus and pushing 14-15 stone in weight.
Covered in scars, some of them ritualistic scarification, missing teeth and generally just looking like he'd been through hell many times.
He was terrified of the water.
I took him in my boat, nice and easy, then once he got comfortable I just stuck a stern rudder in and let him power us through the water.
Him and the other kids loved it!
We had some tears at the beginning, I imagine there was a lot of PTSD involved judging by the state of some of these poor kids.
At the end of the session, this giant monster of a child walked up to me with a huge jagged grin, said in broken english "thank you leader" and gave me a bear hug I'll never forget.
To this day, 4 years later, I still remember that grin.
Edit: **WATER.
SPORTS.
IN THE WATER.
WITH BOATS.
NOT PEEPEE.
I teach at a prison.
The first inmate I had graduate under my teaching cried when he looked at his diploma.
He was the first in his entire family to graduate.
It was quite the accomplishment and I was very moved.
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edit: thanks for all the awards!
ETA: holy crap, thank you!!!
I wrote this at lunch and just got done with virtual school so am checking back in.
WOW!
Thank you so much :) :)
I have MUCH to say about homeschooling and how it is here in Michigan but that's another post.
Yes, it was definitely used to covered up some beep :(
Thanks again you all.
I am screenshotting this so I can look back when I have a crappy day.
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Let's call her Wendy.
I taught school in Detroit Public Schools,
special ed.
I had a small class, self-contained for students with visual impairments.
Wendy came to us in too small shoes, worn out coat, huge hat covering her face.
In its infinite wisdom, the district put us in a magnet school that had never had special ed before.
The first day the principal said to me, and I quote, "You know we don't want you here."
Principal was hard core on dress code, took one look at Wendy, and tried to put her out.
My para and I fought back and the principal, deciding she had bigger fish to fry, backed down.
But that bonded Wendy to us instantly.
A shy, quiet 6th grader who was behind in math, reading, everything and who had low vision that magnifiers and glasses couldn't help.
Since the class was so small, everyone got super intense teaching and Wendy started to blossom.
Even though the most of the other teachers refused to let our kids come to their classes, I did manage to get them into art and music.
We discovered that Wendy was some sort of musical natural--she could play piano by ear, sing on note, even played the flute!
She made friends, started pulling up on her academics.
Then in February, it all ended.
The secretary called me to the office to say that CPS wanted to talk to me.
The lady said that
there was an investigation into Wendy's homelife but her mom pulled up stakes and was on the run.
Wendy disappeared.
At some point, her mom landed back at the house and our truant officer went there (I'm sorry, it's been 13 years and I don't remember the exact details of how we found out).
Mom said, "I'm homeschooling my children" and slammed the door.
That was that.
Wendy was gone.
18ish months later, I'm in another school with some of the same amazing kids.
"Andy" says to me out of the blue, "Hey Ms. TeacherPatti--Wendy's with her dad.
She's coming back tomorrow."
My para and I stopped dead in our tracks.
Then we peppered this poor kid with like 100 questions until he just started laughing and said, "Wait until tomorrow old people!"
(or something--that kid was a riot).
Sure enough, Wendy rolls in with her dad the next day.
Wendy and her five siblings had been locked in a house for the past year and a half with no medical care, improper nutrition, nothing.
Someone got word to a cousin, who got word to the dad, who found them and CPS busted in to save them all.
Wendy was back.
To tell you how incredible this kid was--she jumped right back into school.
We put her in 7th grade instead of 8th to get her caught up.
Within a month, she had friends all over the school, every teacher loved her, she wanted to learn Braille (even though she didn't need it), and worked her ass off.
I had her for her 7th and 8th grade years and what years they were.
Those were the most amazing years of my teaching life, best parapro, best kids, we made so much progress.
On her last day of 8th grade, Wendy clung to me and cried and said she couldn't make it in high school.
I told her that of course she would and she did.
She came back during her 9th grade year and gave me a letter that I still have.
She didn't talk much about those 18 months ever but she said in the letter that those days were over and she was her own person and thanked me and our para and other teachers.
Three years later, I got a notice from her that she was graduating high school.
I will never forget any of those kids, especially Wendy.
When I think about giving up or that I can't do something, I think of her.
I will never forget you, my dear, sweet, love.
I’m a professor and I had a student who was a big dude, much older than the typical college student like maybe 40, ex-military, and very stoic.
We did a simulation exercise during class where students had to make a decision about whether to race a car or withdraw from the race.
Most students go forward with the race for a variety of reasons, but what they don’t know is that this situation mirrors the decision that NASA made with the challenger launch (which obviously exploded).
After the exercise, the student came up to me and started crying and said it was the most impactful exercise he’s ever done and that when I have hard days I should remember that I made a
difference for him.
I almost started crying myself.
It was a great moment in my career.
Not a teacher but in my 5th grade math class when my teacher called my name on the first day of school, she paused, lowered her glasses and asked, "are you (my uncle's name)'s son?"
I said "no".
And she gave a huge sigh of relief and said "oh thank God."
this was over 20 years after she had my uncle as a student.
I told my dad about that later that day and he laughed and said my uncle was quite a terror in elementary school.
My old philosophy professor told me that, out of all of his thousands of students, i would be the one he'd never forget.
Which was pretty nice to hear.
He then told me it was because i was the one that made him lose faith in humanity, but hey—win some lose some.
I'm waiting for Kevin's teacher to show up
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