#unexpected failure
I’ve all but given up on my blog. I have let my workload this year become a soul-sucking monster. I have willingly been feeding it day and night in hopes that one day I it will feel satiated. I’m learning that it never will. I never will. There is always work to do. Always.
It feels like the emotions that I felt back in February were from another lifetime. That experience feels distant. I had plans. We had plans. I was going to change that little girl’s world and save the day. Mills would have it’s first public library/book exchange. My student would soon feel like she had a special place in Mills. She would quickly gain confidence in herself and in her ability to make and keep friends. Her love for books would spread and everyone would be reading and sharing books throughout the community. Cue the sad trombone.
None of that happened. Life happened instead. We began to look for community support, but soon we lost contact with the individuals who had made promises. Local businesses and organization soon became too busy to collect a few books for this cause. My student was quick to create signs and posters to put up all over school, but they now sit, rolled up and half complete, collecting dust on my back shelf. She hasn’t mentioned the book exchange or the posters for over two months. But neither have I.
Sadly, nothing has come of this. Nothing. Her life hasn’t changed for the better. In fact, since this all happened, things at home have gotten worse. An individual has since been removed from the home by law enforcement and various government organizations are investigating a number of situations.
I wish I had an excuse. I wish I could blame my lack of follow through on some other life-halting crisis, but I can’t. I failed. Plain and simple. This has been weighing on my heart and mind for several weeks. I put off writing and reflecting for working and resenting. I allowed myself to work right through an opportunity to do more.
Fortunately my heart has grown because of all of this. I continue to advocate for our students at Mills. I advocate for more love and less condescension; for more patience and less pride.
I have plans still. My student will be in sixth grade next year. I still have time. I hope. There are other projects, similar to the one I failed to execute, that are looking for books. We’ll start there.
First, *hugs*.
Next, I don’t see this is as a failure, Jeremy. Very rarely do projects like this come together easily and quickly. Many times, the first “iteration” is an opportunity to see what works and what doesn’t. You have seen what pieces haven’t worked so well, so now you know where effort must be more concentrated. Persistence and perseverance – and asking for more help (especially from your network) will be the keys here. You took on a pretty big project, and it was overwhelming. That is OK.
As for that little girl… her life may not be (yet) what you hope for her. However, you HAVE made a difference. One of the suckiest (for lack of a better term) things about teaching is that we rarely see the impact or the influence we have on our students’ lives immediately. I know that you know that. There will be a time when she will remember all you have done for her… and more importantly, that you CARED about her. Even if she is unable to take the path you hope she takes, she will always remember you and what you did for her.
I’m glad that you still have hope and will move forward with other plans. Don’t beat yourself up on this one.
Thank you Michelle.
I don’t see this as beating myself up. It may have sounded like I was coming down on myself, but that wasn’t what I was thinking. I had big aspirations that failed to materialize. While that sucks (for a lack of a better term), there was so much going on that I quickly became distracted–not to mention her life was once again in turmoil.
I’m tired, Michelle. Sadly, this was just another casualty of me trying to do too much. I really wish I would have stopped everything else and focused on this more and given it more of my time. But I didn’t, and I can’t go back. I hope I can do something next year. I really do.
Jeremy,
I was one of the folks you spoke to at ITSC12. Your story, as it existed in February, was heart-breakingly beautiful. I shared it with friends and family, and people were incredibly impressed by your actions. Best part? It still is an incredible story, and worth a read. And not in a negative way, but in a ‘life happens’ kind of way. In fake life, you and this young lady solved all the problems in her life, found a ton of books, and she is now thriving as a student and as a person and has created a vast network of places to distribute donated books. The honesty of this post, though, is what I really appreciate – real life happened for you and for this young lady. Nothing was resolved easily. You wish you could have done more. However, regardless of what happens next year, this young lady will look back, some day, and remember that time a teacher believed in her, that time an adult believed that instead of guilt he would presume innocence. That he – you – would believe in her. And that is an immeasurable gift to be able to bestow on a young person.
Say what you will about the sunny optimism of the preceding paragraph, but it is because of the hope of being able to create positive change in the lives of the young people that we teach. This goal creates all the hard work we set ourselves up for. Thank you for sharing the next part of this story – it took incredible courage on your behalf. All the best to you and this young lady as you both continue to make this right.