I haven’t been able to make all the posts from the time I have been on leave yet, but they will be coming. However, I feel very strongly about making this post as I take this ultimate step in healing, returning to work.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the morning after Mara died, when I was watching that beautiful sunrise, the thought crossed my mind that I may never want to teach again. Because I want to be patient and open through the whole grieving process, I never mentally scold myself for any thoughts I have along the way, no matter how alarming they may be. That morning when everything was so raw and foreign, I thought that maybe I would never be strong enough to teach again. It takes an awful lot of mettle, especially when you love it. It also takes an incredible emotional investment in other people, colleagues and students, and that sometimes results in disappointment and heartbreak. I realized that having such a public job, so focused on people, and so surrounded by people, would mean that many people were touched by our loss and that going back to school would mean facing a crushing flood of memories. I considered that it could possibly be time to transition to something less public and and less stressful. Something that actually started at 9 and truly ended at 5, where I could show up, do a simple job, and go home. While I was laying in that bed watching that sunrise and having those thoughts, the core of me that was buried far below layers of shock shouted something about how the Earth must have tilted on its axis for me to think such things and that it was contrary to everything I have wanted and planned for…but so was Mara’s death. I decided to wait it out and see how I felt. I was afraid, I know that. I was afraid of not knowing myself, and not being able to go back to the way life was. Of course we can’t go back, and that is a large part of what we grieve. We can’t let it go, we can’t set the burden down. We have to simply move forward with it.
I have come to realize that there are many hard things about going back to work. The very fact that I can be at work is a constant reminder that I’m not at home with Mara. It will hurt, and help, to face all the students who I knew before this happened and who were there with me sharing the journey of my pregnancy. I went in for the teacher workdays as I had planned to do anyway, and it hurt to see colleagues avoid eye contact because they don’t know what to say. It hurts to imagine that when people look at me they think, “oh how sad, she’s never been quite the same since her daughter died.” Well, I’m not the same. I feel quieter, slower somehow. What if the things that are different about me cause my relationships to change? I’m sensitive and raw…and conflicts come up constantly in teaching. What if I burst into tears when a student speaks to me in a disrespectful way? What if I just can’t hang anymore? What if I have no spark and the parts of my personality that used to allow me to connect with my students have been damaged, and that ability is gone?
And worst of all, going back to school means that life is going on…without Mara. Facing the memories that school holds of pregnancy and planning for her arrival in our family is painful, but taking another step away from her is the hardest thing I have ever had to make myself do. In many ways it is far easier to stay here at home and let myself think about her all day, look at her things whenever I want to, and cry whenever the tears come. Moving forward without her hurts so much and is so hard, which is how I know it is exactly what I need to do.
The video below, along with a booklet of all the signs the students are holding up in the video, was given to Chris by his leadership students when he went back to work on January 3rd. We looked through it all together, along with countless other cards, notes and emails that we received from our colleagues and students at Edison expressing their sorrow for our loss and their willingness to reach out and help us bear our burden of pain. Although I know some of these students casually because they are in Chris' class, I have only had a few of them in class myself. As leadership students, they are committed to bettering themselves and our school with their creativity and service, and as you will see, they are nothing less than inspiring. I just love them for it.
Watch this. Period. And turn up your sound.
Watch it if you are mourning Mara's death.
Watch it if you are thinking teenagers are a blight on humanity.
Watch it if you know these kids because you teach them too.
Watch it if you just need to feel a little love.
This is why we can take a step forward and go back to school. This is what I think of in the dark of night when I am alone and lost. This is why we teach, and this is how I knew that going back to work was the right thing for me to do. If our daughter saw this, she would be proud of her parents, proud that we make a difference in people's lives, and that we are part of a community of love and support that we both contribute to and benefit from. Going back to work is about being the best version of myself that I can be. It's part of who I am. THAT is how I honor Mara and serve as a role model for Aaron. I have had my time for crying and screaming and silence and solitude. While the deep feelings of grief and the pain of this loss will always be with us, I know I can still have a happy life, and that teaching is part of it.
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