First of all, I have cried many times during my first year of teaching. Usually, the tears were from frustration towards myself. I normally reserved them for the car on the way home in response to a particularly bad day. Often, I felt unable to reach my students, which to me was evident in how little most seemed to care or try. Of course it was my fault; after all, a good teacher would motivate her students more. Shamefully, I sometimes entertained the idea that perhaps it was too late to make a difference with these kids, and I thought that maybe I should have went to school to teach elementary or middle school students. High school students are a special breed, and I loved them, but it was so hard.
Although I had shed many tears before, I had never shed them in front of students. It was the day before the last day of the school year. In fact, I had asked for most of the last day off in order to attend an event at my daughter's school, so it was my last full day. Everything was finished for the year, and my fourth period was enjoying a movie, which was a rare occurrence in my class. At one time they complained incessantly about my lack of entertainment. However, they had come to accept that entertainment in my room involved reading, writing, and projects, and I never let them watch a movie for pure entertainment.
In my defense, I was already having quite an emotional couple of weeks. As the end of the year was closing, I felt a scary freedom approaching. Perhaps, I would not come back. This reoccurring thought randomly made pop appearances within my psyche. I deeply cared about my students, but I was not happy with their progress, and I stressed over it constantly. Although "they" seemed content over my test scores, I wasn't. Although "they" felt my failure rate was normal, I didn't. Furthermore, I did not know what more I could possibly do to get through to these kids. I spent endless days after school and on Saturdays for remediation, but students still seemed nonchalant about their grades. It drove me insane, and I felt that I cared more about their grades than them, which was exhausting. This was the end of a ten month long emotional roller coaster that led to me crying on the next to the last day of school when my cell phone was stolen.
I noticed the phone missing the last forty minutes before class was dismissed. We were on a weird schedule for testing, and "they" had forgot to come get my class for lunch. Therefore, I took out my cell phone and called the front office. As I did so, the office connected with my class via the intercom because a parent had checked-out a student. I explained that we had not been to lunch yet and was instructed to take my students to lunch. I laid my phone by my computer, locked my door, and escorted them to lunch. After we got back, I resumed their movie. It was then that I noticed my phone was missing.
At first, I searched and re-searched every area of my desk and book-bag. As I kept combing over these areas again and again, I began to silently panic at the idea that one my kids had taken it. I remember checking to see how much of the movie they had left because they were really enjoying it, and I hated to interrupt them. Finally, with only twenty-five minutes left til the end of day bell, I stopped it. I told them that I had a problem because my phone was missing, and I asked if anyone had seen it or anyone around my desk.
Immediately, the majority of my students were around my desk earnestly attempting to help me find it. "Are you sure it's not in your bag Mrs. Chasm?", I was asked. "Do you think you left it in the cafeteria?", some suggested. I assured them my phone was left beside my computer. Finally, after more searching with my students, I finally said, "I know someone in here has my phone, and I want it back now. I will not say anything to you about it as long as you just give it back to me."
Surprisingly, most of my students acted genuinely upset. Many addressed the entire classroom with "Come on guys, give her the phone back. This is Mrs. Chasm! Don't do her this way after all she has done for us". They advised me to call the resource officers as they prepared for a search, which most seemed willing to do. Honestly, if I wasn't so upset, I would have been touched by their words. However, someone had my phone and was making no move to give it back. I felt the tears begin to burn my eyes, but I kept them back. I didn't know what to do because there were only fifteen minutes of class left.
As my students continued to demand that the person who took my phone return it, I weighed my options. Truthfully, I felt somehow responsible for it being taken. I should have not left it out. I sure as hell didn't want to explain to administration that I had left it out to be taken. I turned my back to them and pretended to search through my book bag yet again as a few tears slipped from my eyes and crept down my cheeks. I heard them in the background suggest over and over to call the resource officers. Finally, I heard one voice inform me that he was going to hit the call button for the officers. This jerked me out of my inaction.
With my back still to them, I said in a slightly raised,serious, tear-shaken tone for everyone to sit down and stop talking. After a bit of shuffling, an uncomfortable silence screamed at my back. I did not want to turn around, but I had no choice. I quickly poked around in my bag a couple more times in order to swipe the tears off my face incognito.
As I turned, I was stunned at the sight before me. My entire class of tenth graders sat in total attentive silence waiting for words to come out of my mouth. The entire class! A feat that had never occurred once the entire year. If I wasn't so upset, I would have laughed at the irony of it all. Catching a sob in my throat, I said, "I know someone in this room has my phone. I want you to know that I am not upset over the phone. (Not totally true. After all, I'm on a teacher's salary and could not really afford to get another one). I'm upset because I am hurt that you would actually do that to me. I'm that teacher that is always here for you. I'm that teacher who never slams you to other teachers and always believes in you. I'm that teacher who fights for you! And this is how you repay me?" The class remained dead silent. My voice cracked as I added, "Thanks a lot, I really appreciate it". Thankfully, the bell rang and class dismissed. I chose not to report my phone to anyone.
In my car, my safe place, I sobbed all the way to Verizon to get a new phone. I still couldn't believe the little shits took my phone. I reasoned with myself that this was it...the sign I needed to throw in the towel. It hurt because I did care so much for them...and this is what I get! Okay, so I was hurt and angry. I would discover the following day that this event was indeed a sign; however, it was a sign for me to stay instead of leaving.
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