Losing a Student

I got a message this morning that I’ve gotten too many times over the years as a teacher. They all start the same way: “I am so sorry to tell you…” or “Did you hear about…” or “I thought you’d want to know…” Like so many, many other things that we teachers can never be prepared for in our college classes or professional development seminars or even just through years of experience, losing students is just part of loving students.

Her name is Lisa. She was the kid who did everything well, yet everyone still really liked her. She went to college on a full scholarship, started doing drugs, and then started really doing drugs. Her mom asked me if I’d go talk to her, and I dropped everything, drove to her college, and staged a one-woman intervention. I couldn’t convince her to come home with me that day, but she did go into rehab a couple of weeks after I visited her. She overdosed later that summer. Her mom gave me her picture, laminated with a Bible verse on the back. I put it on my Christmas tree every year, up on top alongside ornaments for my dad, my grandparents, and my nephew: my personal angels.

His name is Brian. The smile on that kid was epic. He died in a stupid accident that left everyone reeling with the senselessness of it and the seemingly random finger of fate that just happened to point to him. All of his classmates felt mortality’s shadow pass over them, and they were shaken.

Her name is Brittany. She hated my class. I thought it was because she hated me, but I realized it was because my class made her feel stupid…