Sweet Surrender

I came to school this morning with knots in my stomach. I could not eat. I was so concerned about seeing my students, my senior girls who I have had for 2 years. They were my initiation. I am their finale. I waited in front of my hallway, watching the door for these girls who have given me laughter, hope and tears. The first one came in, head in her hands, crying. I have never seen this girl not smile. I ran to her, as tears welled up in my eyes, I threw my arms around her and guided her to my room, her arms clinging to my torso, my shoulder soaked from her tears. I ushered her, along with two of her friends, into my empty room. She sat atop a desk, I sat next to her, crying, saying only that I wished I could take this pain away from her; I cannot, so tell me what you need. After ten minutes I had six more of my girls in my room. I made some phone calls, pulled some strings . . . Some simply came to me. They were silent with tears for thirty minutes. I hugged them all, tightly, and told them how sorry I was, and how precious it is that they are here, together, to grieve and support.
Then I asked them if they thought about what their names would be when they married. Laughter. Precious, precious laughter. And questions. And more tears.
What would they do for graduation in memory of A? Ah, someone wanted to let out balloons. No, no. If they pop, birds will eat them and die. No surprise. They all laughed. Hippie Kinzie. Always thinking about the little animals and the environment!
Ok, how about butterflies? We can order them. Um, really? They all looked at me, what? What is wrong with this? Well, when you get them, most of them are usually dead.
What, pray tell, is your suggestion?
Thank god, I thought you would never ASK! Much laughter.
Flower petals. Flower petals on the football field.
Fabulous. We are all appeased!
Now, they need something constructive. PLANT A TREE! YES! Perfect. Survey the scene. Here is the perfect spot. A cherry tree . . . No, NOT a weeping willow. With a bench underneath it.
They were talking about me on Friday. They decided I was the one to go to if there was any problem. Love my "mediocre hippie style" . . . and what on earth does 'wicked' mean, anyway? More tears and laughter. Still no answers for them. But I surrendered to this beauty.
Tomorrow is the funeral. Things are not going to be easier tomorrow. If only I could have them for four hours again tomorrow . . .
There is no protection I can give to them. No answers that will make them sleep at night. Teaching is about learning, especially learning how to let go--and then turn around and embrace. If you offered me hundreds of thousands of dollars to quit this job, I would not.
Think about that--and ask yourself if you are willing to surrender.