Home Page - Mark's Journal - 13 Seasons in Hell

Saturday 13 September 2003

In May of this year, I began running into my former students more often. May is the month the weather starts to turn nice in Wisconsin, and people turn to outdoor activities until hunting season is over. With me walking everywhere I went, the number of students seeing me out and about increased considerably.

Whenever I'd run into one, he or she would ask how I was doing... if there was time to talk I'd be truthful about how much it hurt not teaching... for those who were merely passing by I'd say I was "hanging in there," or "using my coping skills." Each conversation closed with the same sentence: "Please say hi to people who care for me." Every student knew what it meant.

Over the course of conversations this spring I learned that the week after I was pushed out of the school, one student bought a disco ball and hung it in the middle of what was once my classroom. The "long-term sub" asked why he was doing it, and the student replied it gives the class atmosphere. I knew it to be the headstone marking the grave of a departed friend. I learned that four students jumped a mouthy little ass hole, punched him in the face, and said if he ever said anything about it he'd get it twice as bad next time. I learned that a normally reserved parent was in the principal's office, the conversation included the subject of my non-employment, and (according to two students sitting outside the office) the parent screamed "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Three students who worked with me at APAC have always had time for me: Katie, Andy, and Sam. Nearly every day each would say something about what I meant to them. Katie is now attending UW-La Crosse and I spent a couple three-hour tutoring sessions with her this past week to help her test out of her math class there. Andy graduated this year and has moved into a house with his older brother, also a former student of mine. Sam is a senior now and gives the principal shit every time he has opportunity... he still feels bitter about losing his favorite teacher.

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