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Newark Public Schools

The U.S. Department of Education

For Teachers:
Full coverage of Education Insights

September 5, 2001

Editor's note: Julie taught a summer school class of third graders in Newark, New Jersey--a city that continuously does poorly on statewide and national standardized tests.

Week Six - Saying good-bye

Today was the last day of school.

The moment I walked onto the playground, I had three sets of arms wrapped around me and voices mumbling into my stomach, "Miss Julie, I'm going to miss you." Not nearly prepared to begin my farewells to these children, I reminded them, "Hey, hey, not yet…we still have a whole day at camp together."

Tyronne ran over to me, jumped into my arms with the biggest smile plastered across his face, and I spun him in circles. When I put him down, he asked me, "Miss Julie, could I sit by you on the bus?"

Trying to make a lasting impression

Latasha came as we were getting on the bus, and halfway to Kids Camp I realized that she wasn't with us. I didn't know what happened to her. When I asked Mrs. Johnson, I found out that she hadn't been wearing her school t-shirt, and so her mother had been called and she had been sent home.

This upset me very much. It's the last day of school and instead of just letting the child wear an extra t-shirt from the nurse's office, Miss Alexander decides to send the child home. So, the brief hug she gave me was the last I saw of my girl.

It upset me even more because I know that Latasha has self-esteem problems. Being around me makes her feel good about herself. I know it, and on our last day, she was robbed of this.

Incidents like these make me feel that my traces in the sands of these children's lives are being swept away by the fierce winds of tough school teachers and administrators who only understand the rules in black and white and don't take the time to consider or understand a child.

What is more important in this case? The fact that she broke a rule or that this is the last day she will spend with her college teachers?

I said goodbye to Rita this morning. She is an inspiration. I don't know very many Indian people who have gone into a social service field, especially not people of my parents' generation, and it really is a wonder to meet someone with her patience, understanding and dedication. It's definitely not the money that keeps her working for the children; she has heart.

We never really had a full conversation, although when I had problems in my classroom, she was the one person I thought of calling up and asking for advice.

Some of my issues with the children must have seemed so basic to a seasoned teacher such as herself, but she never made me feel as though I was just missing the obvious; she understood that I am learning, too. I am going to miss her.

We talked about upcoming weddings that we are both attending and I thanked her for all of her support. I really hope that I keep in touch with this woman. She has not lost her optimism and passion, and yet she has the seasoned sense of what is practical.

Never leave the kids behind

As my life goes on, I have mixed feelings. Part of me, as I have restated in this journal, wants never to leave these kids behind. I want to hold their hands and make sure that, at least until they get themselves into college, they never smoke a joint, never take one too many sips of alcohol, never decide to wear a (gang) color, and never let a boy into their beds and wake up nine months later with a child.

I want to make sure that Jamal realizes his potential, that Latasha begins to believe in herself, that Erika stops beating up on other kids, and that Tyronne eventually goes to Duke.

And then, there is the selfish side of me that is ready to just go back to being a college student, go back to studying for my classes, have dinner with my family and call up my friends. I am going to go back to saying what I want, doing what I want, partying when I want, and being responsible for myself, and only myself.

Saying goodbye to the children was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. It took about 45 minutes. At one point, I was walking Joselito back to his class. He held my hand and looked up at me. "Guess what, Miss Julie?"

"What, sweetie?"

"I always know your name now."

"Yes, you do. I'm very proud of you," I smile at him.

"And you know what?" he asks in that little mousy voice of his.

"What?"

"I'm never going to forget it, either."

I want to break down and cry right then. But, I hold it back for about 12 minutes, until I start to say goodbye to Jessica, Joseph, Jamal, Tyronne, Jose, Tracy, Barry, Erika, Lisa, Keith, and Crystal. I hug each of them tightly, (and I as finish hugging each one of them, Jamal rushes back to put his arms around me), kiss them on the head and make them promise to write me letters.

When Joseph hugs me, I can't breathe. I am crying. My kids are talking about how I am crying. I can't believe that I will not walk onto this playground on Monday morning. I must come back to visit.

As Jack and I are about to begin our walk back to Seton Hall, I say goodbye to another teacher, Mrs. Robeson.

"You should really think about working with kids," she tells me. "You have the gift."

I smile weakly, not entirely over my tears.

"You know how to be firm with them, and at the same time you show them a compassion that very few people know how to give to children." She stops for a moment.

"Believe me, I know, because there are too many people in my profession that don't have it. They don't have the gift, and that's the problem. You have it, and I hope you come back to us next summer."

"If I don't come back for the summer, I'll definitely be back to visit," I promise her.

"Oh, we'll be here," she says. "We'll all be here. But really think about being a teacher. I know what you're thinking. The last thing on earth that I ever wanted to be was a teacher. The last thing. Because, I thought that becoming a teacher was like taking a vow of poverty. Which is true," she laughs. "But I'm still here."

"I'll think about it," I tell her. "After this summer, how can I not?"

I thank her, and hug her. I wave to Rachel and Natalie. I blow kisses to my kids, and I turn around, and walk away. My body moves away from the school. But my heart is still there.

Sunday, I will fly to London on vacation. A week after I return, I will move back to school at Georgetown University.

I hope I never lose this feeling, though. Because I know I will never forget that this summer took place.

But there is remembering the fact that it happened, and then there is remembering all of the emotion and thought and revelation that went into it and that came out of it.

I hope I never lose this passion. I hope I always remember these kids that have earned themselves a very sacred place in my heart.

What do you think? Do you think teaching is easy or difficult? Do you want to become a teacher?

Names have been changed to protect student and teacher privacy.