How do you teach love? – Why we need to seek to love the unlovable.

How do you teach love? – Why we need to seek to love the unlovable.

We are all given gifts and talents. It is our job to use them to do good in the world.

At one time, even the man behind the Florida shooting was someone’s baby. Someone’s child. Someone’s hope for the future.

It’s hard to imagine him that way isn’t it?

Innocent. Full of life and love. For a time, he did not know hatred, nor violence, nor revenge. But then a deadly cocktail of factors created a hate-fueled, dark and complex puzzle; and when the last piece fell into place, the damage could not be undone.

He’s not the first, and he will not be the last.

This recent shooting, and the ones before it, simply cannot be ended by looking at one single piece of this dark puzzle. But lately, my social media has become a breeding ground for hate-filled rhetoric from all sides, each proclaiming that something as horrific as the death of 17 innocent lives can be explained away and solved with one solution. And if you aren’t on board with that one solution, then you’re wrong.

Wouldn’t it be so easy if we could will the evil away with one change? There is some truth to everyone’s rationale, and a need to fervently approach this from many angles. But most of all, there is a need to understand each piece of the puzzle. Especially those pieces that we refuse to recognize. Otherwise, our failure to listen to one another will cost us. Or rather, it will cost our children.

It already has.

This blog post is simply about what I can contribute and share when it comes to the puzzle piece that I know all too well. In essence, it’s not even really about the shooting. Or any school shooting for that matter. It’s about the reality of what I see every day in my classroom, and the dramatic way that the culture of our youth has shifted. Whether it’s the student behind the gun. Or the bullying. Or the hate. Or the violence. These students were all, at one time, someone’s innocent child.

Each day, roughly 180 teenagers walk through my classroom door. In the last twelve years I have taught over 1,000 students between the ages of 11 and 19. They come from all races, all ethnicities, all backgrounds, and all religions. However, these days, more and more are being labeled as “at risk”. And that number is steadily rising. Who are they? They’re the poverty stricken, the second language learner, the single parent student, the foster child, the previously incarcerated juvenile delinquent, the first generation high school student.

So many labels.

Labels identifying them by problems or hardships the world has given them. None of which they willingly chose.

I see my students for approximately 180 days a year. That’s 246 minutes a week. In that time, I am expected to teach, mentor, discipline, counsel, inspire, love, and encourage. I am expected to treat each one as an individual, while also rigorously preparing them for a singular test, created to assess their aptitude and intelligence. A test that compares them to students not labeled with the characteristics mentioned above. On this test, there is no answer to complete that says, “fill in this circle if you spent last night in foster care, and where you will spend tonight…that is unknown”. There is no marker for “child whose father is incarcerated for gang affiliation and first degree murder”. Yet, they’re all given the same test. The same assumption that learning happens in one way.

For many of my students, the 246 minutes spent in my classroom, and a few others, may be the only time they feel safe, loved, and understood. Too often, when you give everything of yourself to provide these things for your students, you also become their lifeline. There are some days where I have to prepare myself for what I can only describe as a mental battle. It sounds extreme, but the things I have heard and witnessed ARE extreme. And they make my heart cry out in fear for the future of our youth.

Some days, my students break me. The weight of being the model of compassion and love, strength and forgiveness…it can be exhausting. Sometimes their stories are too heartbreaking. Too overwhelming. Sometimes their anger is directed at me, because they know I won’t cast them aside. They know my love is unconditional. And they test it every single day. I work with some amazing people who wake up and CHOOSE to fight the good fight. But when you have a school of thousands, how do you separate the bad from the worse? Who gets the help when so much help is needed?  

This morning, I spent three hours in a superior court in California. I was there to be an advocate for a student who had a foster hearing. I think every human should have to attend one of these in their life. They should have to sit in a crowded hallway with children, as they wait for their names to be called. Walking through doors and into a fate that doesn’t usually have a happy ending. Maybe then the world will understand why our children have changed so much.

Many nights I come home from work and watch my own babies sleeping. Tears roll down my face as I watch them take calm, peaceful breaths. Untouched by hatred and the cruelty of the world, they are the very picture of innocence. Then I realize that there is nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do for them. Nothing that could ever make me stop loving them, and nothing that could prevent me from fiercely protecting them. My heart then turns to my students. I remember that so many, have never had a face look down on them, sleeping innocently, and feel the way I do when I look at my own children.

So when we post on social media about parents needing to be more strict. When we call out for them to teach manners. To raise our expectations. Take it back to “the old days” of discipline. My question to those suggestions is, so what if that doesn’t exist? What if there is no morally sound voice in their life to steer them in the right direction? No one to teach them manners. What if their example is surrounded by violence, despair, and poverty? Are you willing to step in and be that person? Are you willing to sit in a courtroom as a judge declares a child a ward of the state because they’re home environment is not safe?

Are you willing to love what many consider the unlovable?

Because when our youth have no strong voice to guide them, they go into survival mode. They create their own role models, and sometimes their choices exemplify the behavior that was most likely modeled for them. Mildly put, our children are becoming completely desensitized. Every viral video, every snapchat, and every mature YouTube video they watch, slowly steals away a piece of their innocence. There is no shock value left; rather, our children (even those not deemed at risk) are continually searching deeper and deeper for something that WILL shock them. Technology and social media have become our greatest success, but also, our greatest downfall when it comes to our children.

Why?

Because they’re watching. And they’re listening. And the damage we are doing is profound. Hateful words blasted on social media, memes saturated with one sided thinking, and displays of intolerance do not go unnoticed by our youth or the people who are caring for them. They are sponges, and many of them do not possess the ability to filter truth from lie. Right from wrong. We often ask ourselves why do kids bully? It’s simple. They watch us do it to one another all the time. As comments behind a facebook status or a shared article that ignites a wildfire of biased arguing. We just don’t call it bullying because we’re adults. Right?

It begs the question, what legacy are we leaving for our children?  

So what IS the answer? I’ve done this job for a long time and I still  don’t know. But I know my part. I know that my gift is to see the good in EVERY child. To stand up for them, to fight for them, and to love them when no one else will. It’s the reason why I, and so many other teachers, began this journey in education in the first place.

Our world isn’t getting any kinder, but does that mean we throw our hands up and give in? Because I am just not willing to do that. The power to change the world comes with those who will reside here in the future. Our children.

So…

Let us choose kindness. Through our words AND our actions.

Let us commit to be the human that walks into the lives of children and remain there as a beacon of light.

But most of all, let us fight to be the example our children need. And not just to the ones that we bore by blood.

To my students,

You are so many things. You are strong and brave. You are worthy of opportunity and you are not defined by your circumstances. I can’t take the hatred of the world away. I can’t change it with a snap of my fingers. But I can show you that there is a light too.

I will go to sleep…and tomorrow, I will be there again.

I will show up for you.

And no matter how many times the world refuses to love you because they see you as unlovable. Do not fear.

Because I will.

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