His name was Michael. He was a unique looking boy with an overgrown crew cut, close-set eyes and crooked front teeth that made his quick smile appear pixyish. He was every bit as mischievous as he appeared, and he walked a fine line between good and bad.
While I was finishing up my teaching credential, I substitute taught—and that’s where I met him. I was warned that it was the sixth-grade class from hell, by well meaning teachers. Since I preferred students third-grade or below, one day in this classroom was enough for me. It just confirmed my decision to teach elementary school.
However, the joke was on me.
The following year, I was offered a full-time teaching position at the end of the first quarter at the middle school. The classes were too full and the school received approval to hire one teacher to take the overflow. I’d been working as a long-term substitute for a new teacher who fell ill and the principal liked what he saw. Since I hadn’t yet started my student teaching, he jumped through hoops to get me hired on. I was excited, but also terrified. In middle school, students had a Core teacher—English, language and history. Math and science were two other classes, taught by two other teachers. I was asked to teach all subjects. One core class, one math/science combo as well as a new class to help kids who were falling behind and needed a little extra help.
My morning class was the math/science combo. When Michael walked in the door, I recognized him immediately. He wasn’t the rowdy kid I remembered from the year before, and I wondered if he’d matured in the few months since I saw him. Or, maybe he just wasn’t a morning person. The last class of the day was Core—and I was shocked to discover Michael was in that class, as well. It didn’t take me long to realize that it wasn’t just the morning hours that kept Michael calm, it was the class dynamics. If you’ve ever been around a group of kids on any regular basis, you know that it only takes one to change the environment. I had three, including Michael, that made the last 2 1/2-hours of every day extremely challenging.
But I was so blessed to know the morning Michael. That’s where we clicked. He was a skater who liked to fit in with the rowdy boys, but he had such a sweet heart, and when those other influences weren’t around, Michael was a different person—quiet, thoughtful, connected.
I somehow survived my first chaotic year of teaching. The following year, I was offered an eighth-grade Core class. A cinch after the one I’d just finished. My friend and mentor teacher, Lisa, was doing something experimental in her eighth-grade class and wanted students who might benefit from it. I suggested Michael be in there. I knew with a little discipline and lots of structure (which was her forte), he could excel.
The first day of school, Michael approached me at recess. “I wanna be in your class,” he told me.
I was truly touched, as Michael had become very important to me, which is why I suggested he be in Lisa’s class. “You already have the perfect Core teacher, Michael. Give her a chance.”
I was later talking to my principal and he informed me that Michael’s mother had come to school to request he be transferred into my classroom. Again I was touched, but also grateful that my principal didn’t cow tow to her request, because I wanted Michael to have the best. Lisa had years of experience, and I knew she was a much better teacher. Still, every time I was on yard duty, Michael would search me out. Over time, he stopped requesting the transfer and just hung out with me. I never got tired of that pixyish grin.
That February, a group of boys were going to catch a bus headed up to the nearby ski resort. It was the Saturday before Valentine’s Day. The high school student picking up the group wasn’t supposed to be driving without adult supervision. He was sixteen, and had already been ticketed for speeding more than once. There were five other boys in the car—none of whom wore seat belts. Although the sun was out, and it was a clear day, the roads were slick. The driver missed a curve and the car went off an embankment, hitting a tree.
Michael was in the front seat and his body was catapulted through the windshield. Other kids sustained injuries, as well, but Michael was the only one put on life support. Two days later, on his fourteenth birthday—Valentine’s Day—they pulled the plug.
I was still numb with grief when I attended the funeral. Lisa was there, as well. She was the least emotional person I knew—like a robot, which was one reason she was such a good teacher. But that day, she crumpled in my arms, both of us sobbing.
“I have something for you,” she said, wiping her eyes. She reached into her bag and pulled out a black-marbled composition notebook. “It was Michael’s. Look at the first page.”
I flipped the cover and saw his dedication: To my favorite teacher, Mrs. Combs (which was my last name at the time). Everything I write is for you. Tears welled again, and it was all I could do not to wail as I handed it back to Lisa.
“No.” She shook her head. “You keep it. He would have wanted you to have it.”
Two years later, Michael’s younger sister was in my class. She never mentioned him, and I wondered if the pain of that loss was still too keen to voice. She was quiet and composed—shy beyond belief. And I hope her being my class was as comforting to her as it was to me.
I think about Michael often. He was the first challenging student I had, and although there were many more after him, his crooked smile will forever live in my heart. We never talked about his faith, but I have a feeling that I’ll be seeing him again on the other side of heaven.
Comments 1
I love this story. Except for the end Michael reminds me of Joel, my second son, my middle child. Everybody loved him, especially the ladies. He was a charmer. But in school he had many challenges. It got so bad that he couldn’t stand to be in school and in his Sophomore year he quit. We helped him enroll in the STAR program to prepare him for his GED test. When he finished, he passed his GED class. He started working and while he still had challenges he continued to be the charming kid. He is now happily married with a baby daughter and happily working as a chef in a vegan restaurant.