Empty Nest

I'm a mess.

My "babies" had their 8th grade graduation ceremony today. They started walking into the cafeteria, and from my vantage point of the stage I could see them all-- nervous and excited-- and started to get a bit misty. Then, one of my girls from 6th grade caught my eye. Her lip quivered. I lost it. Then. Professor Juan (the adorable dimple-festooned student who would say "coooookie?" to me and cheer me up my first year) gave a speech.

"Juanito" talked about how hard it was to make it in this country, and how he came here knowing no English. After having teachers and parents who trusted him, he trusted them back and mastered the language, and moved into advanced classes-- all before 8th grade. He said something about being excited for the future because if he could accomplish this.... well, what else could he do? What else could he master? And that little cute voice of his, and those dimples, and the message of hope and hard work and the thanks and credit he gave to US? .... I lost it again.

And then they walked out. More sentimental music. I walked out, stared at the sky and kept saying "Don't talk to me! Don't talk to me! I can't look at you, I'm going to cry!"
"You're ALREADY crying, Miss J!" they said. And dozens of hugs (and pictures) soon followed. And then? They went home. 11:00 and my babies were gone. My chicos and chicas had flown the coop.

After school, Ms. C (their math teacher) and I were invited to a graduation party, but not long after we arrived it was clear that this party wasn't for Janneth. Yes, a handful of her friends where there. Yes, a few family members were there. But SHE'D made the dinner. She'd made the appetizers and the dessert. She bought flowers.

For us.

And of course, I lost it again.

I don't care how many mothers argue with me. This is worse. You know when you send your babies off to high school or college that they are and always will be your babies. You will know how to get in touch with them. You know their phone numbers and where they're living. You can keep in touch with them easily and feel assured that they will call you if they need you.

But I have no idea what will happen to my kids. Kids who have dealt with parents who have been shot to death or sent to jail, the pressures of drugs and gangs. Unimaginable things. And they stand above it. Or, thus far, they have.

Dealing with apathy is hard. Trying to make everything creative is hard. But the hardest thing of all is letting go of them. Instead, I know I'll sit here and wonder: Are they safe? Are they healthy? Are they happy? Are they successful? Do they need help? Do they need someone to listen? Do they need someone to egg them on?

It's only been a couple hours and I miss them already.

Story Reminder

Remind me:
Brytonn-- as a crayon. The dance off. Jaguar idol host.

Hope

A sound I've been longing to hear. For months.

Thunder.
The heavens are cracking. Wind whistles. And oh-- the rain.

I'd rather hear the sound of impending rain than any "Miss J, you're RIGHT."

I love tormenting them.

Jesus: (in cute Mexican accent) Meez Jaaaay, do you have cee-zars?
Me: Seizures? No, I'm not epilleptic.
Jesus: No! No! Big teacher cee-zars! Big nice ones!
Me: Like a salad? I don't have a Cesar salad either. I had a sandwich for lunch and that was hours ago.
Jesus: MISS J!
Me: What? Tee hee hee!

Girl: K, so, Miss J--
Me: Dude. Did you just call me queso Miss J? I mean, I know I'm from Wisconsin and all, but I don't appreciate being called cheese.
Girl: What?!
Me: I know, my jokes... sometimes awful. Maybe even cheesy. But it's not nice. I don't call you carne asada girl.
Girl: Oh my god.

Me: Pablo, what are you doing?
Pablo: NOTHING!
Me: Seriously?
Pablo: Yes!
Me: Did everyone hear that?
(Everyone nods) Pablo totally just said he's doing NOTHING in my class. How is that acceptable?
Pablo: MISS J!
Me: What?

Me: Adrian. You're out of line. Why? Do you think you're special?
Adrian: NO!
Me: No? Really? That's kinda sad, cuz I always thought you were kind of special. Interesting. Good kid. I mean, you beat box and everything. But now that I know you're not special..... I mean, not special at all....
Adrian: NO! I am! I am special!
Me: Didn't you guys hear that? You heard him say it right? I mean, I'm not going crazy.....
Adrian: (stomping up and down) I AM SPECIAL! I AM!

Tee hee hee!

Photos of my Room

Highlighter

Did you know that kids have been known to yank out a highlighter's guts and stick WEED in the empty cavity? SO THEY CAN sneak their repulsive contraband to school and SMOKE a JOINT IN THE BATHROOM?!

My initial emotion was that of annoyance (You're KIDDING! Who's selling them this crap?! What the hell are they thinking?!?!), and then I was struck by the Brutal Gavel of Irony.

.... Highlighter.