Outliving

It was only ever a theoretical possibility. In our modern world, however, it could be considered a grim statistical inevitability for a hypothetical future occasion.

Until today.

Today it became clear that the core of the vocational passion that has borne the assaults of life rests on a simple assumption: the student is supposed to outlive the teacher. For every lesson taught, every skill developed, every conversation had, the student is supposed to outlive the teacher.

Yet, you didn’t make it to 12.

What happens now?

Do I cross out your name on the seating plan or leave it so I’ll remember to remember? What do I do with your last unit exam still sitting in the desk drawer? What do I do with the memories of seeing you make complex connections in your head and then watching in amusement as your eyes lit up? Or the fact that you were always standing outside the classroom door right after the lunch bell every Thursday waiting to come in?

What do I do with outliving you?

We, the teachers, are not supposed to outlive you, the students. If we did, does it not negate the whole point? If the point is to envision, shape, and create the future, then you have to be around for it. If the point of the vocation is negated because you’re not around to shape the future, then where does that leave the vocation?