A Writing Journey

I walk into Mrs. V’s classroom a few minutes past the bell. I apologize.

“I’m sorry for being late. There was a student who was having a melt-down in the hallway. Traffic was backed up!” I quipped, as I unload my books on her desk. 

Seeyna (what I call her out of earshot of students) looks up.

“No problem,” she says, her eyes a bit downcast.  The class is unusually quiet as students read to themselves at their desks. I think to myself: “Not the wide smile and welcoming ‘Hello!’ that I usually get when I walk in the room to support.”  But that thought is quickly replaced with another.

“So, for today’s literacy circles, I’ve planned something for Group A, and I think you’ve got things covered for the other two groups,” I begin.  I notice her searching for something beside her desk.

“Yes, I think I have the readers from last week…” her voice trails off. 

She’s now moving quickly from one shelf to the next. “Now, can I remember where I put them?” Her voice rose in frustration. 

In seconds, which seemed much longer, Seeyna finds what she is looking for. But it is clear as she turns to me that she has much weightier things on her mind.

“Giovanna, I’m sorry. Can you watch the class for me?” she asks, almost in a pleading way.

“Of course,” I respond. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” I ask out of a habit I developed in my spec ed support role, where I’m often asked to take the helm of the ship when the captain has to take a short pee break.

But, as soon as I said it, I knew this wasn’t the reason. 

“I’m sorry, Giovanna. I have a lot on my mind. My sister has been texting me all morning from Dubai. She lives there with her family. She has a baby and they can’t leave their home. It’s not safe. They want to get out of the country, if they can.”  

My urgency to begin literacy circles is halted. The cruel reality of the world outside our classroom, outside our country, hits me at this moment, and I realize the mental load my colleague carries.

“Yes, Seeyna, I’ll watch the class. You go do what you need to do,” I say, motioning toward the door. 

As she leaves, I look around the classroom at the students who are completely absorbed in their books, and who seem an ocean away from the burden their teacher carries.