The Gift
Congratulations to boyfriend - today is the last day of his job. For the last two years he's being giving blood, sweat and tears to a program that places intelligent and hardworking recent college grads into urban or rural failing schools. It's hard to believe his two years is actually up.
I feel a little bit sad by it. No, I certainly wasn't the one in there every day doing the work, but I was standing by and supporting. I remember as college was ending we were hoping and praying that he would get a placement in the same city (or at least state) where I got into law school. It was a rough year of waiting, gambling and a decent amount of crossing fingers. It turned out the best we could do was four hours away from one another. Four hours apart while I struggled with school and self during law school... four hours apart while he tried to create change in a community that had everything working against it.
I remember driving him to the airport with his parents that summer as we put him on a plane to California for his one month crash course training session. He was so excited and nervous, and he sure as hell had no idea what was in store for him.
I remember driving to Pittsburgh with my parents while he was still in California, trying to find an apartment where (at the time I thought) I'd be spending the next three years of my life. After an extremely stressful day in the heat, having no idea what we were doing, and seeing some apartments that we growing black mold in the sink, I freaked out back at our hotel. I was crying, shaking uncontrollably, and all I knew was that there was no way in hell I could do this. I didn't want to do this. So far away from family, from friends (who are family), from boyfriend (who is everything ). My dad approached me with the hard line, "You can't quit now.. you've got to be a trooper." My mom played the softy, "You can always come back if it doesn't work out." I took to crying in the stairwell and calling boyfriend.
That night while I was sleeping and sniveling in the hotel bed, he was writing me an email from across the country. He should have been sleeping... the training session really only allotted for a few hours each night. Sometimes I look at that e-mail and try to recall that period in our lives. He tried to show me that I didn't have to do anything; I had many other options. It sounds like a basic concept, but truly, I never believed I had any other option than to go. His e-mail was so full of love and hope and gentleness. It reminded me of laughing and passing notes with him in high school and seeing an amazing world in his eyes that seemed so totally possible when he's near.
He works so hard to be better at whatever he's doing, and this year he can actually see in much raised test scores that his work in this program paid off. He'll miss the kids he worked with. I know he worries about not being able to keep in touch with them. Maybe, and most likely, he can't follow them throughout their lives, but surely they'll take parts of him with them.
Because if they looked they would see the same thing I saw in high school, in college, in that e-mail he wrote from California to Pittsburgh, and in the smile he greets me with every morning. They would see their potential in his eyes, they'd see the world as a place that's trying it's best, and they'd see that if they reach for it then there is opportunity... then what seems impossible becomes possible.
I feel a little bit sad by it. No, I certainly wasn't the one in there every day doing the work, but I was standing by and supporting. I remember as college was ending we were hoping and praying that he would get a placement in the same city (or at least state) where I got into law school. It was a rough year of waiting, gambling and a decent amount of crossing fingers. It turned out the best we could do was four hours away from one another. Four hours apart while I struggled with school and self during law school... four hours apart while he tried to create change in a community that had everything working against it.
I remember driving him to the airport with his parents that summer as we put him on a plane to California for his one month crash course training session. He was so excited and nervous, and he sure as hell had no idea what was in store for him.
I remember driving to Pittsburgh with my parents while he was still in California, trying to find an apartment where (at the time I thought) I'd be spending the next three years of my life. After an extremely stressful day in the heat, having no idea what we were doing, and seeing some apartments that we growing black mold in the sink, I freaked out back at our hotel. I was crying, shaking uncontrollably, and all I knew was that there was no way in hell I could do this. I didn't want to do this. So far away from family, from friends (who are family), from boyfriend (who is everything ). My dad approached me with the hard line, "You can't quit now.. you've got to be a trooper." My mom played the softy, "You can always come back if it doesn't work out." I took to crying in the stairwell and calling boyfriend.
That night while I was sleeping and sniveling in the hotel bed, he was writing me an email from across the country. He should have been sleeping... the training session really only allotted for a few hours each night. Sometimes I look at that e-mail and try to recall that period in our lives. He tried to show me that I didn't have to do anything; I had many other options. It sounds like a basic concept, but truly, I never believed I had any other option than to go. His e-mail was so full of love and hope and gentleness. It reminded me of laughing and passing notes with him in high school and seeing an amazing world in his eyes that seemed so totally possible when he's near.
He works so hard to be better at whatever he's doing, and this year he can actually see in much raised test scores that his work in this program paid off. He'll miss the kids he worked with. I know he worries about not being able to keep in touch with them. Maybe, and most likely, he can't follow them throughout their lives, but surely they'll take parts of him with them.
Because if they looked they would see the same thing I saw in high school, in college, in that e-mail he wrote from California to Pittsburgh, and in the smile he greets me with every morning. They would see their potential in his eyes, they'd see the world as a place that's trying it's best, and they'd see that if they reach for it then there is opportunity... then what seems impossible becomes possible.
1 Comments:
Awe. You're boyfriend is adorable (Plus, we know he's cute since he resembles MY husband)
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