The Soul of a School

It has become almost unbearable to open a newspaper. Trinidad and Tobago seems to be drowning in the blood of young, misguided men. As a teacher, when I read about the stabbing to death of a sixteen year old, immediately I thought, "Thank God it wasn't in my school." However, the horrible fact is that it could have been my school. It could be any school.

Almost daily I see students who allow their tempers, and a need to prove their so-called masculinity, get the better of them. I am very aware that some of the boys in front of me every day come from homes characterised by abject poverty, violence and parents who honestly do not care.

This is why today stood out for me. In 2008, how often do we hear positive stories about young men? Especially young men who are from impoverished backgrounds or single parent homes? Today my school taught me a great lesson in humility and love, all because of one very special young man.

When I first started teaching at my current school, he was Head Prefect. He was still a student but was trusted by all, including our beloved former principal (another man of worth). The principal gave him the chance to return as a teacher after he graduated, and so starts the story for most of the present generation of boys.

I have always known that he was a popular, well-liked teacher. Only today, though, did I see how needed he was and still is. When he told us that he was leaving I felt sad, but I felt glad that he was going on to better opportunities. I spoke strongly against him letting his emotion make him stay. Now I understand his worth. And even though I realise that he has to go, I feel almost as desperate as the boys do at his loss.

At a school special assembly this morning, there was a great outpouring of love by both staff and students. I wish the administration had seen it fit to be part of the students' efforts, so that they could have seen what I saw.

Student after student came forward, both at the assembly and at the function the sixth-formers held after. One by one they gave their stories of how this teacher had helped them. Without shame they related details of fatherless existences, days with no money to get home, days with the knowledge that no food was waiting at home. They spoke of feelings of victimisation at the hands of teachers or other trusted adults; and the feeling that nobody cared.

Tear after tear I saw today. These boys and girls did not try to hide it. Football players, band members, prayer group members and teachers were all crying and showing their love for their own personal angel. Students who are known mostly for being in the office or out of class were there, as were transfer students who shared their insecurities about entering a well-known "prestige" school from junior secondary schools. All of these children, our future, had one thing to say: "Thank you Sir for being there. You were our strength, our hope when we had none, our father, our brother and most of all, our friend."

This one teacher gives me cause to say that maybe T&T is not in such a bad way after all. To have inspired such love and loyalty from students before reaching the age of twenty-three is uncommon. But what I really understood from today's events, what I really wish that the administration had seen, was not a teacher's farewell. It was the fact that these little people that we stand up in front of every day and get aggravated with are PEOPLE. They are worthwhile, loving, caring boys and girls. Many of them said, "Miss I lost the only person who was on my side." I realise that we may feel that they do not wish to listen or learn, but they showed me today that they do and they appreciate what we can do.

I hugged so many crying footballers today. These are boys whose teachers complain about their rudeness or lack of interest. Sir would listen to them, help them, write SBAs, give free lessons and support.

I could only feel humbled by this young man who has achieved this without a degree, a diploma in education, and even without being a government paid teacher! I could only sit and look in amazement and say a silent prayer of thanks that I remember my humility, and try to apply it to my dealings with my boys.

I told Sir today that the soul of the school is not its administration or even its staff. The soul of my school is the students. And rest hopefully, my fellow Trinbagonians. It is said that the school is a tiny replica of society. Well today, not only did I see the soul of a school, but I also saw the soul of our nation reflected in the emotional outpouring of love by teenagers, some of whom could be categorised as high-risk. I have seen this soul, and it is bright and vibrant and loving.