Teaching Teachers By Heart

Today was a day unlike any other. I got to help my mother create a Power Point about Joshua, my brother. I got to sit alone in a room and listen to her make a presentation about his life and death, and I got to sit in a room packed with High School teachers who listened too. Walking through the doors of the High School where I got dropped off every morning I was excited, nervous, and also grieving. Ever since my mom had said she was presenting to the district teachers, I had wanted to come with her. I knew how painful it was going to be for her and I wanted to be there in case she needed me. Little did I know that was exactly how it was supposed to turn out.

We got into the room where she was presenting about two hours before she was up. All the teachers were in another room listening to another presentation, so we had some time to work out technical glitches. We hooked up the laptop, put it up on the wall in front of nine tables each with five chairs, and began work. We wrote her speech, fixed errors, practiced presentations, ran the slide shows, and basically reviewed everything she had been working on for the past week. It was fun but it was also very sad, watching all of Joshua's pictures go by, never really being able to look at them as long as I would have liked to. Mom's presentation even as she just practiced was fabulous, even though she said at the time that she was very nervous and was thinking about backing out. “Mom,” I told her, “You're presenting your son's story to fifty of my teachers who probably need a good story to get through their heads about the effects of bullying. This is no time to call in sick!” Her presentation began by telling the story of Joshua's life, how he was a happy little boy who loved baseball and bike rides and playing catch. And then she moved to the times when he started to grow up and be bullied to the maximum. It ended with his death and the police report about it. She didn't even have to break in her story to stop crying, but I kept hearing people sniffling. I turned my head towards the laptop where I had to press the clicker. I couldn't believe my peripheral vision : maybe half of the whole assembly of math, history, science, and English teachers were crying. Some were weeping, some merely had watery eyes. There were a few women next to me who were actually crying, tears pouring down their eyes as my mother told the story of Joshua's broken heart. “You don't want to be that one teacher,” she said, looking out and making eye contact with them, “that sees the kid being bullied and doesn't say anything. You don't want to hear about how, because the issue was in your hands and you did nothing, that kid won't be coming back to school next year, or ever.”

I heard muffled sobs a few rows back, and I looked up into the projected image and into Joshua's smiling face, a boy whose heart was too big and whose family adored him. Now, thanks to my mother, the entire assembly knew exactly what could happen to a student who was bullied. “I address you,” my mother said, “not as teachers and faculty, although that is what you are, but as parents, aunts and uncles and grandmothers. Let this touch your heart.” It worked so well.

When she ended the presentation, and the whole assembly was clapping and crying, I saw her give them a smile and sit down near me again. The teachers, some of whom I had had classes with, all of whom I respected, began to move around in the room, talking to each other, coming over to congratulate my mother or give her a hug. Some even came to me and thanked me for putting the presentation together. Some of them were my teachers. I saw them every day. I learned from them. And they all had a new respect and a new pity in their eyes when they came over. “Please,” one said, “If you ever see bullying around, or anywhere, let me know, feel free to come talk to me about it.” I was absolutely stunned. “Well yes,” I said, “I try to report it any time I can.” “Good, you know … it's a very serious problem, we need to figure out new ways to put a stop to it, if we're going to fix it it's going to have to be quick.” I found myself speechless.

Other teachers simply gave me a hug, some of them were still crying when they said they were sorry for our loss...

I've never seen so many people who looked so united in their sadness and horror. They all rose up to the challenge of stopping bullying, and all rose up to thank me and my mother.



McDonalds afterward was kind of funny. The thing was, mommy got through her entire presentation without even saying, “Um...” Or even stuttering, so we got to the drive through and she says, “I'd like two extra double cheese-I mean cheese no, I mean no cheese, hamburgers, um double hamburgers absolutely plain, no cheese.” We cracked up.

~Joshua's Sister Danielle Age 14