I recently went back to high school to participate in a tribute concert for my choir teacher who is struggling with cancer. It was a privilege and an honor to have the opportunity to give her thanks. It was my first time being back in my old High School. I swore I would never go back. It took an event like her tribute concert to make me consider revisiting that place. My RSD began the month before the start of my junior year of High School. It took about four months before diagnosis. Those months were hard because while I was dealing with all this pain everyone believed that "technically" there was nothing wrong with me. I cannot even tell you how many adults thought I was faking the level of pain for attention. Choir was different. Everyone saw past my crutches and needing to leave class 5 minutes early, even my teacher.
I couldn't help having all those memories come flooding back while I walked down those old hallways. As I reconnected with people I sort of knew I was taken back by the fact that they did not remember me as "that" girl. Instead I was remembered as "that cute little girl who was always smiling, always happy." Some asked which year I graduated in and I found myself lying to them so they wouldn't question why I graduated a year after them. After all I was in all of their classes since middle school! I am embarrassed at how RSD made me need to take two senior years to graduate High School. I am proud of my accomplishment, I graduated without the help of most of my teachers. Still, if I told them when I graduated they would probably ask why and then I would have to explain my health. I didn't want to do that. I didn't want my RSD to interfere with what that night was really about. I was okay with the fact that they remembered my smile more than my pain. Especially when we were all gathered together for this special occasion. We were there to celebrate a teacher who stood out from all the rest and now she needed our help. That is something worth facing all those bad memories. For one night I didn't need to advocate for myself, raise awareness about RSD. For one day I could be a face in the crowd showing support for someone who made a difference in my life.
During my time at high school I had a lot of teachers and even my guidance counselor who worked against me. Yes, they actually worked against me. They didn't believe my diagnosis because they couldn't find it in a medical dictionary. My algebra teacher even confronted me one day saying "I tried to look up RSD in the medical dictionary but I couldn't find anything." My algebra teacher was one of those teachers who gave me a hard time about leaving class 5 minutes early. In fact when I had missed too much school because of my constant trips to Philadelphia's Temple University Hospital for my medical treatments a conference was called. I was in danger of flunking out of high school. I remember sitting at this big table with my Mom by my side and my guidance counselor advising me to "drop out of high school and get your GED when you get healthy." Tears welled up in my eyes but before I had a chance to respond a kind man from the Board of Education (I do not remember his name) said "Wait! She has another option!" Legally, I was considered a medically disabled student therefor I was entitled to some accommodations. This is when he explained that I could take my Senior year and split it up into two years. They would also give me a tutor that would pick up my school work, sit with me while I took tests and help me out. If I felt strong enough to attend school I would always be welcome, even if it was just for a day or two. I would be given a hall pass to leave each class 5 minutes early so that I wouldn't have to be afraid of someone walking into me, bumping me, and to walk as slow as I needed. I was given an elevator key to use so I wouldn't have to deal with the stairs. Of course, if I wanted to graduate I would still have to earn my diploma just like everyone else. I might have had help from the Board of Education but I did not have the support of my teachers, with the exception of two. My choir teacher and my Language Arts teacher from my second senior year. Not even my assigned tutor helped me. She was essentially a glorified delivery person and test administrator. I guess it is in how poorly I was treated by the majority that the seemingly simple extra help my choir teacher gave me makes her stand out in my memory.
Those first years living with my RSD were hard. I became depressed and withdrawn. It was hard to concentrate on anything but how miserable my life had become. I dwelled and fell even deeper into my depression. I was a teenager whose focus was daily survival. All my dreams for the future flew out the window. Instead of thinking about boys and what I wanted to be when I grew up or which college I wanted to attend my life, my reality, was centered around my visits to the hospital and a fight to stay out of a wheelchair. The battle felt hopeless and lonely.
Music was a source of hope for me. In a world that I could not control anything I learned that I could control my voice. My Choir Teacher was kind enough to send the sheet music home for me and she would record the music so I could practice at home. If she didn't send the music home I would not have been able to keep up with the class. I was in the mixed choir but I had also earned a seat in the honors choir class called State Liners Singers and I was a part of the Women's Ensemble. My voice earned me a position in those groups but I would not have been able to succeed if she did not go the extra mile for me. I don't know if she ever understood how this seemingly simple step she took for a student made a difference in my life. Music gave me hope. Especially the music choices she always made. Hope, that is what my choir teacher gave to me. A sense of belonging and a freedom to not be judged by my pain. Her song choices were always beautiful and spoke to me. Slowly, I was able to come out of my depression and put this hope to work at educating myself. I did not have the best GPA but I earned my high school diploma. On graduation day the seniors from the choir always sing at the ceremony. That song was my heart, it was my own victory dance.
I have so much respect for the great teachers of our time. In fact I have many teachers in my family and the boys Godfather is a teacher along with his wife and his brother. Teaching is a noble profession. They are human beings that are molding the lives of children. I have learned first hand that a teacher holds a sort of superpower, yet many teachers are not aware of this. They possess the power to make a difference in a childs life. Sadly, not all teachers feel the need to be that type of teacher. I had teachers who made my education harder but I also had these wonderful teachers who picked me up. They didn't befriend me or counsel me. They simply helped me learn despite the fact that I couldn't always be in their class. By stepping out of the box and accommodating my needs, by caring about the individual, they made a difference in my life.
I feel so fortunate that I had the chance to be a part of the tribute concert for my choir teacher. I know how big it is when someone gives you the smallest amount of their time when you are fighting an unbelievably hard battle. None of my teachers ever knew just how bad my condition was. Despite my crutches I was always the girl with a smile. It is amazing what a smile can hide. Pain, depression, isolation, fatigue, and a feeling that I didn't belong. High School was a horrible time of my life. My choir teacher provided a classroom that was a shining light in all that darkness. I was not surprised that so many of her old students came forward when they heard she was in need. We wanted to raise her spirits and raise some money to help her pay her medical expenses. Mostly, we all wanted a chance to tell her "Thank You" for making a difference in our lives. Honestly, I found the whole event awe inspiring! Imagine touching so many lives over decades of teaching and having those people come together to stand on a stage and sing for you. Phillipsburg is a small town and yet that night it felt like she had the love of the whole country singing for her. Many people couldn't be there but they sent their support. The response to her need was amazing. She is definitely a teacher worth her title.
Thank you Kathy Hartman!!!
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