Finding Meaning in 8th Grade
This week I started eighth grade. Well, technically it’s my second go at it. A year ago I was starting my job as a sixth and seventh grade English-Language Arts teacher. Was it great fun teaching this with the 6-7 trend going on? No. No, it was not. This may have been a small part of why I was so excited to receive the gift of teaching 8th grade Social Studies and ELA this year.
Although my degree is in U.S. History, I have never been able to formally teach it until now. And I am so very excited. Except there is a part of that’s wondering what this year is going to be like for me.
The middle school years were hard for me, especially 8th grade. No one had had “The Talk” with me, so I was left to figure out my period and all that came with it on my own. (FYI, I didn’t do very well with that.) The middle schools and high schools in our district were newly consolidated, which meant three times the students in my grade. Then, that summer, my mom endured two brain surgeries. I honestly don’t remember the timeline of it all. Regardless of the details I can or cannot remember, over the fall, I remember watching Mom decline until, on December 5, she passed away.
That year was rough, to say the least. It’s also why I became a middle school teacher.
The overwhelming feeling I have from that time is of being alone a lot. Friends weren’t exactly sure what to do with a classmate whose mom died. My family was overwhelmed with their own grief and taking care of my 3-year old sister. Teachers were busy trying to figure out the new school and students. I was, and will always be, thankful to my seventh grade and high school band teacher, Bob Medworth, who made sure I knew his office was open for me anytime I needed to step away.
For everyone who wondered how I was doing, on the outside, I looked fine. My grades didn’t slip. I didn’t act out. I didn’t get in trouble. I remember those days as keeping on as if nothing had happened.
But, something had happened. My mom died. And, I didn’t know what to do with it.
******************
When someone we love dies, we are left to figure out what to do “with it.” We ask a lot of questions. We wonder how we can keep our person alive, even though they are no longer here with us. We seek a purpose for keeping on. David Kessler, an author, speaker, and death expert, calls this “Finding Meaning.” In an article found here, Kessler describes this part of the grief process:
“It’s not about finding meaning in the death – there is no meaning there. What it’s about is finding meaning in the dead person’s life, in how knowing them shaped us, maybe in how the way they died can help us to make the world safer for others … It’s how those who are left can fold the existence of the lost individual into their lives, how they can allow it to change them, and how they can behave in response to it.”
When I was in high school and college, I found meaning in being a faithful follower of Christ so I could be with Mom with I died. During my years of “formal” ministry, I found meaning by seeking to make space for everyone came through my door. As a middle school teacher, I work every day to make my room a safe space where students feel like they belong and where someone cares about them. It is incredibly important to me that the students, who are carrying more than they will ever show on the outside, know that they are noticed and cared about.
If you are carrying grief, you are likely also seeking ways to stay connected with your person and to make make meaning out of their death. David Kessler’s words may be speaking to your heart and to a desire you have to do something with your grief. If you are wondering what it might be, remember that meaning making doesn’t have to be big. It’s made when we pass on their words of wisdom to others. It’s made when we create and pass on their favorite recipes. It’s given to others when we smile at retail workers because our person was one. It’s continued in the experiences and memories we make with others. I’m convinced that making meaning is likely found in choices we make each day.
**********************
To be honest, I’m already dreading December this year. I have a feeling Mom’s death is going to hit me a little extra. But, that’s ok. It’s all part of the grieving process. It’s all part of the connection I continue to feel with her. My plan right now is to love on my students a little more. I think Mom would approve of that.
May God’s arms continue to surround you and hold you close as you walk these days.
Peace,
Denise
