The bell rang on the last day. It was so hot that the floor wax clouded over and the desks were sweating nearly as much as the students. With summer finally waiting right outside the exits, I wondered why he'd stayed after all the others had bolted from the dingy yellow room.

Chez was athletic, smart, and talented, but sometimes disengaged ...as some kids are when they seem not to want to draw attention to the fact that they are smart, talented and capable. I noticed his presence, but quietly worked to stack piles of limp drawings and essay papers as I wondered just how many hours or days it would be until my summer could begin. When I looked up, he was standing near the doorframe just watching. Slowly he cleared his throat and tilted his head a bit, regarding me seriously. "Hey! I hear'd you'r leavin' and going to the Catholic school to teach. Z'at true?"

"Yes, Charles, it is true."

"It's becuz of us nasty ghetto kids izn't it?"

"No, Charles. For the record, you are not nasty, you are my art student and a really good one. My kids are my kids, no matter where they come from. I'm leaving because of adult decisions, not because of any of my kids. You know I love teaching art and I love working with high school kids. We learn from one another every year.  

"But next year, classes will be huge with eight to ten more students every hour. If I stayed I could only reach half of you every other day. If any of you had a problem or was hurting or going through something awful, I might not notice. Maybe it seems wrong, or cowardly, but it breaks my heart to think I might be one more adult who doesn't see a student who needs help-in the class or in their life. I don't think I could leave at night without feeling like a failure...and I don't want to fail my students, or become ineffective or cynical. I've loved teaching too long and too well to do it poorly. I hope that makes sense to you, and I hope you know I will always want to hear about your successes."

Then it was my turn to stare down at the foggy ancient tile.  

"You're cool, Miz Pelley. I could never be a teacher, but you're a real good one. I'll miss you." He was smiling a huge toothy grin that brightened my mood and seemed to make the lemony walls glow.

I walked over toward him and extended my hand, "I'm going to miss you too, Chez. You'll always be my student and I'll never forget you." And then I waited.

Charles lowered his head, and shook it slowly. "Naaah, Miz Pelley...A handshake jus' won't cut it.  Now,  I'm gonna hug you, k?"  

What followed was a long monster-sized hug, from a kid who began the year thinking I had nothing to give him. At the time, I wondered if we would ever reach detente. But slowly and gratefully, things changed. I don't remember when he began laughing at things I said. ...or when he started to share things about his personal life- his dad, his mom's death, his exgirlfriend, his singing and dancing gigs. I don't recall when he realized that I could nail him for having his cell phone out even while teaching someone else half a room away...or when he figured out that I actually do have incredible hearing and can decipher soft whispers of obscene or racist comments from another room...or at least from a good distance. He came to understand that I would be in his face when he was wrong and have his back when he was right. Chez reminded me, through the course of a difficult year, that the things that work for me in a classroom are still valuable and still effective. One on one, press the flesh every day, personal interaction works... as does caring desperately.

Soon my co-worker appeared out of the office with a cold soda for me. "Was that Chez?? Did he actually hug you?"  I nodded silently. "Wow!" she said, "Who knew? How about that??"

"Yeah. How about that, indeed." I drank the soda quietly...back to the office...with tears streaming down my cheeks. I left after dark.  

Now it's a new school year and I have a "new" school home six miles from the inner-city high school where I spent the last six years. For many reasons, the move is a good one for me. It's a place that empowers me to teach as it blends seamlessly with my philosophy of reaching every kid every day. My largest class has 23 students rather than 33, and although I have six classes instead of five, I have fifty fewer kids than I would have had I chosen to stay. My new students are adapting to me, and I to them. I expect to face challenges, yet I still enjoy working hard, learning and growing in my practice-yes, even as I enter my fortieth year of teaching. I left the public schools because I wanted to face surmountable issues with my kids in my room armed by the style and method that has served me well...and I wanted to continue to love this work that I believe I was born to do.

Although I left the school where Chez is now finishing his senior year, he and countless others will never leave me. I think of my "kids" each day and carry their stories in my mind and heart.