Born: June 9, 1972
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October 14, 2003 at 9:47 pm
Impending despair...
Ok, ok, ok… It’s not that bad. But, this is my last week at Ozanam, and I can just sense it coming on.
See, last Friday, I told my class that I was leaving. In their typical, high school response, they all brished it off at first. Then, during the day, a few of them came to me individually, and let me know (in their more individual and special ways) that they were saddened by the news and would miss me.
Monday was a little more difficult. I told a few of the younger classrooms. The first time I ever subbed at Ozanam, I was put in the third and fourth grade classroom. Then, after being hired as a full-time employee, I would always make it a point to connect with all of the younger kids in our school (high school can get tedious after a while!). We have a special relationship, those younger kids and I. They like me. They think I’m fun. Go figure. Last year, one girl even told me that she wished that I was her daddy. I couldn’t do that for her, but I understood. I hung out with her all day once on a field trip that we went on. So, Monday, I told the younger classes that this was my last week and I barely made it out alive.
First, I told the third and fourth graders. They were sad, but mostly ok with it. They all wanted to hug me. I felt emotional, but not yet confronted with anything like…tears.
Then, I was on to the fifth and sixth graders. They were the first kids I had worked with a couple of years ago (when they were third-graders). They tried to be mature about it. They tried to take my news in stride. One of them, after I told them about my new job as a graphic designer, said, “So, you’re going to have a kids job? I mean, you do get to draw all day, right?” I smiled big and told him he was correct. I wanted to hug them all, but they were too old for that now. They were my first. Wow.
The last one I could bear for the day (I still haven’t told the seventh through ninth graders and I don’t know if I will until the last day), the kindergarten through second grade class, was, by far, the worse. Man. The moment I told them, their little lower lips dropped. They weren’t happy and they didn’t try to hide it. (They don’t know how to hide this kind of stuff.) I tried to keep my exposure the best I could and as soon as I had a chance, I quickly left the room. The tears were there, hovering right behind my corneas, but I don’t think anyone saw. I had no idea what would happen later.
Later. It was probably 1:00pm. Ms. B (the Primary 1 teacher) from the room that I just mentioned brought one of her first-grade girls in to see me. I admit that she is my favorite — the one who wanted to call me “daddy” last year. We are good buds. I’ll call her “C” for now. Ms. B stood by the door as C approached me. She was sad. I asked her if she wanted to sit next to me and she did.
“C” looked at me from the chair that I pulled up for her and asked, “Mr. Samoff?”
“Yeah, ‘C’?” I replied.
“Mr. Samoff, “ she said. “I couldn’t finish my lunch today.”
Oh, no, I thought, I told them that I was leaving right before lunch! “I’m sorry, ‘C,’” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
She just kind of sat there for a second, looking as if she were going to cry. Then she looked up and smiled (as little kids can do). “I was sitting in class and I just started crying,” said “C.” “I didn’t know why I was crying, but I was. Then, Ms. B asked what was wrong and I said, ‘I’m hungry. Why didn’t we eat yet?’ I forgot that we already got lunch! So, Ms. B let me eat half of her lunch!”
I just kind of watched and listened. “C” was on a roll.
“Mr. Samoff,” she said again. “Can you send me a picture of you?”
I was floored. I didn’t even know if I had the capacity of speech anymore.
But, I did have my camera with me and I asked “C” if she wanted a picture of her and me together. She did.
I will send it to her.
This coming Friday is going to be hard.
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