new job

i remember walking into the room. you were sitting at a table, peacefully. the rest of the room was wild - i was overwhelmed myself. i was the new kid. the insecurities came rushing back to me - are my clothes okay? how does my hair look? are they going to like me? am i going to make friends? you were sitting there with your hands folded - you seemed safe. i sat down across from you. your finger nail paint was chipped - it made me happy to see that someone had taken the time to pain your nails. i asked you about them. you told me your mom had painted them. and then you told me my hair was nappy and that i needed to brush it.

i started a new job on monday. and i think i like it. but i find myself missing the kids at the hill house more than ever. i can't seem to get ty'asia thomas out of my mind. i can't seem to get rid of her face when i wake up, go to work, drive home and go to sleep. i guess i just miss her. and i miss that job. it seems like nothing will ever really replace it. i was young, too young, to be doing my job. i was often overwhelmed, and always underpaid, but appreciated and loved by the kids, their parents, my boss and the people who worked for me. i think about mr. fred and ms. marcia - they were my team. both older than me by at least 30 years. i'm learning how rare it is in the education field to actually work with people who really, really love kids. i remember us sitting together and crying when we'd find out that another one of our kids was beat so bad they couldn't come to school, i remember mr. fred bringing in coats he got at the salvation army for our kids - and he even got one for me, a nice one, for when i started student teaching, i remember sitting with ms. marcia and she'd talk, and i'd listen. i remember stuffing the extra snacks and food and drinks into our kids backpacks so that we knew they'd have dinner. i remember going to the swimming pool with them and playing for hours.

and i remember ty'asia. her infectious kindness. her unwavering loyalty. i asked her one time if she remembered the first thing she said to me. she said, "that you were beautiful?" and i said, "no, you told me my hair was nappy." she apologized. when i told her i was leaving the job to start student teaching, she cried a lot. i asked her what i'd taught her - "that i'm beautiful, and nice, and smart and that i'm going to be something good." and so we cried together. over that year, i'd fallen in love with so many of those kids - and their names are written on my heart. nancy jackson, david bell, timothy walls, demar and jamar, dj, mya grant, keith harris, kiera garner, martel hedge, samual foster, nina & naomi, keyshawn and over so many other years more names have been written - kenny, quentin, kashawn davis, d'eondre stewart, dolly, francis.

my favorite part of the day was always driving them to their homes in the projects. i liked knowing they were safe. i liked talking to them in the van. on my last day, i made sure to drop ty'asia off last. she lived on chauncey court. i pulled up to her building. her christmas lights were shining. she was wearing the new blue coat we got for her at the salvation army. she was chubby, so the coat hardly zipped up. when we first gave her the coat, she started jumping up and down screaming because she was so happy. i remember watching her back as she walked away. her backpack, her coat, her little beads - and i remember her stopping. with the sort of purpose, and almost shock that i thought something was wrong. she turned around and looked at me and screamed, "miss laura!" and i was worried, "ty'asia, what is it? is everything okay?" and she looked at me, and paused, "thank you." and then she turned around and ran inside.

i drove home in the dark. the snow was coming. the black birds flew over my head as i crossed the bloomfield bridge.