The end is near

May has arrived. We have some 30 odd days left. The weeks go by at a snail's pace. I teach, going through the motions which come more easily to me now. Yell at kid for eating slim jims in class here, explain concept about global warming there, give teacher look every 10 minutes to kids in the back to shut them up. On the bright side, the kids are still much better than last year; I still get moments of silence every so often. Unfortunately, they also know a little bit more about me. One stray letter envelope revealed my middle name to one particular ragamuffin who cast a glance. And now my students have not let me forget it. I was absent the other day and when I came back I found my full name (first, middle, and last) sprawled against my whiteboard in black marker. The moment they find something they can use against you they are merciless. I cursed the kid who started this outbreak under my breath and set my mind to teaching for the day.

In spite of all the pains and aches I've gone through, there are moments where I get the feeling that I will miss teaching next year.

It is the last period of the day. I scan the room wearily looking for students off task. My eyes lock onto "Jason", who is aiding and abetting several other students in distracting themselves from completing their assignments. Jason is the class clown, with a mouth that does not know how to shut up. I glare at him as I walk over ominously. He meets my stare with a bright smile.

"Misterteacher, we have a basketball game today against [rival school]. I see other teachers at games, but I never see you. You should come."

"Uhh... [I haven't eaten lunch at this point and feel a bit hungry] I'll get back to you. Maybe I'll come."

I really don't want to go. I'm a bit shy and don't want to go somewhere where I feel like I'll be vulnerable to the insults of students in the crowd who hate me.

I have to take care of physical needs first. When school ends, I go off to the local dumpling place and grab my lunch. I try to forget the invitation, but I can't shake it off.

If I go, I'll be supporting my students on the team. If I go, I might find myself in an unfamiliar crowd. If I don't go, I'll feel guilty snubbing Jason. If I don't go, I can grade some more papers or at least vegetate on the computer.

I come back to school. I tread slowly, my feet dead like lead weights. I force myself to the gym. I see a colleague and walk on over to our school's cheering section. I sit down and watch the game. The game has stopped due to a time-out. I look for Jason among the uniforms.

Jason is on the bench. He glances over meeting my eyes. A hint of recognition flashes in him.

"MISTERTEACHER!" Jason shoots out. He comes over to me with a big grin and gives me a handshake.

I smile sheepishly. Jason walks back and the game resumes.

Our team is blowing out the rival team. The upperclassmen are scoring on an array of layups and jumpshots. Their defense is stingy, yielding few points to the opponent, and capitalizing on steals and blocks to score on fast-breaks the other way. With victory in sight, the coach decides to put in the freshmen.

The freshmen are awful. Their handles are sloppy and their shots are ugly. Thank goodness that the upperclassmen were so good to give us a cushion. Jason goes in and immediately gets his pass stolen within a minute. In his next possession, he shoots an airball.

It's hard to watch.

Jason gets the ball again. Not one to be cowed, he hoists up a three-pointer. Miraculously, it swishes in. We erupt in cheers. He does a little dance to indulge himself and the crowd. Personally, I think he should go back to playing defense because his team is playing 4 on 5.

The next time-out is called. Jason comes over to me and says, "That was for you, Misterteacher."

My face reveals an involuntarily smile. I point at him with my two index fingers.

He points back at me. At that moment, I feel my cheeks go warm. I guess I am feeling really proud of Jason. I also am proud of my other students in the game, Jeremy and Leon.

I'm glad that I went to the game. Later in the month they make it to the championship game and I attend. I cheer them on even though they lose.

Upon reflection, what I appreciate was how Jason was able to break through my maladjusted, unfeeling crust and draw out the old Misterteacher, the one with hopes and dreams, reminding me why I went into teaching into first place. And I'll never forget that. Thanks to an innocuous invite from Jason.