Dare

Dare Johnson was a student in my American History class during my third year teaching. Dare was a friendly girl and one that I knew outside of school. As her youth pastor, I had gotten to know her well. Dare was not athletic and not a top academic student, but was one that everyone seemed to like because she liked everybody. Born to hippie parents, her first name was Sunny. And while she went by Dare, I always thought that Sunny fit her personality better. Her first car even had two sunroofs so that "she could see more of the sun." 

One week, I had been on her to complete some makeup work that was hurting her grade pretty bad. Dare was that kind of student. I was out of work for some reason one day and received a call that  Dare had passed away in a car accident that afternoon. That evening I called several members of our class and of the youth group. I remember sitting up that evening writing out what I thought I should say to our first-period class the next morning. I got to school extra early to talk with our counselor and went over what I was going to tell the class. When I entered the room, the very first thing I saw was a stack of papers and a workbook laying on my back table with a note from Dare. She had left me all of her makeup work. 

When class started that morning, my notes were quickly forgotten. I stood in front of the class and cried. I laughed and cried as I told them all about a ski trip that we had taken that winter with our youth group and how miserably bad Dare had been as a skier. Her fluorescent coat could be seen rolling down the slopes all day. All I knew to do was to celebrate what we loved about her and to show my students that it was ok to be upset about our loss. 

Since that year, I have unfortunately lost several students and it never gets any easier to deal with. As an educator, you sometimes invest more time into some students than you do your own families. Those that usually get the most time are the ones with the biggest needs. They have academic or social behaviors that require special attention. When those students are lost, you often feel it on a personal level. 

The loss of TyMear Dodd rang true on all of these feelings. TyMear was not a student that we will remember for his academic or athletic contributions, but he is someone that his teachers knew for his ability to make things right when he had done wrong and how he checked in on those that he cared for often. He was one of the students that needed extra time and attention, but in giving that, you somehow understood him better. And if there is anything that we all should learn from him, it's that we do care for one another. None of us is a perfect member of our school community, but our attachments to one another are not based on our shortcomings. Instead, we are linked by what we give to each other.