3 Little Words

Some words are benign enough, it is....It. A non-specific pronoun.  Is. A form of the verb to be.  But put them together and add one more word, and you have a sentence. In the case of news delivered by my husband's doctor, the sentence sucked the air out of the room, my ears stopped working and I think maybe even my heart stopped pumping blood through my body for a half second when he spoke those words, "It is cancer."  Those simple little two words, matched with the most malignant, changed my life. Forever.

That was just over two years ago that I heard those words, such a short time, yet a lifetime.

Thinking about those three words, made me wonder about other times when just three words had changed my life so much. Some were hard to hear, others filled my heart with wonder and joy. All have brought me to this day.

Congratulations on Graduating I thought that meant I was done with school, though later I returned to earn two masters degrees, but it did mean it was time to get serious, be an adult, get a real job. And I did. I had a successful career, traveling the world, earning obscene amounts of money and always serious, saving for retirement.  

I love you The most precious words ever heard. Whether from a parent, a friend, a lover or a child, nothing changes a mood faster that hearing those words.  I remember once, almost 30 years ago, after a particularly bad day at work, stopping by my parents' house on my way home from work. As I climbed back into my car, my four year old niece, who'd been in the back playing, ran to the front porch and yelled at the top of her lungs, I love you! My whole day brightened at the sound of those words.

Be my wife At 37 I'd pretty much given up on the idea of marriage, yet it was a pleasant surprise to be proposed to by a man I really did love and want to spend the rest of my life with. I had no idea I would only get to spend the rest of his life with him.

Good Morning, Teacher After 20 years in high tech, I retired the day before my 40th birthday. After messing around for a few years, I decided to use my experience and passion to teach children. That first day in my own classroom started changes to my life in ways I'd never dreamed. I've never regretted the decision. I still love hearing those words!  

What three words changed your life?

The Most Important Lesson They'll Learn All Year

After two months out of the classroom, I returned to my thirty-six fifth graders this past week.  Just eleven months ago my husband, Jim, was diagnosed with stage IV cancer.  He died February 19, 2014 at just 53 years old.  Half of my students were looped, and they knew last spring that 'Mr. McConnell was very ill' and that I was taking off a few days a week through the end of the school year to help him 'get well'.  What they didn't know was that he had cancer, and during the spring he had three surgeries and almost lost his life twice. 

Over the summer and after radiation, his health stabilized and the new school year started with more of a routine.  I was out every third Friday for our chemotherapy appointments.  I was able to get the same sub, Mr. Ma who grew to know them and their routine.  Over Thanksgiving break, my husband Jim's health took a turn for the worse and it was time to explain more about my absences to my students and their parents.

I really did not intend to tell them that day.  The kids were making a joke about all the coughing that was going on in the classroom during this particularly bad flu season, and I just lost it.  I'd been worried all year about bringing germs home to my immune compromised husband, and here these 10 year old were joking about it.  I just started crying in frustration, exhaustion and sadness.  So I told them.  With tears, they listened to my fifth grade version of our story.  

Over Christmas break Jim went back in the hospital with extreme difficulty breathing.  I joked how considerate it was of him to be hospitalized again during my time off school.  He was put on oxygen and we returned home, just in time for me to go back to school.  The students often asked about him, especially after I'd missed a day of class.  Some expressed hopes that he would 'get well soon', though I knew in my heart that was not likely to happen.

In the beginning of February, Jim was diagnosed with two extremely nasty opportunistic infections which required IV antibiotics every four hours. I had to take more time off as he was hospitalized and I learned how to administer at home injections.  The week before our 'ski week' break, I was only at school one day.  True to his form, Jim was admitted to the hospital just two days before the break and he died the Wednesday of ski week, while the kids were on vacation.

Upon their return to school, our principal informed my students of my loss.  They sent cards and a poster, 'Get well soon, we miss you'. Some of their parents attended Jim's memorial service.   +Kristi Schwiebert  is a mentor and friend of mine and her son has been in my class for two years now.  She asked him if he wanted to come to Mr. McConnell's service.  Kristi's son echoed the fears of many of my kids when he said, "No, I don't want to see Mrs. McConnell so sad." His words touched my heart.

My students were typical kids and were not very well behaved for my long term sub. Fortunately, I teach with some amazing colleagues who helped her through it.  After about a month I decided to come back on April 2,  45 days after Jim's death.  There is no right time and it would never be easy. But I had a strategy. I'd come back on a Wednesday, a short day, three days before spring break, to ease me and my kids into it.  I contacted The Center for Living with Dying to get some ideas for activities to help my students process our shared grief.  I contacted our staff and let them know how fragile I was and to not look at me with those sad, I'm sorry eyes before I had to see my kids in the morning.

And so, armed with grief management activities, the love and support of my co-workers and morning meditation, I returned to class.  The kids were peeking in the small door window that morning before class.  I knew they'd wondered, 'would I act the same? Would I look the same? Would I be the same?'  I wanted to be the same fun Mrs. McConnell they knew and loved, but how could I be? I was barely breathing I was so sad.  But then I saw their joy at my return and it was infectious. We had a group hug, all 36 of them! I was surrounded by love and hugs and happiness.  

We did our grief processing with some tears, theirs not mine.  I held it together until the end of the day when I was sharing with them how hard it was for me to come back, but how easy they made it.  Then I cried, just a little.  But I think it was good for them to see my emotion.  By Friday they were up to their old shenanigans and as 10 year olds will, they've moved on.  Inside, I am still incredibly sad, but they've taught me an important lesson.  Life does go on.

The Most Important Lesson I'll Teach All Year is not how to do a prime factorization, how to use figurative language in your writing or the causes of the American Revolution.  Yes, I will teach these things but these are not the things they will remember.  They will remember that their 5th grade teacher's husband died in the middle of the year.  They will remember that I missed almost a quarter of the school year.  But more, they will remember that I came back.  That I came back to them.  They know that my family, my husband, was most important. They knew that I was where I needed to be to care for him, and to grieve him.  But they knew I came back. To teach them. They know that they have value, that they are important to me. They learned about loss and grief and resilience and compassion.  They learned that love is what gets us through.