Saying Goodbye

By Jeff Keay

Eric had a shock of bright red hair.  I first met him when he was in Kindergarten and I was his music teacher.  Eric was born to test a teacher’s patience. He couldn’t help himself. It was in his DNA.

 

A class with him would often sound like the following:

Me: “Make sure you don’t snap your Chinese Ribbons.”

Sound from Eric’s ribbon:  “Snap!”

Me: “Eric, give me your ribbon and take a time out.”

 

Me: “Don’t spin when doing this dance.”

Anna: “Mr. Keay, Eric is spinning.”

Me: “Eric, take a time out.”

 

He never argued or complained about the time outs but would simply walk over quietly, sit down, and watch the activity.  Of course, as soon as I let him back in he’d act up and I’d have to send him for another session in time out. I gave up giving him second chances.

I couldn’t help but like Eric.  A mean bone did not exist in his body.    When I had the class lined up after music Eric would talk to me about the things he was doing with his family and with his friends.  He loved his family and had many friends.

 

I had Eric again in first grade but he went to the upper elementary school for his second grade year.  I thought I’d never see Eric again. For my last year of teaching, however, I was assigned to the upper elementary school.  Eric was now in third grade but he hadn’t changed much, only his offenses. Instead of Chinese Ribbons we were using BoomWhackers, large hollow plastic tubes that when hit on the floor produce a musical pitch.

 

Me: “Only hit your BoomWhacker on its tip, and hit it gently on the floor.”

Sound from Eric’s BoomWhacker: “Wham!!!”

Me: “Eric, put away your BoomWhacker and go back to your seat.”

 

After music, on the last day I had Eric’s class, I talked to Eric while they were lining up.  “You know Eric; we’ve been together for a long time.” “You’re right Mr. Keay”, said Eric, “We’ve known each other since I was in Kindergarten.”

 

I saw Eric’s teacher shortly after class.  “Jeff, I wanted to tell you; when they returned from music class Eric came right over to me and said, ‘I really like Mr. Keay.  He’s a nice guy.’”

 

I got a call on my classroom phone early the next morning.  It was Eric’s teacher. “Eric wants to come down and see you.  He’s very upset.” Eric came into my room a few minutes later. He was crying.  He came over and handed me a homemade card. It read, “I’ll miss you Mr. Keay. Love, Eric.”

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