Posted by: rocketbride | February 13, 2016


Last weekend a former student was shot at a nearby parking lot. Mason, who spent many years at Bat Masterson in and out of the behaviour support program, knew him quite well. I taught him one semester; if you expand the definition of “taught” to include mostly marking him absent and holding my temper with both hands whenever he graced us with his presence. To say that this kid was difficult seems disrespectful now, but the truth is that he excelled at manipulating relationships. Now that he’s dead at the age when I first met the Boy (in other words, in the dim mists of prehistory), I can’t help but regret how easily he kept me from caring about him.

We sometimes joke that a student will end up dead or in jail. It’s been 8 years since my first students went to jail (a string of gas station stickups) and now I have graduated to the next level of loss.

The funeral is on Friday, and it’s going to be awful. His friends all knew he was making bad decisions, and they warned him repeatedly. This funeral is going to be a monument to the theft of his potential. It’s going to suck.


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