I don’t know what writing this will prove or solve, but I wanted to share my thoughts on a former student of mine, Sharell Butler, who is now an alleged murderer.
I began my teaching career two years ago at PS/MS 194 in the Bronx as a 25-year-old white kid who grew up in the suburbs just outside Westchester and knew close to nothing about life in the Bronx ‘hoods. Sharell Butler was among the first group of students I ever worked with in this school, or anywhere for that matter. It was apparent, at least to me, early on in that school year that I was way out of my league teaching some of these students who clearly lived their lives much differently than I do mine. Sharell was one of the students whom I had the most difficulty keeping under control in my classroom, although we seemed to share an odd kind of mutual respect for one another. I can remember even requesting a meeting once with her and her father to convey to him myself the kind of foul language and behavior I had observed her using in my classroom.
Sharell was certainly wise beyond her years as a scrawny, lanky 13-year-old who was just growing into her young adult body. She was one of those kids who, despite often making poor behavioral decisions, had a genuinely mature and caring personality. She liked to show off in front of her friends and classmates (and teachers, I guess). I even remember one time she picked a fight with another tough eighth grade girl right outside my classroom door just so that she could cause a scene and have school safety agents restrain her. However, just seeing how smart she was, how good her work was, how she cared for her family and especially friends, allowed me to see through her tough exterior. I could tell she was different from most of the rest of the kids I worked with.
Sharell spent much of the first half of that year causing trouble and acting up. I should probably point out that three of her eighth grade teachers were brand new to the profession, one other was new to that school, and there were brand new school administrators that year as well. But I think what I will remember most about Sharell is the relationships that I saw her have with others. Back then, her boyfriend was one of the more popular and “charming” boys in her grade and everyone thought they were so cute together. She would ask to see my wedding picture and was inquisitive in a curious teenaged kind of way about my life outside of school. Unfortunately, a little more than half way through that year, Sharell transferred out of my school to go live with her older sister in hopes of changing her lifestyle some.
Sharell would come back and visit us at the school a few more times that year and even once or twice the next year. She always greeted me with lots of enthusiasm and what seemed to me to be gratitude for the months we shared as teacher and student. I still do not know how it happened so quickly that year, but she and I seemed to have built a bond and a great mutual respect for each other that I never thought would happen when I first met her. To me, Sharell is right at the top of a select list of students from that year who truly symbolize my transformation from an inexperienced, novice, “white bread” teacher to someone who has been hopefully molded into a capable teacher and role model. I can only hope that during those months she spent in my classroom I was able to provide her with the same kind of meaningful learning experience that she gave me.
If there is one thing I have tried so hard to do as a young teacher it is to always believe in and never give up on a student. I did not give up on Sharell when she was misbehaving in my class. Instead, I tried to help her by having her own up to her actions and understand the high expectations of which everyone desperately wanted her to live up to. I was even able to learn a lot from her through that course of disciplinary action. Therefore, I would consider it an even bigger crime for me to want to give up on her now. Far be it from me to pass judgment on her guilt or innocence. But let me conclude by saying that I find the need to believe in her now just as much, if not more, than I believed in her then.
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