One of Those Mornings
It has been just over three years since Todd Stoops died following an automobile accident. I was sitting at Starbucks on the evening of February 21, 2003 when I got the call. Ashley was one of the first students to call me. The calls kept coming that evening. Students wanted to know how I was doing, but I was more concerned about them. It had been the hardest weeks in many of their young lives, and honestly it was one of the toughest weeks that I had ever endured. I wasn't good with showing my emotion to others, and I definitely wasn't comfortable with tears, but more than that I didn't want Todd to be gone.
I still think of Todd often, especially when I get into a car and lazily choose not to fasten my seat belt. Thank goodness Judy the Jeep makes me, or else she beeps incessantly. I think of his wonderful life and the senseless loss and I think of what Todd's mother told us when we asked what we could do to help: Tell the kids to wear their seatbelts, she said.
I don't hear from my students often, it's always nice when I do. Honestly, sometimes I just pretend that Todd is gone at college, busily pursuing his life like the others and that I'll hear from him or about him someday. Then there are other times when I am reminded that he is gone. This morning is one of those mornings...
The following column appeared in the SPARK, the award-winning Lakota East High School newsmagazine, a few weeks following his death. It was an honor to be asked to write this:
Students come and go from my classroom quite frequently, but no one has ever left quite like Todd Stoops.
The first day he entered my room he was merely a name on a list of 30 others in my English 111 class, but he didn’t stay just a name for long. In a matter of days I knew him quite well and would often say his name when he wandered in late, talked to his buddy Evan while I was teaching, or tried to get off easy on an assignment.
Those were not the only reasons that I quickly became familiar with the name Todd Stoops. I knew that I could look to him to add to a classroom lecture, always perfectly complementing my discussion. I found that if I needed a favor, Todd was always willing to help and was someone in whom I could trust.
As I got to know him better, one of my favorite things about him was that if I needed a little comic relief, I could always count on Todd for a good laugh. He could always take an occasional jab as much as I could handle a good bald joke.
It didn’t take me long to figure that it was never Todd’s style to be just an acquaintance to others. There was something magnetic about him that rapidly drew others to his presence. I was sure of this as I watched hundreds of friends and loved ones grieve over his sudden death. It was amazing to see that someone so young had become a part of so many lives.
Of course a person couldn’t help but like Todd. I found myself quickly drawn to him as I got to know him better. It is not often that teachers are able to build a friendship with a student; in fact it doesn’t happen enough. While it is something we teachers often strive for, there is never enough time to truly allow it to happen. In hindsight I am very thankful that I took some time from my planning and grading to invest in Todd.
This year he became a member of the yearbook staff and also served as my student aide. While this meant twice as many bald jokes a day, it also gave me the opportunity to spend more time with him. I learned a lot from our interactions. He taught me how to guess a person’s age, weight, or birthday and even the tricks of sorting fish from the part-time jobs he held. He introduced me to the bands Incubus, Coldplay, and Fuel. He made me a CD of their music and titled it “McGarvey’s Mega Mix.” He would often inform me of what was and wasn’t cool to do, and at times he would even share things with me that I didn’t want to know. He would just laugh at me as I shook my head at him.
Then there were the more important things I learned from Todd. He taught me to laugh more often and to strive to have fun with the things you do, like the time I caught him teaching break dance moves to his fellow yearbook staffers at deadline time. I now find myself occasionally being silly when I shouldn’t. From day to day I try a little bit harder to reach out to my students, just as I did with Todd. Sometimes we would share our problems with one another and believe it or not, it was nice to have a student to lean on. Through Todd’s tragic death I have thought about my own mortality, just as many students said they now consider theirs. It is so important to appreciate each and every day we are given. But one of the biggest lessons I learned from Todd happened the morning after I heard about his accident. I buckled my seat belt, which is something that I never did on a regular basis and I haven’t stopped doing it since.
Todd Stoop’s presence is greatly missed in both my classroom and my life. I don’t think he had any aspirations of becoming an educator, but looking back I learned a lot from him. It was an honor to have him as such a great teacher.
I still think of Todd often, especially when I get into a car and lazily choose not to fasten my seat belt. Thank goodness Judy the Jeep makes me, or else she beeps incessantly. I think of his wonderful life and the senseless loss and I think of what Todd's mother told us when we asked what we could do to help: Tell the kids to wear their seatbelts, she said.
I don't hear from my students often, it's always nice when I do. Honestly, sometimes I just pretend that Todd is gone at college, busily pursuing his life like the others and that I'll hear from him or about him someday. Then there are other times when I am reminded that he is gone. This morning is one of those mornings...
The following column appeared in the SPARK, the award-winning Lakota East High School newsmagazine, a few weeks following his death. It was an honor to be asked to write this:
Students come and go from my classroom quite frequently, but no one has ever left quite like Todd Stoops.
The first day he entered my room he was merely a name on a list of 30 others in my English 111 class, but he didn’t stay just a name for long. In a matter of days I knew him quite well and would often say his name when he wandered in late, talked to his buddy Evan while I was teaching, or tried to get off easy on an assignment.
Those were not the only reasons that I quickly became familiar with the name Todd Stoops. I knew that I could look to him to add to a classroom lecture, always perfectly complementing my discussion. I found that if I needed a favor, Todd was always willing to help and was someone in whom I could trust.
As I got to know him better, one of my favorite things about him was that if I needed a little comic relief, I could always count on Todd for a good laugh. He could always take an occasional jab as much as I could handle a good bald joke.
It didn’t take me long to figure that it was never Todd’s style to be just an acquaintance to others. There was something magnetic about him that rapidly drew others to his presence. I was sure of this as I watched hundreds of friends and loved ones grieve over his sudden death. It was amazing to see that someone so young had become a part of so many lives.
Of course a person couldn’t help but like Todd. I found myself quickly drawn to him as I got to know him better. It is not often that teachers are able to build a friendship with a student; in fact it doesn’t happen enough. While it is something we teachers often strive for, there is never enough time to truly allow it to happen. In hindsight I am very thankful that I took some time from my planning and grading to invest in Todd.
This year he became a member of the yearbook staff and also served as my student aide. While this meant twice as many bald jokes a day, it also gave me the opportunity to spend more time with him. I learned a lot from our interactions. He taught me how to guess a person’s age, weight, or birthday and even the tricks of sorting fish from the part-time jobs he held. He introduced me to the bands Incubus, Coldplay, and Fuel. He made me a CD of their music and titled it “McGarvey’s Mega Mix.” He would often inform me of what was and wasn’t cool to do, and at times he would even share things with me that I didn’t want to know. He would just laugh at me as I shook my head at him.
Then there were the more important things I learned from Todd. He taught me to laugh more often and to strive to have fun with the things you do, like the time I caught him teaching break dance moves to his fellow yearbook staffers at deadline time. I now find myself occasionally being silly when I shouldn’t. From day to day I try a little bit harder to reach out to my students, just as I did with Todd. Sometimes we would share our problems with one another and believe it or not, it was nice to have a student to lean on. Through Todd’s tragic death I have thought about my own mortality, just as many students said they now consider theirs. It is so important to appreciate each and every day we are given. But one of the biggest lessons I learned from Todd happened the morning after I heard about his accident. I buckled my seat belt, which is something that I never did on a regular basis and I haven’t stopped doing it since.
Todd Stoop’s presence is greatly missed in both my classroom and my life. I don’t think he had any aspirations of becoming an educator, but looking back I learned a lot from him. It was an honor to have him as such a great teacher.
posted by dmcg at 9:07 AM
1 Comments:
I've read this over a couple of times and like it. I've not had that many close deaths around me. But, in counting friends, which is how I think you consider Todd, I also lost a very good friend in 2003. Before that, it was all the way back to 1983 when both you and I were in High School when someone close to me died. It doesn't get any easier, we just get to honor people's memories.
I'd love to read more of your writings. When will you be posting more? Of course, the offer to read any of my writing still stands. I'm always looking for a good editor. Take care my friend.
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