Seen

It’s mid-afternoon on the last day before Summer vacation, so I make sure class doesn't start until I see every last one of my students. I close the door and zoom around the room, doling out high-fives, fist-bumps, and, "Hey, you okay? Something bothering you today?"  I offer up a “way-to-go,” a “proud-of-you,” and "See? I told you so."

Only then does everybody get my, “Alright seniors, let’s get ready. On the other side of this test is the rest of your life. Now, clear your desk for your final, final exam.” I reach for the scantrons just as the phone rings. 

By now I'm used to a dramatically-timed classroom interruption, and I can guess what this one’s about. It’s got to be the front office berating me for forgetting to take roll. Attendance just so often slips my mind because I hate checking names like I'm counting cattle. Instead, I spend the first part of class checking in, extending my attention to as many as I can, marking them by being present and acknowledging their existence beyond a checkmark on a clipboard. Because at the end of the day, every student, at minimum, just deserves to be seen. 

I prepare to lift the phone from the dock like it's a bomb about to explode as I brace to absorb another lecture on the importance of taking timely attendance while I strategize how to hang up as quickly as I can, "Hello?" 

“Hey, try to keep this between us.” It's my principal's voice, hushed. “Go ahead and exempt Gerardo from the final, he won’t be taking it.”

Gerardo? Gerardo. Right, I know Gerardo. He's the quiet kid who sits in the back. His favorite movie's Captain America. He's a sneakerhead, and he's saving up for a Toyota Tacoma. I scan the room but only find his empty seat.

I hadn’t noticed he was missing today. In fact, I was about to count him present. 

I lift the phone back. “Wait, Gerardo’s not in class. If he misses the exam, how does he pass?”

“We honor his memory.”

I struggle to stay standing as I learn details I didn't know to ask for. I thought I knew Gerardo, sure, but I didn’t know everything. 

I hang up the phone and turn back to the class all staring, still waiting for me to pass them their final, final exams. 

All I see is the empty seat.