01 July, 2011


I have been on school holidays for nearly a week now and am enjoying the simple pleasures of being at home to get the normal jobs done. Jobs that often go un-done during term time. Yesterday I cleaned out the chicken coop and put down fresh straw and lifted the nesting box up off the ground so I don't need to kneel in chicken poop to collect the eggs.

 Amidst my enjoyment of the simple things I received some very sad news, an 8 year old darling that I taught 18 months ago and who I was looking forward to teaching again when she reached year 4, passed away. For those of you who don't know, I teach children with disabilities. This particular child was devine, there are no other words. She was deprived of oxygen at birth due to the umbilical cord being wrapped around her neck and was diagnosed with cerabal palsy. Her gorgeous family always ensured that she was included, loved and cherished by all those around her. In the last week of term she was rushed to hospital with a serious chest infection, but she fought hard and it seemed she was recovering well and we assumed she would be back at school next term. On Wednesday she took a turn for the worst and early yesterday this beautiful child lost her fight for survival. A thing such as this, a child passing away so young, rocked me to my core. My heart goes out to her family and friends and I feel spoilt by all the blessings in my life.

Yesterday the news of her passing marred the beauty of the day, the precious hours I spent with my dear friend and I lost the pleasure I'd found during the morning. Today it occurs to me that the celebration should be that she lived, that I had the opportunity to teach and learn from her and that I should be living each day to its fullest, not hiding away. Yes I can be sad for her family, sad that we won't see that lovely face at school, but I know that she is at peace and I can celebrate the impact she has had on me as a person and as a teacher.

Emily xoxo

1 comment:

  1. I just found your blog. Hello! I am so sorry you lost a student. As a former teacher, I know how hard it is. I look forward to following your journey.