We're finishing Night
First hour--The class finishes today's reading on their own and on the way to turn in his book, the biggest gangsta in the class walks to hand his in while he's reading. He's walking slowly, almost reverently, to the front of the room where he quietly reads, slowly closes his book, and stands there just a second, as if to take in what he's read.
Fourth hour--They're slightly ahead today, so we'll be reading the passage where Wiesel loses his father. I'm reading aloud. I'm absorbed in reading about the disentary, absorbed in reading about a son staying at his father's side, and by the time Eliezer wakes to find another prisoner in his father's bed, I'm choking on my tears. I see everyones eyes pop up from their books, one by one wondering if it's ok to see their teacher cry, and as I pause to compose and move on, the biggest smartie pants I have picks up with the reading. We finish the book and the class is silent.
At the end of the period, he leaves class and stops to talk to me.
"Ms Educat, I was about to cry too."
I love this part of my job.