Levi had an ability that few students possess; he could be my favorite and then least favorite student in the class and repeat it again throughout the hour. I remember asking in class discussion a few years ago for students to describe a character. Some said this character was sneaky. Some said conniving. Levi added to this discussion, without raising his hand or being called on. He said, "Mrs. Neill, if I were a betting man, I'd say he was a Democrat." Those were the type of comments I grew to expect from him. Those types of comments sometimes landed him in the hallway for a quick discussion, and other times ended with someone laughing hysterically on the ground.
All students have to take English. It is a core subject, and core teachers know that if given the choice most students would not choose to be in that class. It is a challenge to motivate those students and to get them to buy into what we teach, but that is the challenge that most of us live for. Levi enjoyed the discussions in my class, but by no means was he a fan of English. His sophomore year, he spent most of the time during research papers goofing around. When the time came to grade his paper, he failed. I called him out on his behavior and lack of paraphrasing, and then asked him if he would be willing to work with me to write it correctly? He agreed, and I spent the next 2-3 weeks working with him in Mrs. Unruh's class to get that paper written. He didn't want to do it, but he knew it was the right thing to do, so he did. Levi had a conscience. He knew right from wrong, even though he did not always make the right choices. He believed his word was gold, and he followed through with what he said he was going to do. What does a man have if he can't be trusted to do what he says?
I think that Levi would have been shocked to see the superintendent, both principals, and countless teachers at his funeral. I think he would have been shocked to see how many classmates showed up to pay their respects. The service was beautiful -- the country music, the video of one of his stunts, the antlers on his coffin, the fact that (as Mrs. Hecox pointed out) all of his friends showed up wearing sleeves instead of cut-off shirts. I think that Levi had no idea the impact he has left on so many of us. In his eyes, he was just a good ol' boy. He lived the verses of his favorite country music songs. He was genuine, and even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes (he would love that I cussed right there), teachers can spot genuine, and genuine is a trait that is hard to find. We had no idea what kind of future he would have, but we knew the kind of future we wanted for him. That is why he was worth such a fight.
Sometimes teachers are put in a position to teach content or life lessons. When something like this happens, and a student is taken too soon, we are easily reminded that our students also teach us. I have a desk in my room that wobbles; it is Clinton's. He bent it one day when he stepped over it and fell taking out two other desks. I will never have it fixed. Clinton died three years later from cancer. Clinton taught me the importance of a smile; something so small can turn a bad day into a good one. I have a note from James that reads "I are smart!" He aced a test without much studying. James died in what would have been his senior year. James taught me that it is okay to laugh at my students; they are funny. And now, each time a see a loud truck proudly waving both American and Confederate flags, I will smile and think of Levi. I will take it as a sign that he is in a better place. I was Levi's student in life. He was loyal to the core. He never took himself too seriously. He put others first. He was genuine. Sometimes we teach students, but most of the time, they teach us.
Class dismissed.
Class dismissed.
