I'm gonna cry. I'm 6'2", 245. I pride myself on being tough and pushing myself and those around me to be their best. I can give directions at 300 yards. I'm the one the kids don't want to be weak in front of. But I'm gonna cry.
I almost did the other week when one of my old kids came back nearly every day to talk about how much he misses football and how much he learned from his two years here. I almost did the other day when a girl came up an asked if I remembered her brother. She told me he's about to graduate and go to college, though that wasn't where he was headed in 8th grade.
I don't know what I'm going to do when I don't get to hear about my old kids; when I don't see the 6'3" senior at his brother's football game. The one who throws a 95 mph fastball, but was too small in junior high to play football as hard as he did. That's what we teach for. Not for today, and who the kids are, but who they can be, and who they become.
I don't know how I'll be able to start again, without kids walking out to football practice just to tell me they passed all their classes at Seguin this six weeks, bragging that they're on JV, or telling me they're going into the Navy. Those tough days won't turn around as quick when I don't have a little brother or sister tell me how their siblings are doing. I won't be reminded of a face that was so similar a few years ago in the same desk. It'll take time to build new relationships with colleagues, meet new families and create new memories.
So I'm going to cry, and probably more than once. My only hope is to hold out until at least the spring. We have a family here. A family that cares about each other and cares about our kids, even when we can't understand why. Those are the kids, though, that are going to make me cry. The ones I don't know why I put in the effort for, but that I see all the time with a crooked smile that says "I know what I used to be, but now I want you to know who I am."
I'm going to cry, but I think I'll be better for it.
Jay Crumley
Texas History and Athletics
I almost did the other week when one of my old kids came back nearly every day to talk about how much he misses football and how much he learned from his two years here. I almost did the other day when a girl came up an asked if I remembered her brother. She told me he's about to graduate and go to college, though that wasn't where he was headed in 8th grade.
I don't know what I'm going to do when I don't get to hear about my old kids; when I don't see the 6'3" senior at his brother's football game. The one who throws a 95 mph fastball, but was too small in junior high to play football as hard as he did. That's what we teach for. Not for today, and who the kids are, but who they can be, and who they become.
I don't know how I'll be able to start again, without kids walking out to football practice just to tell me they passed all their classes at Seguin this six weeks, bragging that they're on JV, or telling me they're going into the Navy. Those tough days won't turn around as quick when I don't have a little brother or sister tell me how their siblings are doing. I won't be reminded of a face that was so similar a few years ago in the same desk. It'll take time to build new relationships with colleagues, meet new families and create new memories.
So I'm going to cry, and probably more than once. My only hope is to hold out until at least the spring. We have a family here. A family that cares about each other and cares about our kids, even when we can't understand why. Those are the kids, though, that are going to make me cry. The ones I don't know why I put in the effort for, but that I see all the time with a crooked smile that says "I know what I used to be, but now I want you to know who I am."
I'm going to cry, but I think I'll be better for it.
Jay Crumley
Texas History and Athletics