Cedric was my first love.
We all have them. It’s a whirlwind of feelings you don’t understand, stars in the sky, flourishes of flutes, kisses, fights, tears.
And when it’s all over, maybe you never really fall out of love.
I don’t think about him often. We’re facebook buddies, and when I’m back in the hometown, I’ll do my best to hang around wherever I think I might run into him. I’ll let him tease me and I’ll tease him back and we’ll catch up on life and love and music and give each other a hug and be on our own ways. It’s been longer than I’d care to remember since I fell in love with him, and I don’t really know that I could tell you when I was finally, truly okay after he’d gone. I am now. That’s what matters.
But he’s still Cedric. He’s still the one who took me to my junior prom, who curled up with me on his best friend’s couch, watching movies. He’s the one who built me a fire in my grandma’s fireplace on my 16th birthday, who drove hours and hours just to hold my hand, who let me tell him when he wasn’t done kissing me yet, thank you. He let me call from college, crying over the boys who didn’t love me, who never would. He was an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, the Montana Speech and Drama State Champion, my favorite red headed Eagle Scout, and somebody anybody could always count on for a laugh.
He was the Big Dog, the big brother, the best friend.
And for a short time, he was living his own little dream.
I guess he still is.
But somebody’s trying to take it away from him, and even though maybe it shouldn’t be, to me, it’s personal.
He and I lived through so many of the same things, and what we lived through was wonderful. It was wonderful in large part because of the teachers we had– how much they knew, how hard the pushed us, how much they cared. And I knew, I always knew and still know, that that was what Cedric wanted. Not only did he want that, but he wanted it in that town, that building, that room. The kids would be different but the potential and energy and talent would be the same.
It’s not that I’ve ever seen him teach, but I’ve seen him lord over many a marching band, and I have to believe he has what it takes.
And they’re trying to take it away from him.
That program made me who I am.
That was important, so let me say it again.
The Sidney Middle and High School Music Department made me who I am.
I think it’s pretty obvious that Cedric could probably say the same thing.
My heart has been broken time and time again, hearing about who isn’t teaching anymore, and even more, who is. Is the administration not trying hard enough? Are they being selfish? How much do they expect from a first year teacher? Too much or not enough?
Or both?
I don’t know, but that department made me who I am (its always worth saying one more time) and even the slightest inkling I may have that any kid in that beautiful little town I grew up in might not have the opportunities I had shatters my heart into tiny, irreparable pieces.
I never expected my teachers to stick around forever. That would have been crazy and unrealistic… but I was there when one of my favorites retired. They replaced him with a woman just as strong willed and passionate, knowledgeable and talented as he was. I saw that happen right before my eyes, so it never occurred to me that one day, wrong decision after wrong decision could be made. I never dreamed it could all fall apart.
But Cedric. Cedric swooped in and started putting the little eaglets in little rows. From what I understand, he really made those kids love music again, really made them work for it, really put everything he had into that program. And why shouldn’t he? He knows what potential is there. When you know how great something can be, don’t you want it to be GREAT?
Cedric did.
90 people showed up to a school board meeting last night to show their support for somebody I couldn’t care more about right now. My thoughts are on him, on those kids, on that school. I have never believed anything quite as much as I believe that he is in the right place, doing what he’s meant to do. He’s got something amazing in his hands, and after the things that department has been through over the past few years, he’s one of the only people I’d trust with it. I just have to hope those 90 people were enough to make those crazy few on that administrative board see that he is worth trusting.
He’s worth so much more than they’re giving him.
