No Crying in Chaperoning

As the ball spiraled into the end zone, I jumped up to my feet. After blocking Oshkosh's kick in double overtime, all we needed was this touch down and an extra point to win the game. It was already a long shot, and it unfortunately didn't stick in our receiver's hands. After winning for most of the game, I felt my breath catch in my throat as I finally realized we wouldn't be coming out on top. The effect on our players was instantaneous and gut wrenching. 

A score is the product of a million different interactions and decisions. It is because of the players throwing and catching the ball in those last seconds that our team even made it to the level 3 playoff game. It is because of them (all the guys) that we nearly won the game. It was heartbreaking to lose only because of how much they've won and how well they've played.

I didn't expect us to win the game. I spent Friday trying to convince my students that Oshkosh North has a great team. Win or lose, we shouldn't be disappointed. The football players in my class thanked me for the sentiment but obviously disagreed. I convinced myself not to get my hopes up because much like baseball, there's no crying in chaperoning, and I tend to become very invested in games.

Tasting victory for most of the game though, my, and everyone's, hopes were high. As it set in that we'd lost, the Oshkosh fans stormed the field in jubilation as we watched our team's frustration and sadness in heartbroken silence. Martinez raised the ball to the stands, and our fans cheered. Even three hours from home, our students, parents, and community members filled nearly a third of the college stadium.

In class on Thursday, we had a football momentum problem, and I suggested that the players either collided in a tackle or a hug. The running back in my class told me that they don't hug. After the game ended though, there were 30 minutes or more of football hugs and tears. The seniors, coaches, and players shared moments before the student section and parents formed a crescent on the field, waiting for their turn to show support. I clenched my jaw and waited on the sidelines, because there's no crying in chaperoning. Long after the Spartans left the field, our fans and players hung back.

Eventually, with tiny droplets of rain starting to fall around us, we migrated back to the bus. We ate at Culvers, and when we were joined by the football team, the whole restaurant erupted in applause, and I developed a serious case of "the feels".

I am so proud.
I'm proud of the team and their accomplishments. More over, I'm proud of the family/brotherhood they've formed. I'm proud of our fans and their support of the team. I'm proud that even before the game, during our Friday assembly, our student gave a longer standing ovation to our undefeated adaptive sports league's players than the record breaking competitive football team (because they knew how much it would mean to the students with special needs). And when it was the football team's moment to shine, they applauded the fans. I couldn't ask for a better community to teach in.

Students are far from perfect. They are not always selfless. They sometimes forget the respect we model/teach. But, they are wonderful. I can't help feeling totally blessed to be even a small part of so many lives. I struggled not to think about how lucky I am during the long ride. After all, there's no crying in chaperoning.