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The one thing no one warns you about when you're thinking of becoming an educator is the funerals. Oh, everyone knows that death is part of life, etc etc, and no workplace is without the possibility of someone dying.

Maybe it's just the exposure to the number of people with whom educators work. Maybe it's that education is so personal; a good teacher is making an investment in the children. Or maybe it's the fact that it's children.

In four years of teaching, we've now had to attend three funerals. The first two were both of our students. Possibly I had more real contact hours with the students than DH did since they weren't in his program, and I was the main substitute teacher in the school. It doesn't matter. The children still died (one was a suicide by hanging, the other a murder by parent). The first no one saw coming, the second everyone except Social Services did.

This last one was the one you expect, but never expect. A sixteen year old girl lost control of her car on a gravel road. There was no alcohol, bad weather, or speeding involved. Her only mistake was in not wearing her seatbelt. She was thrown through the windshield and effectively cut in half. She lived long enough to die in hospital. Her passenger is fine.

The line at her visitation yesterday took more than two hours to go through. I think the whole town showed up.

She was one of DH's students exclusively, and one of his favorites. I didn't know her. I won't lie and say that doesn't make it easier, because it does.

Still.

It's hard to believe that this is part of what we signed on for when we became teachers.