In 2002 at my fall parent/teacher conferences, I met with a mom who was very concerned about her son, Cody. His brother, Cory Hubbell, was serving in Operation Iraqi Freedom, and Connie said his brother, the son we were meeting about, was not handling that very well. In tears, she asked me if there was anything I could do to help him.
After some conversation, I offered to have the students write his brother letters. We could even make some care packages and send those along, too.
We began immediately, and sent letters and packages to Cory all school year. It seemed to help Cody adjust to having a brother at war as his mom reported that he was doing better at home. Cory loved our letters and gifts, writing back to thank us and tell us so. It was a very positive classroom activity with many teaching moments about caring and compassion.
And then, just after school let out for summer, the unthinkable happened.
Cory died.
He died on June 26, 2003 and was one of the first 100 deaths in that war. (He made it into a pictorial tribute in
People magazine as a result.) The circumstances of his death were unusual and suspicious - several servicemen and women became suddenly ill with a mysterious respiratory illness, were taken to Kuwait for treatment, and died. All of them. There was speculation in the national news that the Iraqis were using chemical or biological warfare which had caused those deaths, but as far as I know, that still remains unproven.
Cory's death made headlines across the state as he was the first Illinois casualty from Iraqi Operation Freedom. His visitation and funeral were packed - I could not see much at the funeral as I was seated in a side room, but Cody and his mom caught a glimpse of me and knew I was there in support. And after the funeral some other teachers and I went to the VFW and served a meal to the grieving family members.
I was horrified to realize that, in trying to do a good thing to help a child in my classroom, I had also unwittingly introduced my students to a tragic aspect of life - those who serve do not always come home alive. I had brought death into my classroom, something I would not have consciously chosen to do. I felt awful and had a lot of self-doubt over my decision.
My intentions were good, and I know the children learned about compassion and caring as they wrote their letters and gathered soap, shampoo, candy, and other items to send Cory. And the difference it made to Cody, my student and his brother, was tremendous.
But never, ever did I mean to bring the harsh reality of death to a group of 5th graders.
I have done a lot of soul searching, and I always come to the same conclusion - I would do it again. Bringing caring and compassion to a young man serving far from home was the right thing to do. Teaching the students how important it is to care and then act on that was the right thing to do. Supporting Cody (and his mother, who also struggled with her son serving in the war and was very appreciative of our efforts) was the right thing to do.
My all-grown-up-now student, Cody, and his girlfriend, earlier this year.
Yes, I would make the same decision again. For Cody, for Cory, and for Connie.
