Month: June 2023

Dear Next Year’s Teacher

A couple of years ago, I learned that many elementary school teachers create these amazing documents about their students, which they then share with next year’s teachers. I was flabbergasted – what a lot of work! – and deeply impressed. A thoughtful document that shares students’ likes & dislikes, strengths and areas for growth, and even family situation could help create a soft landing space for the student as they transition from year to year. (And yes, it could backfire; and yes, students change; and yes, we all have biases; and yes, the new teacher will need to get to know the students in the new year – but let’s assume positive intentions all around.)

In high school, we don’t do anything like this. We pretend that an overall grade and some learning skills are enough information (they aren’t), leaving me to wonder, occasionally, what I would write to next year’s teacher if I had a chance. Obviously, I can’t ethically write a public post about individual students, but here’s what I wish next year’s university profs knew.

Dear Next Year’s Professor,

We tried. We really did. We read, and we wrote, and we even studied Hamlet. Ok, we *sort of* studied Hamlet. Ok, we got through Hamlet and watched several movie versions, which has to count for something. In general, the students were engaged. Most of them came most days. Everyone at least tried to read a book – if you include manga, which I do. Everyone turned in at least one written assignment and everyone participated in a formal debate, even if they were extremely unhappy about having to argue in favour of something they disagreed with. Even if they cried. Even if they spoke nearly inaudibly or in their third or fourth language. One way or another, they stood in front of their peers and spoke.

In good news, most people learned to revise their work using feedback, and most people were able to share their strongly held beliefs about the world without completely alienating their classmates, even in daily conversations. I’ll admit that the last one was hard. Heck, both of them were hard.

Still, you should probably know that sometimes people whispered through silent reading. And no matter what I did, their cellphones still ended up in their hands, almost by magic. Lots of times people were late. And since January, a lot of people have resorted to using AI when they’re feeling pressured – even if I try to dial back the pressure. Also, to be clear, turning work in on time seems to have disappeared, along with thank you notes and calling cards and other niceties of a bygone era. And, honestly, on a few days near the end, a fair number of students skipped even though they really needed the time in class. After all, they were still in high school.

I know they will arrive in your classroom looking like adults. Some of them will think they are adults and, since the law and our society believe that to be true, I guess they are. Nevertheless, I think you should probably know that they really aren’t fully grown. For example, every now and then, someone’s father still walks them to class, just to be sure they make it. Even at the end of the year, I had to get in touch with several parents in order to convince a few students to hand in one final assignment. And more than one student cried near the end of the year, usually from the sheer emotional overwhelm. They will swear that they know how to finish their work on time, but lots of them don’t, and they think I’ve pushed them hard, but they’re really only just starting to wrap their heads around essays and critical thinking. Also, between you and me, many of them haven’t mastered complicated grammar. Appositives flummox some of them, and comma splices abound.

Still, they want to learn; I’ve seen their excitement when they’re deep into an argument they believe, scrolling through the text, looking for evidence to prove that Gertrude is the hero or that grief is the defining feature of the play. I’ve heard them talking about calculus problems and sharing information about Chemistry. One of them has started a business; another is determined to be a designer. They have lived through things I can only imagine. Be gentle with them. They’ve only just dipped their toes in academic thought, even though they think they can already swim. And if there are days when you are tempted to despair or when you hear yourself say, “what are they teaching them in high school these days?” please remember that we tried. All of us. We really did.

Sincerely,

Their Grade 12 English teacher

Summer looms

The countdown to the end of the year is on. In my office, it’s quite literally on the white board, which displays the dwindling number of teaching days that remain. Today we hit 10. Every morning for the past few weeks, I have walked into the office and panicked just a little bit. It’s not enough time, I think. We have so much more to do. I feel like I’ve only just gotten to know some of these students. I only now understand what will work best. We’ve really only just started. How can we possibly learn enough in just ten more days?

We can’t, of course, and though my tendency is to try to cram in more and more lessons, I know that I need to do the opposite. Slow down, I tell myself. Savour the moments. A few days ago, fellow educator Michelle Haseltine posted, “This school year is quickly coming to an end for so many of us. This post serves as a quick reminder that emotions run high for everyone…high highs and low lows… Saying it out loud to remind myself that feeling all of my feelings is ok. It’s ok to feel more than one thing at a time.” I wrote it down (obviously) because I knew I needed to remember her wisdom.

I tried to use those thoughts this morning, when I realized that today’s goal was going to be “Try not to lose my temper.” What do you mean, you’ve deleted all of the work you did over the past five days because you “changed your mind” about your topic? Yes, that is a comma splice. Yes, I’m sure it is. Yes, we are still going to read for 15 minutes at the start of class. No, you cannot leave class early. You will never randomly be allowed to leave class early. The bell rings; the next class enters; the questions start again. No, you cannot use AI for your essays. Yes, Quillbot counts as AI because it is, in fact, AI – it has “bot” in its name, for pity’s sake. Yes, I have already told you when your summative project is. Yes, it is next week. No, you cannot use AI for it. Yes, I really do think you can do it. Yes, you will have to read every day until the end of the year. No, you cannot leave class early…

At lunchtime, I want to fall into a heap, but there’s a meeting – the final one of the year for this club – and then a parent conference. And another class, another round of ridiculousness brought on, I know, by summer’s imminent arrival. Yes, I really do think you can do this. Yes, you will have to read every day until the end of the year. No, you cannot leave class early…

And yet, as end-of-year excitement swirls through the school, causing chaos, I catch other moments, too: the young woman who sighs deeply when I announce the final essay, then whispers under her breath, “But I really am a better writer now”; the student who is writing her longest piece ever about the day her father learned they would immigrate to Canada; the young man who has started so many classes angry, and who I now know how to cajole into a better mood; the student who tells me they are almost surely going to finish their 15th book before the semester ends. We have grown this year, all of us. We really have. I can feel more than one thing at a time, I remind myself. In fact, I think I have to. Summer looms.