Lessons for the Teacher on the Last Day of School

This is what you look like on the last day of school.

What you see here is a unique blend of thrill and exhaustion.

My friend Maddie (shown above) wrote about the school year in a way that today I cannot, and I am still reeling from her good words.  She was very gracious as she wrote about the year, and she described our little world very well.  I felt overwhelmed when reading her thoughts because they said things I am honestly too weary to say.  In a tiring year, Maddie has been inspiring because she took all of her energy as a new teacher and brought confidence, thought, and the good blend of clear vision and fun to the classroom.  You can see it in the her blog entry about the last day of school.   I'm adding it here because it's so all encompassing.  Go the the entry called 'Spinning'.

msbsgotclass.blogspot.com

As you can imagine, conversations with her are witty, directed, and true.  And spinning!  Such a relevant theme!  This was a mixed up year, and yet there was direction and good teaching in it somewhere.  We worked really, really hard this year every single day.

My favorite line from her entry was, 'Kids are amazing.  People are inspiring.  I'm always growing', because it brought back to life the things that really are true about learning and the idea of an education and school.  It is still true.  Even on June 10 when we looked that tired and it was still morning, it was still true.

One of the strangest experiences I had all day was at the very very end, in those last minutes when lots of girls are crying about everything that is amazing, and the buses are just not there yet.  Four 8th grade boys came up to me, lacrosse sticks in hand, and as they came toward me I marveled that when I met them two years ago they were 6 inches shorter than me.  Now I have to look up at them because they are 6 feet tall. 

One of them said, "I was really annoying this week in your class.   I was trying to be with all of those questions.  But we're ok, right?"

For me, this was the moment when everything clicked together, and I remembered that I really was teaching 8th grade all year.  And that last year when I had him in 7th grade, that was important too.  When I'm not weary to the bone, I can see very quickly that all students have a need for approval, and that no one wants to be a bad kid.  They need certain approval from teachers.  And what human doesn't need approval? 

Lately in life my special emphasis has been to study and learn with the 14 year old bracket of humanity though.  And they bring their own set of rules for sure.

In tense moments, I always ask the question, 'What is really going on with this student right now?'  It's an insecurity about something very real in their core.  No kid usually says outright that they are insecure.   In fact, I've never heard a student say that ever until they get to high school.  So I pray for the patience to endure those few seconds when I want to not like them but know there is more. 

After a few seconds of staring right back at them, I see the look in their eye that tells me what they're really fighting, and the swagger that they have when they walk down the hall isn't so annoying anymore.  Then, when they're being 'that guy' or 'that girl' in my class, I call that kid out into the hall and say, "I see you. I see what you're doing. It's not working. Here's a way out. But you need to know that I'm frustrated with you and there needs to be a change."  In certain situations, name dropping with the principal's name is also a helpful addition to a well-rounded conversation in the hallway. 

Those moments are always the awkward tension of the year, but on the last day of school, what I had forgotten is that you see all of this blend in the last minutes that you are officially their teacher, because they need that from you again.  This tall, aggravating, and endearing 8th grader stood there and had the same look about him that I saw when he was a 7th grader for the first time in my class.  I said, "You were annoying this week...what the heck?  But we are definitely good."  He smiled and left, and we once again had solidarity.

The very human side of me appreciated his confession because he really was relentless about pursuing distraction, frustration, and silly statements.   It was hard to be with him because I didn't want to have the the strength to direct a steely gaze his way and shut things down without a power struggle.   But deep down I knew it was because he can't go to Washington D.C. next week with everyone else.

It was good to level things out with that person because in 7th grade, he had some loyalties to me in front of other students.  This loyalty was definitely hidden until one day when I was covering class for another teacher in my own classroom, and students were taking a test.  A student talked during a test, and I shot the evil eye which usually works well because everyone knows that test days feel different.  You just don't talk.  But a student did one more time, and before I said anything, the aforementioned student said to his classmate, 'What about that don't you understand?  Miss Christians told you not to talk.  So just don't.' 

Silence.  Complete surprise.  Respect for the guy, myself included.  I decided to accept the 12 year old boldness, not tell him that it was endearing, and feel grateful that suddenly 7th grade boys were self-regulating.   And he was someone who would walk up to me at Target and tell me about his summer and ask me about mine.  In this conversation he told me that he was getting taller.  Could I tell?  (I could.)  'Probably by the beginning of 8th grade, I'll grow another 6 inches, Miss Christians.' 

I assure them that this is probably really true.  Actually, now that I think about it, 7th grade boy musings really are filled with predictions about how tall they'll be in x amount of time.   Then in 8th grade when I am standing by them their friends are asking me how tall I am and doing comparisons.   I am a human measuring stick and I didn't even know it until now. 
  
What comes next for these people is the 9th grade of 'I'm-too-cool-for-my-middle-school-teachers' (yeah, right), and the 10th grade driving conversations.  After this, I'm not really sure what exactly emerges.  College, really clicking with your class, a different kind of swagger?  I have really been focused on middle school for a few years, and late high school seems unfamiliar again.  But I've been teaching for 3 years now at this little school, and now my first students are getting older and they do want to come back and fill me in about life and reminisce about silly middle school things. And this is a very nice phenomenon for me too.

Next up: Adventures with 8th graders in Washington, D.C.   (Prayers are appreciated.)