Oh! The Humanity!

When I decided to go back into teaching (I had taken off while my boys were younger), I knew I wanted to teach middle school. They say people who teach middle school have to be part crazy, and in part, they are correct. Really, though, to teach middle school one simply has to appreciate the extreme growth an individual can have over the course of a year. Think about all the types of growth children experience from ages 11-14.

So why would anyone want to teach these kids who are up and down? (It's like teaching manic depressives who are all on varying mood swings.)

My reason was clear: connection

It may sound egotistical, but I really felt that I was meant to teach middle school in order to make at least one year of these students' lives better. I understand how impactful those years are. I wanted to create a bond where students could trust me and know that I care about them. I taught them English, but I was more concerned with how they grew as a person. That's what they would remember most, not the content of my curriculum.

CC0 Public Domain via Pixabay

The Turtle

A brilliant girl in one of my classes slowed her pace considerably in a matter of weeks. She was slipping academically, and it wasn't the content tripping her up. I asked her to stay after class one day so I could speak with her privately. I was upfront with her. I didn't want to see her fail, nor did I want to see her slip further into her shell.

I said to her, "I know something personal is going on with you; I don't need to know what it is. I just want you to know that I understand. What I want you to do is instead of making up all assignments, choose a few that you know you can handle. There is no reason to for you to fail."

The response was unexpected. She cried and opened up about what had been plaguing her. It was profound--that which was affecting her and the trust that she showed me. On that day, we connected not as teacher and student but as two people who recognized the sufferings and joys of the human condition. She was so incredibly relieved that someone took notice of her struggles and didn't pry but approached her with care and understanding. I shared not the details of her pain with her other teachers but generalized it. This was how her teachers could support her--adapt and understand that middle schoolers are not academics; they are children who need significant support and great empathy.

The Next Year

I left the classroom (and my school) and my last group of kids moved up to the next grade. I decided to visit one day during lunch. Students attacked me with hugs. They were genuinely happy to see me. I missed them. The Turtle came at me quietly after all the others had started to leave from the lunch room. 

"Mrs. A? I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me last year."

It was the most sincere, heartfelt thank you I have ever received. I will never forget her, and I imagine, she will never forget me--a connection in experience and memory for us both.