Turn the Page

Every May, I start to feel nostalgic.  It's the end of another school year, and too soon it'll be time to bid another group of 8th graders farewell as they go off to high school.  These last precious weeks are a flurry of excitement for them; they were recently confirmed, they're in the midst of graduation preparations, and they've just returned from their class trip to Washington, DC.  Some will stay together throughout high school and remain life-long friends; others will move on and leave the memories of the people and times in Catholic grade school behind forever.  Some of them have been together since their very first day of preschool...a decade of academic years strung together by seasons and sacraments.   Their past accomplishments flash before us in pictures, year books, and commemorative essays and poems as ceremonial presentations are created.  Looking back, we relive each funny, touching, hurtful and exciting memory so we can propel them forward in celebration to a new beginning.

Leaving is truly a milestone in their young lives.

But here I'll stay...ready to welcome the new class of now-fifth graders up into the middle school to start the cycle of goodbye once again.  I've been so lucky in my current position that I get to foster my students for three full years, from sixth through eighth grade.  Our small class sizes allow me to really get to know each individual very, very well...perhaps too well!  By the time my kids get to 8th grade, we've developed such a comfortable rapport that we're like family.  We know each others moods, mannerisms and quirks, and our conversations can sometimes take interesting turns that would not always be appropriate in public school. You see, we have liberties in  Catholic school that allow us to pray together, hug each other, cry if needed, and offer frank advice that may not fly under the more stringent and litigious guidelines of the public sector.

That close bond presents a struggle for my mother's heart, wanting to hold on for just a little bit longer until I'm sure each child is going to be OK in the much bigger, vastly different world of high school.  I know, however, that they must be off and on their own in ways they've never been before in order to become who they need to be.  My entire job is to prepare them to be ready to go on, so it's not like it's any big surprise that they do, in fact, leave.   But it's a bittersweet goodbye for us all.  They are so ready to enter into this new phase...but in these last fleeting days...so nervous, sentimental and reluctant to let go of this part of their childhood.

Hundreds of former students remain in my memory as the current group looks right about now.  They're frozen in time in this awkward stage, half child...half adult, and it's fascinating trying to imagine who they end up becoming.  Recently, thanks to the wonders of social media, I have  been blessed to reconnect with many of my very first students.  It's shocking to see them as grown-up adults when my life seems to plod along in an unending loop of school years.  Some have children of their own...older than my daughters, in some cases...and it's been amazing to hear how their stories turn out. 

I often wonder what it is they remember best about our time together -- though sometimes when I find out...it's not at all what I would have expected!  I see glimpses of past students in my present classes, marveling at how groups of children can be so similar years apart from each other, living in totally different environmental, social, and economic situations, and seen from my completely different perspective.   What will each new group take with them from this shared time?  How will I have affected them?  I may never find out.

But I know this:  each one affects me...each one helps me grow and learn something new.  Every school year I find something I can do better because a child has needed me to do better. They all become part of the continuing story of my life, and I anxiously await the next chapter.

Keeping It LIght

I teach in a very small school, and I have the same students for three years in a row. Over that time, I come to know them very well socially, spiritually and academically. As a result, I gain meaningful relationships with them and their families. Sometimes, we develop a very playful rapport. So playful, in fact, that one day I found myself holding a child in a head-lock giving him noogies. Now, I imagine some parents would be horrified. It’s a tricky thing to touch a child in any way, much less playfully brutalize one. But my school is special. His mother, upon hearing that I might possibly have done that to her child (from my own lips, nonetheless) said simply,

“Good for you! And you have my permission to kick him in the (blank), too, if he deserves it!!” Of course, she didn’t mean it, and I never would kick his (blank)…at least not very hard.

See, the trick to working with middle school kids is to keep it light. To that end, I have an entire repertoire of responses that I pull out to answer the countless questions I receive over and over all day long.

They’ll query, “Hey, Mrs. Martin?” and I’ll say, “That’s my name!” Then they usually just stare blankly until they remember they actually had something to say.

So they’ll next blurt out, “I have a question!” and I’ll respond, “And I have an answer!” Sometimes (usually after too much coffee) I’ll add, “It might not be the one you want, but I have one. And if I don’t, I’ll make it up.”

They’ll continue in a panic, “What if we don’t have our assignment today???” and I’ll retort, “Then you FAIL!” That one is sometimes followed with, “REALLY??? We’ll FAIL??” and I’ll say, “Well, not everyone. Just you.” Wink.

And finally, I get what I was after…the smile, the laugh, the relief. Middle school is tough enough without having to deal with a teacher who is out to get you. I WAS that hard-ass teacher when I started. Then I had children; my heart softened. Adolescents and teens need nurturing the same as an elementary aged student, and no matter how tough they act on the outside…they’re needy, awkward souls on the inside. Make them laugh and treat them with compassion, and they’re ten times easier to manage on a daily basis.

Turnabout is fair play, too. I love when they use my own tricks against me. For example, a typical assignment is to write contextually rich sentences using their vocab words. During a recent unit, I happened to walk out into the hall to admonish a group of chronically late students, and I got a little spirited, shall we say. It’s pretty rare for me to raise my voice, much less rise to the level of ranting and sputtering. But I might have that day.

Realizing it, I turned it into an object lesson regarding one of the words of the week: diatribe. I tried to pass the whole incident off as purposeful and planned for their edification. The humorous and sarcastic sentences soundly roasting me for my behavior written to me that week showed they knew better. However, they truly learned the contextual meaning of diatribe, and I bet they never forget it. Now THAT’S teaching…

One of my greatest joys is when a child is comfortable enough to exhibit his/her own sparring skills. It’s also one of the best indicators that the child will have the self-confidence needed to survive high school and beyond. When it comes during one of their most trying middle school units, it’s even better. And there is little more trying for my eighth graders than their term paper unit. By the time it is upon them, they’ve heard about it for years…seen two other grades go through it…sensed the abject fear and panic during the last frantic week before it’s due.

It’s a PERFECT time for some levity.

When the unit begins, I pass out the term paper packet. This publication has been written, edited, revised, updated and finessed by me for going on twenty years. It’s a thing of beauty, I tell you. I make a special title page printed in full-color, and I include everything they need to know to write the paper nearly painlessly. There are examples, guidelines, requirements, calendars, pictures, an evaluation and a detailed grading rubric. It’s several pages long, and I have to use a fair bit of my copy paper allotment to produce it. So I tell my students that if they lose their term paper packet, it'll cost them $5 for me to make a new copy. The idea is to impress upon them that I mean business, and they NEED THAT PACKET AT ALL TIMES.

But remember…they know me very well by now, and they know I am rarely all that serious. So it’s an odd day that anyone a) believes I’ll charge them and b) actually pays up when they lose the packet, as they inevitably do. When I actually am presented with crinkled dollar bills by a sheepish packet-less child, I donate it back to their 8th grade trip fund anyway.

The students who really understand me find a way to handle it well when they are in desperate need of a new copy – or even just a portion of it. Just today, a student asked if I could give him the page he needed and pro-rate the cost. But he didn’t have any money on him at the moment. “You can just bill my family,” he joked.

So I said, "Hmm...I don’t know. That’s a lot of math to calculate, and you know I don’t do math. How about if I give it to you just for having to show the shame and embarrassment for asking? Did you feel shame and embarrassment?" I asked, looking sternly over my glasses at him.

"Oh, yes,” he nodded earnestly, “Yes, I did. And it was deep."

Deep indeed. That’s how it is in my classroom on a daily basis. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!