Dear Sixth Grade Teacher,
I was 22 years old when I first started teaching. I was full of optimism that a quality education could change anyone's life, just as it changed mine. Then, I landed squarely in a Title I school teaching tenth grade English in one of the most challenging schools in Alabama.
It was, by far, the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I quickly learned I was fighting a current of suffocating poverty and generations of learned helplessness. It was, quite frankly, overwhelming, and I knew if I did not get some help I would burn out quickly. The needs were way too great for me.
The next year I got married and moved to Florida, where I found myself teaching AP Lit to a much different demographic. I'm telling you these were some top notch kids. In Room 613, I taught some of the brightest minds in the state, maybe even the country.
Still, my heart was set on those first students, as I imagined them still locked in their air tight cages of poverty. Who held the keys? It was hard to say. One day in my AP class I vividly remember saying.."I left my old school because the needs were too great for "just" me, but I thought if I came to one of the best schools in the best state with the best students and taught them about what really mattered in life, I might be able to put a dent in the darkness. Many of you in this room will become lawyers, doctors, nurses, teachers, scientists. Whatever you choose to do, will you make me a promise? Will you promise to use your gifts to serve others? Will you help me go back and get my orphans?"
At the time, what I could not anticipate was that they were actually listening and that they would keep their promises. They are all grown up now. And together, I feel like we really are putting a dent in the darkness, and this email from one of those students sitting in that AP class over a decade ago is proof. She was always a phenomenal writer, so I will let her do the honors.
Mrs. Bell,
I teach 6th grade, which means I am really teaching 5th graders from February. These kids have been through the ringer, especially in another country. Some of them had parents deploy over the summer. Some just moved to this country. ALL are trying to navigate middle school...and google docs, google sheets, jam boards, an A/B schedule, masks, sanitizing, and oh yeah, the content of lessons.
They’ve been resilient and taking it head on. The kids don’t complain-when you remind them to pull their mask above their nose, they just do it. When you remind them how to share their google sheet, they do it. When you remind them to sanitize before entering the classroom, they stick out their hands, and they get to rubbing. They do their assignments...all but one class. Today, I forgot to click off the button that says, “student may make comments” on one post for the google classroom. While I’m standing up front lecturing, they are commenting back and forth, a full 56 comment thread. I had no idea. Not until my planning period when I saw the comments, and my blood began to boil. The nerve, I thought. They were typing while I was providing some top quality instruction. I was ready to assign a class worth of lunch detentions when I decided to look over the comments....”/Hi” “hey” “what’s your favorite food?” “Yeeeeeeet”
All but the last comment were really just young people trying to connect with one another. Then I remembered they are just sixth graders, sixth graders who want to talk to their friends. They haven’t had friends for so long. As a data collector, I evaluated this input and decided to include more relationships and connections in our instructional time.
Yes, I’ve established procedures. Eleven year olds are whizzing through this technology. At ELEVEN—It really is incredible. One month in to school, and it’s time to let the flurry of back to school settle. Because most of these not-really 6th graders chose to return to brick and mortar for the connections, it’s my job to be a social engineer. It’s my job to provide opportunities to connect, oh and teach some ELA, too.
Hopefully, next time these connections won't be while the teacher is talking.
Sincerely,
Your Former Student
To this former student, I would say, "They'll probably talk again when you are talking, but don't think for a minute that they aren't listening."
One of those little Yeeters might even surprise you and grow up to be a teacher like you, simply because you took the time to build a connection.
I sure hope they do because we're going to need an army to keep putting a dent in the darkness. Thanks (former student) for helping me not burn out and for helping me gather up the orphans. We need each other, and they need us too.
After all, it may only be a faint glimmer, but I think I see a a little light, don't you?
-CDB