To the Class of 2018
Today I witnessed my first 7th grade class from 2012, graduating from high school. This was not my usual Commencement, because these kids were the ones who brought me into the world of teaching middle school. It was a day that I was sure I would cry and show my emotions on my sleeve. Surprisingly the sleeve was only unending happiness. I had no tears to shed for these students moving forward, I had only sunshine running through my veins. These were kids that I saw at the top of their angst and wonderful teenage development. They were hyperactive and crazy and rude and fantastical like a mythical creature. They made everything difficult for me at the beginning. They inadvertently tortured me in their own way. However, coming to the end, I realized how much they changed my life and made me the best damn middle school teacher possible.
When I started teaching, I was in charge of 10th and 11th grade. I was then told that I would be transferred to middle school. I cried. A lot. I thought, "I don't want to teach the little kids...". Little did I know that this would become a thing that defines me 6 years later.
As I saw everyone walking across that stage, I could think of a story for almost every person. One had terrible impressions of me that made absolutely no sense. One was one of the kindest and most empathetic humans I'd ever met (despite her love of Disney Princesses, which we've disagreed about since she was 13). One drew me the most hilarious dinosaur cartoons which hung in my classroom for as long as I can remember (until I finally gave into pressure to de-clutter my classroom). One who hadn't spoken 20 words in the entire time I knew him in school but backed me up in art class when I reminded a certain student of a ridiculous and vaguely awful thing him and his friend said to me (and hugged me at graduation!). One who had been a genuine light and beautiful human being who was always good to her classmates. One who I remembered giving the teacher-face to in the hallway everyday, and every time we made eye contact he'd say, "Really?!" One who was just a general sweet kid, who always seemed to be in the right place at the right time when I was in the hallway lecturing a middle school kid, so I could turn and say, "Am I right?" he would always reply with, "You should listen to her!" (thanks for always having my back, kid!). One who had to check it at the door when she was 13 but turned into one of the most admirable young ladies I know, One who still doesn't know how to tuck his shirt in, but is a fantastic human regardless (for the record, I hate tucking my shirt in too. However, I was trying to set an example for the middle school kids). One that was the most talented person I knew, who I know would do amazing things in this world, not because she was talented but because she had an amazing heart. One of the kindest, sweetest people on the planet who I almost never heard speak in 7th grade but who has since not only found her voice but found her calling. One who once said I had a "pimp walk" and is the sassiest person I know who will never apologize for who she is, which I understand and appreciate (even though it made teaching her next to impossible, sometimes). One of the funniest students I've ever known, who made most things into a joke even though he had a heart of gold. Two who were barely heard but somehow conveyed everything with a look, which was immediately discernible. One who was paired with one of my former students in peer mentoring, who bonded over the fact that they hated me at the beginning but eventually realized that I really cared and became one of my personal cheerleaders. One who is an inspiration to even me (a cancer survivor myself) who despite the challenges of her childhood overcame them and became the best she could be.
The one story I specifically thought about at the graduation is this one, which I am sure has stayed in oral history but one that I have never written down. Now, for all the world to read, you can witness what teaching middle school is really like. (I realize it breaks up this whole story/letter but I thought it was worth it)
In one of my first 7th grade classes, someone asked if I would play in the student-teacher basketball game. I had played the previous year and it was disastrous. Because I had been trained as a center/forward as a kid (because I've been about 5'5" since I was 12) and now was forced to play point because of my height, I was a mess on the court. One student raised his hand and said, "Miss? You haven't grown since you were 12?" I told him that it was true. He then put his hands out in front of him and made the corresponding motion as he exclaimed, "So, you've just grown...wider". I turned around and laid my head on the chalk board as his friend said, "Ohhhh! You just called Miss chubby!!".
That was my first year teaching middle school. Even that previous story is at this point, a fond memory. It's definitely unforgettable. The point to this piece is, I have a whole giant paragraph reminiscing about students and I have one memory that may be construed as a negative. However, this entire thing is positive in my mind. I don't remember the bad, terrible things they did as 7th graders. Middle school is a tough time, for you and your teachers. I just remember to treasure the ridiculous. To marvel in the irritating. To revel in the chaos.
What I do remember is every random act of kindness I ever saw. Every time I watched one of my original 7th graders take a younger kid under their wing and inspire them to do better. Every time I had the pleasure of teaching one of your siblings and getting to know a different side of your family.
So here it is, Class of 2018: I am so incredibly proud of all of you. You are some of the most remarkable people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I honestly dreaded teaching middle school, but I am so thankful that I was forced into it. Otherwise I would not have had the pleasure of knowing each and every one of you. You are the class that I will treasure for teaching me more about myself than even I knew. So go on into the deep blue yonder. Venture. Explore. Delve. And never be afraid to do so because you are all remarkable, amazing people who will accomplish anything you set your minds to. Never let the world get you down and remember that you are absolutely, and completely amazing humans who can withstand any storm that comes your way.
When I started teaching, I was in charge of 10th and 11th grade. I was then told that I would be transferred to middle school. I cried. A lot. I thought, "I don't want to teach the little kids...". Little did I know that this would become a thing that defines me 6 years later.
As I saw everyone walking across that stage, I could think of a story for almost every person. One had terrible impressions of me that made absolutely no sense. One was one of the kindest and most empathetic humans I'd ever met (despite her love of Disney Princesses, which we've disagreed about since she was 13). One drew me the most hilarious dinosaur cartoons which hung in my classroom for as long as I can remember (until I finally gave into pressure to de-clutter my classroom). One who hadn't spoken 20 words in the entire time I knew him in school but backed me up in art class when I reminded a certain student of a ridiculous and vaguely awful thing him and his friend said to me (and hugged me at graduation!). One who had been a genuine light and beautiful human being who was always good to her classmates. One who I remembered giving the teacher-face to in the hallway everyday, and every time we made eye contact he'd say, "Really?!" One who was just a general sweet kid, who always seemed to be in the right place at the right time when I was in the hallway lecturing a middle school kid, so I could turn and say, "Am I right?" he would always reply with, "You should listen to her!" (thanks for always having my back, kid!). One who had to check it at the door when she was 13 but turned into one of the most admirable young ladies I know, One who still doesn't know how to tuck his shirt in, but is a fantastic human regardless (for the record, I hate tucking my shirt in too. However, I was trying to set an example for the middle school kids). One that was the most talented person I knew, who I know would do amazing things in this world, not because she was talented but because she had an amazing heart. One of the kindest, sweetest people on the planet who I almost never heard speak in 7th grade but who has since not only found her voice but found her calling. One who once said I had a "pimp walk" and is the sassiest person I know who will never apologize for who she is, which I understand and appreciate (even though it made teaching her next to impossible, sometimes). One of the funniest students I've ever known, who made most things into a joke even though he had a heart of gold. Two who were barely heard but somehow conveyed everything with a look, which was immediately discernible. One who was paired with one of my former students in peer mentoring, who bonded over the fact that they hated me at the beginning but eventually realized that I really cared and became one of my personal cheerleaders. One who is an inspiration to even me (a cancer survivor myself) who despite the challenges of her childhood overcame them and became the best she could be.
The one story I specifically thought about at the graduation is this one, which I am sure has stayed in oral history but one that I have never written down. Now, for all the world to read, you can witness what teaching middle school is really like. (I realize it breaks up this whole story/letter but I thought it was worth it)
In one of my first 7th grade classes, someone asked if I would play in the student-teacher basketball game. I had played the previous year and it was disastrous. Because I had been trained as a center/forward as a kid (because I've been about 5'5" since I was 12) and now was forced to play point because of my height, I was a mess on the court. One student raised his hand and said, "Miss? You haven't grown since you were 12?" I told him that it was true. He then put his hands out in front of him and made the corresponding motion as he exclaimed, "So, you've just grown...wider". I turned around and laid my head on the chalk board as his friend said, "Ohhhh! You just called Miss chubby!!".
That was my first year teaching middle school. Even that previous story is at this point, a fond memory. It's definitely unforgettable. The point to this piece is, I have a whole giant paragraph reminiscing about students and I have one memory that may be construed as a negative. However, this entire thing is positive in my mind. I don't remember the bad, terrible things they did as 7th graders. Middle school is a tough time, for you and your teachers. I just remember to treasure the ridiculous. To marvel in the irritating. To revel in the chaos.
What I do remember is every random act of kindness I ever saw. Every time I watched one of my original 7th graders take a younger kid under their wing and inspire them to do better. Every time I had the pleasure of teaching one of your siblings and getting to know a different side of your family.
So here it is, Class of 2018: I am so incredibly proud of all of you. You are some of the most remarkable people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I honestly dreaded teaching middle school, but I am so thankful that I was forced into it. Otherwise I would not have had the pleasure of knowing each and every one of you. You are the class that I will treasure for teaching me more about myself than even I knew. So go on into the deep blue yonder. Venture. Explore. Delve. And never be afraid to do so because you are all remarkable, amazing people who will accomplish anything you set your minds to. Never let the world get you down and remember that you are absolutely, and completely amazing humans who can withstand any storm that comes your way.
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