It's no secret to anyone that I absolutely love and adore my job. My absolute favorite parts of what I get to do all day every day are building relationships and class discussions of incredible literature. These kids who sit in my classroom every day? They are BRILLIANT. They are KIND. They are INSIGHTFUL. They are FUN. My life is enriched by my connections with them every single year. And a life that includes daily doses of Shakespeare, Mary Shelley, Joseph Conrad, Geoffrey Chaucer, Tim O'Brien, Azar Nafisi, Markus Zusak, Gerda Weissman Klein, John Donne, Andrew Marvell, and on and on and on and on??? YES, PLEASE. WHAT.A.LIFE.
My second favorite part, and a part that closely coincides with the part I DISLIKE the most ;) , is reading my students' writing (specifically their journals). I am NOT a fan of grading. I wish we could just issue grades based on involvement and excitement and connection. However, English class must include essays and tests and research and other quantifiable things, so I comply. :) Their journals, though... now those are a blast to grade. And those aid in one of my favorite parts, the relationships part. I cannot explain to you the beauty and brilliance and poetry and pain that is adolescent writing. They are just raw in their expression and it is such a privilege to be able to read them. I have had students in the past I have begged to create blogs because I would happily read their writing for pleasure ANY DAY. Some of my favorite authors are previous and current inhabitants of room 222.
{There may or may not have been an awkward moment last year when I told a particular students I wanted to swim around in her paragraphs and wrap up in her sentences. No kidding, I am pretty much 100% sure I creeped her out for the rest of the year.}
Sometimes I read things by my kids and they just steep in my heart and soul and the piece below is one of those things. It was moving and powerful and raw and I absolutely loved it. It is part of a series this student wrote, a series of a sort of character profiles (similar to "Spoon River Anthology") and this one was just so complex and layered. I wanted to share it here so that I will always have it to reread and because someone else might enjoy this look inside the greatest job on earth. This kid's writing absolutely blows my mind.
"CASSANDRA
You warned us. Youwore your hoodie way back with Trayvon Martin and you whispered “this is aproblem.” And we smiled and said it was nothing and turned away. And then ithappened again. And again. And with women and children and unarmed innocentsand by “protectors” in power. And you said that Black Lives Matter and weagreed and said that all lives mattered too and we smiled and turned away. Andthen the flags started flying and the hate started spitting out of old men’smouths and you said that antiquity doesn’t excuse racism and we smiled in shameat ourselves because you told us of the hate that had always existed and weturned away. And then the cries of “Build the Wall” echo through the cafeteriawhile the plans of making america great again- using the force of your labor,again- ran through the minds of us who smiled and nodded and turned away.
And then you screamedthat you were more than an inconvenience, more than Someone Lesser, had moresubstance than that voice that echoed in our hearts but that we still wouldn’thear. And we said that it wouldn’t be thatbad, and we smiled politely to keep the fragile peace intact. And we turnedaway.
The world is on fireand we turned away. You warned us. And we smiled nervously and we turned away.It’s to late for us to listen now. It’s too late for you to say anything else,to warn us again. Your voice is silent now, like you said it would become, andyou are so broken because Hate Won. But we make Love in small batches, locally,the violin in the void. So you show us pictures of your dog and we bake cookiesbecause you warned us and now we know."
{author kept anonymous}
