The Fear Of Success
Okay, so have I mentioned that I teach seniors this semester? I can't remember.
Well, I do. Teach seniors. And in North Carolina (or, well, maybe not the entire state, but the school district I work in), graduating seniors must do a senior exit project. They write a research paper in English III, when they're juniors, and in English IV, as seniors, they have to create a product that goes along with it and then present everything to a panel of judges. If they fail the senior exit, technically, they don't graduate high school.
So . . . My seniors had their products due last Monday. All of the English IV teachers, actually, made this the due date. And on top of that, we told them the products were also counting as their midterms. A whopping 20% of their semester grade. Like . . . no fucking around. We decided to do this for a couple reasons.
1) We knew very few of them would do it ahead of time and, knowing they would be presenting at the end of April, wanted them to have less stress leading up to the actual presentation.
2) We didn't want them to have an unknown variable we, as teachers, had not checked on without lots of prior knowledge before their presentations.
3) We wanted to make sure they weren't going to present shit for their senior exit.
So, long story short, the majority of what was turned in was, in fact, total shit. Even though I repeatedly told them they had to demonstrate at least 15 hours of work. Even though I repeatedly reminded them that failure of the senior exit means it's a no-go on graduation. Even though I repeatedly reminded them that it was also their midterm and a failing midterm grade would make it very difficult to pass English IV, a class needed to graduate.
I sit here asking myself . . . What the fuck is in the head of some of these kids? It's like they go out of their way to sabotage their chance at success.
And I realized . . . They do go out of their way to sabotage their own success. Because they're terrified as fuck of getting out of high school.
Most of them aren't going to college. Their grades suck and they have no money and they don't qualify for scholarships and they're afraid of loans and they don't know about grants. They come from families full of drop outs. They don't know what success fucking looks like.
I had a conversation with my three blocks last week about Trayvon Martin, right? And this lead to a discussion on gun control and what they thought the laws should be. And all of them (except, literally, one student), all said that everyone is entitled to gun ownership and that guns were a necessary part of community and keeping one's self safe. And when I asked them what that meant they told me stories, just incredibly nonchalantly, about seeing people get shot in their neighborhoods in gang retaliations or fucking drunkards on New Year's Eve getting too enthusiastic.
I mean . . . This is their fucking reality. Literally, like, a five minute drive from my apartment they're living this life.
So . . . models of success are not often found. So what is there after high school? A whole lot of uncertainty. And not a whole heck of a lot of hope.
We teachers have discussions about this from time to time. The truth is . . . Some of these kids don't want to leave because they don't have anything else that's secure. They don't have anywhere else to go. At least at school they have friends and a place to sit (or sleep) and a place to eat.
So I get kids who totally ignore my warnings about how important this product is for their grade in my class and for their chances at graduation, kids who turn in a fucking piece of cardboard saying "If weed is so bad why does President Obama smoke it?" and think that that's actually an accurate statement and worthy of . . . anything.
Is it so bad that I just fucking want them to succeed? That I want them to find success at anything? That I fucking want them to graduate? Get that fucking diploma and walk across that goddamn stage so I can fucking make an ass out of myself cheering for them?
And it's like I can't even be that mad at them because they are scared. They're terrified. And they're "thugs" and a few of them have felony charges against them but . . . It's like . . . When one of them smiles because he made my "Team Scholar" List (Saving One Life One A and B At A Time) or is the only person in the room to correctly identify the fragment, or actually argues that "each" means the subject is actually singular and, therefore, needs a singular verb . . . I just fucking want to give them a goddamn hug. Which counteracts how much I want to smack them for being such fucking coward idiots at times.
I didn't go to work today because of The Hunger Games induced vertigo, but I will be back tomorrow. And after they take their essay test we're all going to sit down and have another session of "Real Time Talk With Ms. Kelly" because they need all of this laid out for them. I get that they're scared but . . . Hiding in high school is not a good solution. Taking no pride in their efforts in not a good solution. Failure is not a good solution.
I find myself constantly repeating this phrase in class: "You're doing it wrong." Like . . . "When we're having a debate and you're the only person talking . . . You're doing it wrong." Or . . . "If you have more than ten absences, you're doing it wrong." Or . . . "If you're sleeping while we're reading . . . You're doing it wrong." And god, so many of them are fucking doing it wrong.
But I have about 10 more weeks to get them to fucking do it right and goddamn it. I'm fucking going to succeed.
Well, I do. Teach seniors. And in North Carolina (or, well, maybe not the entire state, but the school district I work in), graduating seniors must do a senior exit project. They write a research paper in English III, when they're juniors, and in English IV, as seniors, they have to create a product that goes along with it and then present everything to a panel of judges. If they fail the senior exit, technically, they don't graduate high school.
So . . . My seniors had their products due last Monday. All of the English IV teachers, actually, made this the due date. And on top of that, we told them the products were also counting as their midterms. A whopping 20% of their semester grade. Like . . . no fucking around. We decided to do this for a couple reasons.
1) We knew very few of them would do it ahead of time and, knowing they would be presenting at the end of April, wanted them to have less stress leading up to the actual presentation.
2) We didn't want them to have an unknown variable we, as teachers, had not checked on without lots of prior knowledge before their presentations.
3) We wanted to make sure they weren't going to present shit for their senior exit.
So, long story short, the majority of what was turned in was, in fact, total shit. Even though I repeatedly told them they had to demonstrate at least 15 hours of work. Even though I repeatedly reminded them that failure of the senior exit means it's a no-go on graduation. Even though I repeatedly reminded them that it was also their midterm and a failing midterm grade would make it very difficult to pass English IV, a class needed to graduate.
I sit here asking myself . . . What the fuck is in the head of some of these kids? It's like they go out of their way to sabotage their chance at success.
And I realized . . . They do go out of their way to sabotage their own success. Because they're terrified as fuck of getting out of high school.
Most of them aren't going to college. Their grades suck and they have no money and they don't qualify for scholarships and they're afraid of loans and they don't know about grants. They come from families full of drop outs. They don't know what success fucking looks like.
I had a conversation with my three blocks last week about Trayvon Martin, right? And this lead to a discussion on gun control and what they thought the laws should be. And all of them (except, literally, one student), all said that everyone is entitled to gun ownership and that guns were a necessary part of community and keeping one's self safe. And when I asked them what that meant they told me stories, just incredibly nonchalantly, about seeing people get shot in their neighborhoods in gang retaliations or fucking drunkards on New Year's Eve getting too enthusiastic.
I mean . . . This is their fucking reality. Literally, like, a five minute drive from my apartment they're living this life.
So . . . models of success are not often found. So what is there after high school? A whole lot of uncertainty. And not a whole heck of a lot of hope.
We teachers have discussions about this from time to time. The truth is . . . Some of these kids don't want to leave because they don't have anything else that's secure. They don't have anywhere else to go. At least at school they have friends and a place to sit (or sleep) and a place to eat.
So I get kids who totally ignore my warnings about how important this product is for their grade in my class and for their chances at graduation, kids who turn in a fucking piece of cardboard saying "If weed is so bad why does President Obama smoke it?" and think that that's actually an accurate statement and worthy of . . . anything.
Is it so bad that I just fucking want them to succeed? That I want them to find success at anything? That I fucking want them to graduate? Get that fucking diploma and walk across that goddamn stage so I can fucking make an ass out of myself cheering for them?
And it's like I can't even be that mad at them because they are scared. They're terrified. And they're "thugs" and a few of them have felony charges against them but . . . It's like . . . When one of them smiles because he made my "Team Scholar" List (Saving One Life One A and B At A Time) or is the only person in the room to correctly identify the fragment, or actually argues that "each" means the subject is actually singular and, therefore, needs a singular verb . . . I just fucking want to give them a goddamn hug. Which counteracts how much I want to smack them for being such fucking coward idiots at times.
I didn't go to work today because of The Hunger Games induced vertigo, but I will be back tomorrow. And after they take their essay test we're all going to sit down and have another session of "Real Time Talk With Ms. Kelly" because they need all of this laid out for them. I get that they're scared but . . . Hiding in high school is not a good solution. Taking no pride in their efforts in not a good solution. Failure is not a good solution.
I find myself constantly repeating this phrase in class: "You're doing it wrong." Like . . . "When we're having a debate and you're the only person talking . . . You're doing it wrong." Or . . . "If you have more than ten absences, you're doing it wrong." Or . . . "If you're sleeping while we're reading . . . You're doing it wrong." And god, so many of them are fucking doing it wrong.
But I have about 10 more weeks to get them to fucking do it right and goddamn it. I'm fucking going to succeed.