Rose-Colored Glasses and Other Cliche Objects Through Which to View the Year

As I sit here in a fancy downtown coffee shop, drinking my pretty espresso drink (shout-out to my girl/fave barista Allison for free coffee--how else can I afford this costly musing?), it's easy to think back on the semester, and even on the year, with only tenderness for the sweet kids in the classes I've taught.  While this might be somewhat true (I could think of a couple of students that I would describe as "sweet"), that's really not what my experience has been.  And you know what?  I'm not looking for that.  If I was, I should probably teach rich four-year-olds in a Montessori school, and that's totally antithetical to my entire existence.

For example, my students have done/said the following:
-made a lot of fart noises when they realize that I'm taping them
-said, "Miss, I found a book about your anus" while holding a library book about Uranus
-said lots of other gross things when they thought I couldn't hear them/didn't think I would understand
-braided lots of hair instead of working on assignments
-not had anything to write with 60% of the time

While they can be endearing and frustrating at the same time, I've come to realize that my students from this semester are actually people who think deeply and have entire worlds inside of themselves.  I think that the danger of reading so many articles about education and being in classes about pedagogy rather than actually teaching can cause us to think of students as objects to be manipulated rather than real human beings who act of their own accord. This semester was definitely helpful for redressing those tendencies.  My last classes of teaching were centered on a poetry reading/celebration time, and I had some doubts about whether some students would actually turn in meaningful poems to share.  While there were a few who didn't turn in anything at all, I was pleasantly surprised by a few students--they created poems full of struggle, epiphany, and exploration.

Perhaps even more revealing of their peoplehood was when they read their poems out loud to the class.  I shared a poem that I had written in college to get them going, in case they felt embarrassed (I've realized that opening myself up to them is probably the best way to motivate them to do real work).  And they blew me away with what they were willing to share with the class, and how they were willing to support each other by listening.  My CT made copies of all of their original poems, printed them on cardstock, and gave each student a stack of their own poems to give out that day (Poem in Your Pocket day).  I returned home with two back pockets full of poems they wanted me to have, and I kept them in there the whole day.  (I'm pretty sure some fell out at Target later that afternoon--spreading the gift of poetry!)  I left that day with a bit of sadness but with a renewed sense of understanding and purpose in teaching.  This is what it's all for--giving people of all ages an opportunity to use their voices to come together to create meaning.  Oh, and to create fart noises.