Graduate

In all the pain, fear, and frustration I've been consumed with this past week, to stop the crying, I forced myself to focus on some light in the darkness. There is more to be said, of Trevon and students like him, but took my big bro’s advice of giving myself 30min to write and publish.
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“Ms. Sara you didn’t hate us, you just hated how much you loved us” - Trevon Stanford, HS graduate!
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You’d enter class like a tornado

You’d sit in class like…correction,

You’d roam class like a nomad

You’d participate in class like an entertainer

And you’d exit class begging for one more chance, knowing very well I’d cave.

You’d leave me frustrated – not with you but with me. 

You’d leave me exhausted

You’d leave me ready to quit

But ultimately, you’d leave me inspired…

Because sometimes you’d slip

Sometimes those sparks of genius would flicker

Sometimes the personas of leadership would grab hold

Sometimes your walls of protection would crack

And then sometimes, your vulnerability to feel successful would seep out

But they didn’t see you how we saw you

They saw you as a square peg not fitting into their round hole

They saw you as a problem not to be fixed but forgotten

They saw you as a list of steps to show yourself out.

Then you chose to leave, despite our plea

You said, I need to go where no one knows me

You said, don’t worry I got this

You said, I promise, just wait and see

A year went by and you pushed on

Another two years went by and you kept on pushing

Today your sparks of genius cannot be extinguished

Today your personas of leadership are your truth

Today you know success, steadfast on the future 

Today you graduated

And today, like you did back then, you leave me – and all of us who know you – INSPIRED.

Your energy is my energy. My energy is your energy.

It’s 12:40pm, the high pitch whistles of security reverberate through the halls as the student body clears out of the courtyard from lunch, up the stairwells, and into their 8^th period classes. Unlike most days this past year, I was not ready for the 30+ students about to enter our classroom.  I was not standing at the door with a smile eagerly awaiting to greet them. Instead, I had placed a stool in the doorway to keep the door open (eventually asking a student to hold the door open) while I stood at my desk, frantically finishing whatever I was in the middle of.  As per usual though, a slide with the class’ opening activity (or “bell ringer” as my school refers to it), was projected onto my not-so-smart-anymore smart board. However, despite the normalcy of the classroom’s learning expectations and routines, the majority of the students dawdled around the room either engrossed in the latest social media post, thoroughly engaged in their hallway conversation/gossip, or a combination of both.  A handful of students bombarded me at my desk, as I barked orders for the class to settle down, open their notebooks, and begin their bell ringer.  In the midst of the chaos, I noticed the sassiness of a student and felt her aggravated energy.  At the uttering of an under the breath comment followed by laying her head down on the table – a clear sign of rebellion and thus disengagement – still from my desk, I called her name and requested a conversation.  When she arrived at my desk, now cleared of all students except her, I innocently and sincerely asked “What’s going on? I can tell something seems to be up.” Boldface she responded “It’s you. It’s your energy! Normally you are at the door greeting us with a smile and excitement to learn, but today you’re here, at your desk, yelling at us to settle down.”

She stopped me in my tracks.  Her response was the last thing I had anticipated her to say, knowing she had recently experienced some issues with other students trying to bait her into unwanted drama.  But her response was exactly what I needed to hear. It gave me pause. I took a deep breath in and out, not out of infuriation with her, but to focus on and calm the frantic energy within; she was right.  I then responded to her, “you’re right. But look around the room and notice what’s going on, here’s how you can help me…” I proceeded to ask for her assistance in encouraging her classmates to settle into the classroom routines and expectations, readying themselves to engage in learning.  And so, she did. With one more deep breath in and out, I followed behind greeting each grouping of students with a smile and a new sense of energy.

If You Can't Beat Them, Join Them.

My students have the natural tendency to tag anything in sight. In years past I used to scrub away all markings, despite the content... until I took the time to look at what I was erasing. With the exception of some inappropriate tags or notes to 'follow me' on Snapchat, most were the names of and messages to loved ones who have left this world or locked up.  It was only then that I realized by ridding the tables of their tags, I was in some way also silencing their voices.

At that point I decided I was going to 'lean in' and not only allowed but encouraged my students to leave their mark. However, I quickly found the tables (and clipboards) covered only in sentiments that focused heavily on loss and pain. I wondered, how could we use the tables to not only remember but honor their loved ones? How can we find and foster hope and motivation from the loss and pain? So I began to add some of my own tags: "You are Beautiful!" "You are a mathematician" "SMILE 😀" ... and then during one class, while helping a group of students with a problem, decided to use the table as my writing surface. Since then, students have joined in - still adding sentiments towards those they love and miss but also adding their own motivational sayings or proofs of math knowledge.

Our classroom tables have become living artifacts. They capture the voices and narratives of my students, both as individuals and as a family unit.

#IfYouCantBeatThemJoinThem #MiamiAlgebraProject #Room3076 #StudentVoice #UnconventionalStoryTelling #NoneOfUsIsAsStrongAsAllOfUs!