Taking a day off in the middle of the week conjures up memories of my own HS days. I was a habitual skipper. My friend Bonnie lived right across the creek from the school, and we would routinely slink off around lunch time to eat PBJ's and watch The Young and the Restless. We'd make it back in time for last-period Chemistry. Why no one questioned our wet sneakers, I'll never know.
Someone should have asked.
I got decent grades, but they could have been much, much better. I got by, dialed it in, did the bare minimum, skimmed under the radar, didn't get caught, and got my diploma. Ha! Victory!
But it was fleeting and hollow. I lasted two years at my first college; admissions officers suggested I could return when I wanted to actually attend classes. My priorities didn't match those of my teachers; my social life was far more interesting than their subject matter. I wasn't ready to take what they had to offer. In fact, I can't recall the name of a single professor at the institution. I can only remember a handful of teachers from my high school, for that matter.
Fast forward thirty years. You must appreciate the irony, as I am now the educator in the story. I teach many wonderful, dedicated, curious students. Working with them is joyful and rewarding -- a true labor of love. Some of these dear students have a special place in my heart, and I'll never forget them.
I also deal with a few students who don't care, students who don't know how to care, and students who don't think anyone cares for them. That's a labor of love, too. At times, they rattle me, bring me to tears and make me question the validity of my career choice. I'll never forget them, either. Contrary to what they may think, I care deeply for them, too.
Maybe they're not ready to receive what I have to offer. Maybe I'm not the one they want to receive it from. I feel certain that when they are ready, their teacher will appear. Until then, we are here, in this place, together. And while I'm fairly certain that they'd just as soon not have me around, I have a job to do.
I'm here to teach all students to be discerning users of information so that they can make positive contributions to society. That's all students -- not just the ones who are easy to work with. That means holding all students accountable, making them do the work, keeping them on task. It means asking about the late assignment, the bloodshot eyes or the angry glares.
It's my job to ask about the wet sneakers.
