It is that time of the year. The time where all of the cliche teacher phrases infiltrate every conversation making small talk worse than ever, if that is even possible.
“Just gotta survive the next few weeks”...”How is it now that our senior class is gone?”...”I just have so much going on”... and my least favorite: “Oh, so you’re a teacher. Psh, I should have done that...summers off!”
Sure, we are all guilty of dropping some of these into our daily conversation at some point while distracting from real, human conversation, but the end of the school year is more than that to me. In teaching nothing but seniors I have grown to appreciate my last couple of weeks of going to school without students because it allows me time to think about my year, create content and structure for the following year, and find some closure while missing my students.
A parent posed a question to me at the beginning of the year that has sat heavy with me. It was: “Do you enjoy teaching seniors? Every class you connect with leaves you...that has to be hard.” I never really thought about it in that way until that moment. Most teachers get to see their students continue to develop in their school career after teaching them, forging connections and re-visiting the “good ole days” while passing in the hallways. Many high school teachers have the opportunity to teach other grade levels, distracting them and driving them to the very end of the year. They get to see them progress, get frequent visits, and continue to inspire new thoughts and conversations as the years roll on. I do not. Every year I get to invest my full self into a class and then send them away, hoping that the emails trickle in and that they stop by so we can talk about college, life, and history over black coffee.
This year’s class definitely held my heart. They were conversationalists, innovators, creative, inspired, academic, altruistic and empathetic. They went on digressions about jackfruit, soup, generational slang, rice production, and loved some morning music but then knew how to flip the switch into go-mode when class began. They tolerated my own insanity and passion while maintaining their own identity. The best thing about the class of 2017 was that they emailed me things they found online that connected with class, they lingered after class to have deeper conversations, they skipped study hall to talk about life with me, and they treated me like a human being. I appreciated that. I appreciated them...and now I have to do it all over again which is not easy. So my advice to you? Don’t teach seniors...and here is why.
Don’t teach seniors if you want to punch your ticket and get out. I would say that you shouldn’t teach at all if you are going to do this, but one thing at a time. Seniors will expose you for the fake you are. They see the work ethic, they have high expectations, they are looking for meaningful connections with content and educators, and they deserve better (as all kids do). I do find that teachers who are not yet confident in their craft struggle most with seniors as the kids will definitely take advantage of the situation. George Couros once stated in one of his conference talks that you should aim to establish a rapport with kids that makes them want to cross a street to have a conversation with you when they see you. I always felt that his view was interesting, but now that I see it, it has been career-changing. Don’t teach them if you aren’t open to real conversation. Don’t teach them if you aren’t willing to be transparent. Don’t teach them if you can’t handle a rough breakup with great classes year after year after year.
This class, my class, has been so fun to get to know. From side conversations to late night emails, from homeroom rants to drawings on the back of the quiz...this class stole my heart and ran with it. Although each class has been unique, this senior year hangover I have now has been something I struggle with.
My hangover is not the normal kind stimulated by a “Woohoo summer is here!” lifestyle, it is rather a… “keep me posted while you are off in the world doing amazing things that I can no longer be witness to” kind of feeling. Although my inbox is full of alumni emails and my days frequently have alumni visits, you will never have that class back in its entirety. That symphony of human interaction when in deep conversation, the shifty eyes panning in unison when you make a corny joke and they don’t know if they should laugh, the emotional dictatorship you have over them when they consider not coming to school or giving half effort but changing their mind because they fear your “I am not mad I am disappointed speech,” and the genuine class-filled chuckling after an odd comment, encounter, or great joke may take a while to earn...but is so rewarding.
When I started teaching, my mentor, Joe Wejman, who had been teaching for a good amount of years put it best. When you stand in front of a class, you are playing a character. As you go from teacher to coach to moderator...students see you in different characters; you are Mr. Gonzalez or Coach Gonzalez. I now feel like the end of a school year is the end of my show, the only difference being that I have a couple of months to do it all over again from the very beginning, tying everything I have into a new class.
As I send off another senior class, it is time to dig deep and focus on what will come of the future. The next class will be a challenge to crack. They will give me a run for my money. They will also change a lot before the year begins, so I look forward to progress, challenge, and cling to hope that this class will allow me to connect with them in the same way that many have.
As I get ready for that, the other day I reached for a box that lay under my desk all year. I fill this box with Thank You notes, drawings kids leave me, emails I print out that make me proud, and trinkets kids leave behind. When I question my abilities, my sanity, or my career path, that box is there and full of amazing things. Our English dept does something cool that provides great closure for a senior year. They let students write thank you notes and then we get them in our mailboxes. I have some that date back to 2009, but I always feel embarrassed to read them due to the candid appreciation students show. I end my year humbled by them, inspired by them, warm from their appreciation, and thankful for their presence in my life, because there is no class that I would rather teach than a senior class. One day I hope they see what an impact those words can have on people they have worked with. But now, it is time to get the innovative juices flowing and prepare for a new show with a new crowd.
Cheers to the next act…
Mr. G
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