In T minus 3 sleeps I will begin another year of teaching. This year marks number 17. I can't believe that it has been that long since I first stepped into a classroom of my own. I remember how nervous I was being hired on the night before school started. It seems like so long ago, yet in many regards it is still so fresh and new.
I still get those first day of school jitters. I haven't been able to sleep well in the last week and I am sure that it is due to my mind reeling with what I want this year to look like. What I want to accomplish. What I hope to inspire in my students.
My room is ready. The physical needs have been met with a few days of prepping and help from my mom and dad who are expert movers when it comes to unpacking boxes. The bulletin boards are color coordinated and the books are neatly on the bookshelf, for now. The walls are ready for the work of those who will inhabit this space with me. The walls are waiting to be covered in things far more colorful and creative than bulletin board paper.
You see, my love is writing. I know shocking I am sure. I will pause for you to catch your breath...
Each year as new students enter my room I try to encourage them to find something that for many they have never experienced. I ask them to discover facets about themselves that they didn't know even existed. I implore them to ponder about and express their thoughts differently than many have ever been asked to do. As the year goes on I help them to carve out their voice. A voice that so desperately wants to be heard but is often overlooked because of their age and our society.
In a world so filled with the written word being texted, tweeted, and splashed across every major news outlet, many students don't know how to voice how they really feel about things that matter. They barely know how to tread water in the world of words to express things that perhaps have grieved them for some time. They can talk, sure, but to write they often struggle. To get down on paper the needs of an essay? The are often filled with shock and fear. Their bodies get fidgety and their minds wander. They sometimes have an overwhelming urge to need to use the rest room.....often. These are what the students usually feel.
For some this is not the case. They are already accomplished writers by the time I meet them. Those who writing comes easy to are similar to those students who teach themselves how to play the guitar on their own. I have taught those children, but they are a select few.
Instead, I find my classroom filled with students who participate in every known extracurricular activity nightly, but can't write a complete sentence about what they did the night before at such an activity. They know how to tell their families and friends what they are thinking, but often to write is so much harder.
It seems an insurmountable task. It is too hard and they don't know where to start. So that is where I come in. That is what I love. Taking those students who HATE to write and having them realize that writing is just like talking. I actually even ask my students...
"How many of you HATE to write?"
When the hands timidly find themselves in the air I triumphantly reply, "YES!!! We are going to have fun this year!"
They are often shocked at this response and some wryly smile and realize I am not like the rest. We do things differently in my room. We actually learn how to be writers. Writers who can tell a story or ask a question. Writers who are proud of what they create regardless of length or prior ability. We all learn at our own pace, writing ability, and we celebrate those accomplishments.
We write songs and stories, letters and articles. We research things that interest us and read other authors' styles. We write to authors about the books they have written and ask them why they did what they did in the hopes of helping us to be better writers in the future. We critique each other's pieces and encourage our peers. We talk to each other as writers because that is what we are practicing to be.
At the end of the year, my hope is that each student in my care will find their voice. A voice that will help them to relate to the world around them. A voice that can honestly, respectfully, and creatively communicate their wants, needs, and desires with those around them. A voice that is a little bit or a lot stronger than when I heard it the first time in August.
All of us want to be heard. All of us want to feel valued for what we feel, believe, and love. Our voice is what opens that door for us. Have you found yours?
I still get those first day of school jitters. I haven't been able to sleep well in the last week and I am sure that it is due to my mind reeling with what I want this year to look like. What I want to accomplish. What I hope to inspire in my students.
My room is ready. The physical needs have been met with a few days of prepping and help from my mom and dad who are expert movers when it comes to unpacking boxes. The bulletin boards are color coordinated and the books are neatly on the bookshelf, for now. The walls are ready for the work of those who will inhabit this space with me. The walls are waiting to be covered in things far more colorful and creative than bulletin board paper.
You see, my love is writing. I know shocking I am sure. I will pause for you to catch your breath...
Each year as new students enter my room I try to encourage them to find something that for many they have never experienced. I ask them to discover facets about themselves that they didn't know even existed. I implore them to ponder about and express their thoughts differently than many have ever been asked to do. As the year goes on I help them to carve out their voice. A voice that so desperately wants to be heard but is often overlooked because of their age and our society.
In a world so filled with the written word being texted, tweeted, and splashed across every major news outlet, many students don't know how to voice how they really feel about things that matter. They barely know how to tread water in the world of words to express things that perhaps have grieved them for some time. They can talk, sure, but to write they often struggle. To get down on paper the needs of an essay? The are often filled with shock and fear. Their bodies get fidgety and their minds wander. They sometimes have an overwhelming urge to need to use the rest room.....often. These are what the students usually feel.
For some this is not the case. They are already accomplished writers by the time I meet them. Those who writing comes easy to are similar to those students who teach themselves how to play the guitar on their own. I have taught those children, but they are a select few.
Instead, I find my classroom filled with students who participate in every known extracurricular activity nightly, but can't write a complete sentence about what they did the night before at such an activity. They know how to tell their families and friends what they are thinking, but often to write is so much harder.
It seems an insurmountable task. It is too hard and they don't know where to start. So that is where I come in. That is what I love. Taking those students who HATE to write and having them realize that writing is just like talking. I actually even ask my students...
"How many of you HATE to write?"
When the hands timidly find themselves in the air I triumphantly reply, "YES!!! We are going to have fun this year!"
They are often shocked at this response and some wryly smile and realize I am not like the rest. We do things differently in my room. We actually learn how to be writers. Writers who can tell a story or ask a question. Writers who are proud of what they create regardless of length or prior ability. We all learn at our own pace, writing ability, and we celebrate those accomplishments.
We write songs and stories, letters and articles. We research things that interest us and read other authors' styles. We write to authors about the books they have written and ask them why they did what they did in the hopes of helping us to be better writers in the future. We critique each other's pieces and encourage our peers. We talk to each other as writers because that is what we are practicing to be.
At the end of the year, my hope is that each student in my care will find their voice. A voice that will help them to relate to the world around them. A voice that can honestly, respectfully, and creatively communicate their wants, needs, and desires with those around them. A voice that is a little bit or a lot stronger than when I heard it the first time in August.
All of us want to be heard. All of us want to feel valued for what we feel, believe, and love. Our voice is what opens that door for us. Have you found yours?
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