Today, my students said some of the most darnest things.
Let's start with the thesis statement from a student's paper answering this prompt: "How do you feel the roles of men and women differ in our society? Do you believe that these roles should stay the same or change?"
He wrote: "Men do most of the hard work, such as carpentry and offshore drilling, but women do just a much as we do." I laughed because of the incredible specificity of offshore drilling as a predominant trait that says, "Yes, I am a man." He went on to write, "Women take care of household duties such as looking after kids, grocery shopping, taking care of husbands, cooking, cleaning and working. Men do not do as much. We work hard but when we get home all we want to do is have fun, eat, and sleep. I know our women are tired of our actions."
I have noticed a common thread in the writing of my students over the past three years: by and large, they admire their mothers deeply. They see them as bastions of strength and resilience and inpenetrablility. Wow. I admire these women vicariously when I read such words.
Another quote: during last period, the smart kid with dreads said: "Ms. Nelson, what's the point of doing anything, if not for a ticket?" I was overwhelmed with the philosophical weight of such a question. There are reasons and motives for working hard and not for an immediate, tangible reward that amounts to something. And surely, as a brainy and creative kid, he must know that thinking and creating is satisfying in itself, with no external imput at all.
I really want to read "Our America" with my students next semester. I don't want to repeat the books I've been doing any longer...they're getting old and unstimulating to me. Cost/benefit: put work into my work outside of work, and enjoy work more while I'm there, or enjoy not working outside of work and enjoy work (far?) less while on the clock. Hmm.
As I handed back essays today, I remembered the deep impact Erin Hawes, my Production Ensemble theater teacher in 12th grade, had on me when she wrote extended responses to my acting/character journals during the production "The Crucible." She said no matter what I do, I need to write. Oh, I wish I could look back over those papers. But they're gone, along with most of my artifacts from yesteryear. One teacher's written comment alone is enough to serve as the pilot light to my furnace. I will remain driven to write for the rest of my days. No matter what I do.
May I kindle my students' passions likewise, and not overlook them or respond so minimally that I miss an opportunity to encourage. Look how long the power of Ms. Hawes' one sentence has resonated with me: five, going on six years.
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