You are here...
I am a middle school teacher.
That statement is generally met with one of two reactions. The, “How crazy do you have to be to do that job?” face, or the, “We should really throw you a parade, oh hero of society!” response. Neither is deserved. Two years ago I would have given anyone the same reaction. Had you informed me then that I would be doing this job I would have, at best, laughed in your face. Now I realize I have the best job in the world. So what changed? How did I go from being repulsed by the idea of teaching middle school to being thankful every day for the opportunity? The answer is simple…I met them.
Middle school kids have a stigma attached to them. They are dramatic, hormonal, disrespectful, loud, and a number of other negatively perceived adjectives, right? Who would want to teach them? Who would choose to spend the majority of their waking hours with these irrational humans? The thing is, like many misunderstood groups, these kids do not deserve this stigma they cannot seem to escape. Are they dramatic and hormonal? Sometimes. Disrespectful? Occasionally. Loud? Always! Okay, most of the time. Do they deserve to be defined by those adjectives? Not at all. My students are amazing. They are bright, creative, energetic, and kind. They are loyal and strong. They welcome my ridiculous simulations, projects, and opportunities to act out historic events, with open arms. They ask for advice and actually listen to the answer. They listen. Even when you don’t think they are. They are trying to figure out who they are and where they fit in society. And, sadly, they know what you think of them. Or what the general population thinks anyway. They know. And because they know, they often choose to make themselves fit those stereotypes. However, given the opportunity, they will show you the best of themselves. Their beauty. Their creative thought. Their insecurities. Their plans for the future. Their desire to make the world better. You just have to be willing to listen.
I allow students to write on my white board. Most of the time my board is filled with little cartoons or notes about how “cool” I am (I am not now, nor have I EVER been, “cool” by the way) or how much they love me. It is sweet and always makes my day. However, you will also find something else scrawled between their drawings and notes. It is all over the place. Sometimes in tiny print, sometimes large and circled so that nobody can miss it, “ (insert name) was here.” Sarah was here. Rachel was here. Cade was here. Dillon was here. It’s everywhere. They were here. When I first saw this I didn’t understand it. You’re here. Okay I get it. You’re here, he’s here, she’s here, we’re all here. I see you. You’re standing right in front of me. But that’s just it. They are trying to figure out who they are and where they fit, but they feel like nobody really sees them. They feel trapped by stigma and stereotypes, and weighed down by their own insecurity. They are kids trying to become adults. They’re stuck in that awkward middle stage. And they just want someone to see them, to listen to them, and to care. They don’t want to be alone and they don’t want to be forgotten. They were here. They ARE here.
I am writing this blog to tell you their stories. To introduce them to you, if you will. And to give you a small glimpse into the life of a middle school teacher. Some of the stories will make you laugh, some will make you cry, others will break your heart and possibly make you want to adopt them all (maybe that’s just me?). My hope is that it will help you see them, know they are here, and have some hope for our future. I see it every day, and it is bright.
So, without further ado, I introduce to you my kids. And in case any of you are my students who happened to have stumbled across this blog, be sure of two things…
1. I’m changing everyone’s names so this will be anonymous, don’t worry.
2. I see you. You are here.
- KL
