A letter to my new students

I really love teaching high school seniors.

Although I’ve taught just about every grade and level of high school English over the past 35 years, in recent years, my teaching career has landed in a spot that seems to fit me just right: ELA 12. For my students, I’m one of their last stops in high school and not only does my class become one of their last chances to boost critical literacy skills, but it’s also a kind of a boot-camp for the future.

What do seniors in high school need to be successful? How can I use my time with them to help them to become more effective readers, writers and thinkers? How can I help boost their curiosity about the world and just as importantly, their confidence to navigate it effectively? These are the kinds of questions I ask myself every year around this time.

This week, I decided to think about these questions and prepare for my new students by re-reading the ‘Letters of Reflection’ written by last year’s seniors about their time in my class. My idea was that after reading those letters (more than 100 in all) I might have fresh in my mind what worked and what didn’t; what my students found meaningful and inspiring; challenging or redundant; tedious or fun.

This letter to my new students was informed by the thoughtful insights of my former students and although I probably won’t share it with my new students, I hope it to be a kind of reminder to myself—and maybe other high school English teachers—that with good intentions, empathy and a little wisdom, good things can happen in our classrooms.

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Dear Student,

I know we’re strangers today. In fact, I don’t even know your name yet. I promise, though, that in the days ahead I will know it—or your favorite nickname—and that I will be that annoying teacher who says hi to you by name every time I see you in the hall, or down by the soccer field or at the pizza place I go to to most days for lunch. After all these years of doing this job, I understand that knowing your name—the one you like to go by—and pronouncing it correctly is the very first step in knowing you. And, I really want to do that.

And, speaking of knowing each other—whether you want to or not, over the course of the year, you’re probably going to hear a bunch of little stories about my life and experiences. I’ll try not to bore you to death, but as we talk about literature and life, world events and the future, this class is going to get personal. I am going to urge you to connect personally to the stories we’re reading, the events we’re exploring and to each other. Why? Because this is how we humans learn best. By making personal connections to our work, you are more likely to find meaning in what we’re doing. Not only will I model this for you, but I promise to let my guard down as we go, to be more human than teacher when the moment calls for it. My core belief about this job is that within every single class, every single year, there is the potential for a little magic—an exchange, really—in which we are all just human beings exploring language and ideas together and that I am just as likely as you are to be altered forever by that exchange. 

And, this is not to say that it will smooth sailing all the way. Despite my best efforts to be sensitive to you and thoughtful about our work, I will screw up. I will say something that rubs you the wrong way. Or, as last year students reminded me, I will give you a close reading quiz that is ‘totally ridiculous and unfair’ or a seminar that is one day too long or a writing assignment that takes up your whole damn weekend. At some point, I may seem too demanding and seem to forget that you have other stuff going on besides our senior English class. I will probably ask you to write more than you want to, and worse, ask you to rewrite more than you want to. You might think it’s too much and will probably feel frustrated and maybe even angry at me. I will just say this: My goal is to meet you where you are as a writer and to try to help you become better at it. This is almost always grueling work and if it feels like it’s too much, it is probably just about right.

And, speaking of the work—although you swear you really don’t like reading and haven’t enjoyed a book in school since 7th grade, you are going to read at least one book this year that you love. Yes, love. It might not be the one that everyone else loves, but I promise you that at least one of the books that we read together this year will speak to you and will land deep in your brain—and in your heart—as one of your favorite books of all time. Why am I so sure about this? Because you have never been as ready as you are at this very moment (yes, read that again) to read and truly understand a literary work and this year you will be reading incredible books that were chosen specifically for their artfulness and their ability to make you feel and think. (I see you shaking your head no at this prediction, but just you wait.)

I should also warn you that, over the course of the school year, you will probably feel uncomfortable or maybe even mad as hell during at least one of our class discussions or seminars. Sometimes we will discuss things that you’ve never discussed in school before or be asked to research a position that you really don’t agree with or you might even feel as if your beliefs are being challenged. Learning and growing can be downright uncomfortable. And guess what—it’s okay. Feeling uncomfortable is one of the most tangible signs that you are being exposed to something new, something that challenges you and makes you think from another perspective. There will be times when you are excited about the topic and other times when you are completely annoyed or bored. The bottom line: you will be asked to engage fully in the work, even when you don’t like the topic. Year after year, my former students tell me that it is in these times that they felt like they learned the most.

The good news: They also told me that they loved the way we learned vocabulary (hopefully, you will too) and when we we took a Friday off to play Scattegories or Literary Trivia. They valued the conversations we had in class about life after high school and the way we began class with a short meditation. They liked that I was interested in what they were doing outside of school and that I didn’t worry too much if the conversation strayed away from our topic, especially when everyone was involved.

The last thing I’ll say is that I will make sure that our English class is a place where you are given the time and support to do some the hard things you have to do, even if they have nothing to do with my class. I understand deeply that the fall of your senior year is a uniquely stressful time. You are making important decisions about your future and you can’t seem to shake this nagging feeling that everyone else has their act together and you really don’t have a clue of what you’re doing. As you navigate this challenging time, I promise to be in your corner, to help you manage the tasks and the stress of this moment and to remind you that you got this. Because, guess what—you do. Trust me, I’ve been doing this for a long time.

With love,

Ms. Caines