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- 10 Ways to Teach Like Ted Lasso: Part I - March 12, 2021
- The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teachers: Habit 3 - First Things First - February 26, 2021
When the end of the year comes around, we teachers like to take that last snapshot of our classroom and the wonderful contents in it. Sometimes we get more than we bargain for; sometimes tears are shed. This is their story. And damn them for making me cry.
[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent="yes" overflow="visible"][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type="1_1" background_position="left top" background_color="" border_size="" border_color="" border_style="solid" spacing="yes" background_image="" background_repeat="no-repeat" padding="" margin_top="0px" margin_bottom="0px" class="" id="" animation_type="" animation_speed="0.3" animation_direction="left" hide_on_mobile="no" center_content="no" min_height="none"]And damn them for making me cry. Click To Tweet
- On the first day of my first year of school, you defied my icebreaker game because you said "it wasn't in the syllabus;" you were right, and I had to accept that. Since then, you became a stalwart in my class and visited everyday. Years later, you send me a message of gratitude at least once a year that shows how we grew together rather than at odds with one another. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- It seemed like an eon (and another set of rules) ago, but it was great to work out at the gym together. It was great watching you morph from a puny freshman into a champion weight lifter. When you sent me a pic with your first trophy, I couldn't say anything in response. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- When I first met you as a 14-year-old, you made it so I had to look up to you and your 6'6" frame. You lived a fast life, and even in your passing, I can still hear your nasally "hello" as you would enter my classroom. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- You couldn't score anything less than a 100% on any test, quiz, or homework assignment I'd ever assigned. I caught you cheating on the final test (you were helping a friend), and when I called home, your mom told me that you'd accept any punishment. The next day, you came in with true apology and no change in motivation. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- You lost your entire family in a car accident and came to school the next day. You said, "Mr. Miller, I just want to hangout with you for the day." Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- I taught the three of you for 3 classes in the course of 2 years. I watched you become such upstanding mock trial lawyers that we took our mock trial to the 2nd highest court in the state and had actual judges listen to your questioning and testimony. Afterward, they stood and gave you a standing ovation. Now you're all working on your law degrees. Damn you, kids, for making me cry.
- The year I almost quit teaching, I actually was sick to my stomach just from coming to school. I thought I sucked at the job and had trouble with many facets of my life. But you wouldn't leave my classroom, because you said this was the "only time in your life you felt comfortable to participate in anything in your life." Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- At the beginning of the school year, you told me I better give up on you because you "hate social studies and suck at it." At the end of the year, you asked if I could help you become a social studies teacher. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- The class with the best fully accepting environment began as one I didn't want to teach. But I put the control in your hands, and you developed pedagogy that I stole from you. In this class was the future prom king, prom queen, salutatorian, stars of the musical, a business entrepreneur, the star of the orchestra, a student who'd co-write a play with me, six Scholastic Gold medal writers, and one heckuva bond. Damn you, class, for making me cry.
- You suffered a traumatic brain injury and just felt at home in my room, so you came often, especially after our last period class. The last day of school, you embraced me strongly and let your tears spill into my shoulder. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- When your counselor was out for the year and you struggled with personal and school things, you knew you could pop in my room to talk anytime I was free. Your smile of gratitude I see in your face each time is worth more than any gift. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- We sarcastically joke with one another. All. The. Time. For the last 2 years, there's been a dry comment - every day. But not that you've graduated. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- When I taught you 4 years ago, you remembered that I said you could be the valedictorian. And you were. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- You said I'm the reason you want to be a teacher. You don't tell me, but you send me gifts in the mail all the time. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- You lost your father this year. You found yourself in the midst of many fights. You struggled with your reading almost as much as your home life. But you handled it all better than anybody ever could - including me. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
- When I shook your hand on the last day of school, I told you that I hope my son turns out to be like you. Damn you, kid, for making me cry.
When you accept your diploma on stage and move on to the next chapter of your life, you know I'll be there. When you rack up the accomplishments, both personally and Damn you, kid, for making me proud.