When I was a junior in high school, I played a minor character named Charlotte Sowerberry in the play Oliver. In one scene, the stage directions of the play had me throwing a glass of water at another character's face who meddled with the business of all of the other characters on stage. Lisa, the girl who played that character, was a bit of a busy-body herself in "real" life. She always had an opinion. The role she played on stage was perfect for her, and many would have agreed she deserved every drop of the water I pretended to throw in her face. Of course, we used a small amount of water so she barely got wet--that is, except for one day. The day of "fun practice" was always a day or two before opening night. The directors, Miss White and Mr. Titone, wanted us to get the kinks out. We were silly, messed up lines on purpose, played pranks on each other, etc. Anything was fair game. The goal was to learn how to react in case something crazy happened during the actual show and to have a little fun in the process. Prior to the practice, many of my friends in the cast encouraged me to fill the glass up with water to throw in Lisa's face. "I can't do that," I said, thinking it would be so mean to get a glass of water in my face. Yet, pressure got the best of me, and I filled up that glass with water. When it came time for my line, I threw the water right in her face. Lisa gasped in shock and then started to laugh as water dripped down her face and mascara created lines that traveled from her eyes to her cheeks. Those looking on--including Miss White and Mr. Titone--laughed uncontrollably. "I didn't think you had that in you," Miss White told me afterwards. "I'm proud of you."
Those simple words of validation made me feel good in the moment. Yet, when I think back on that moment, it was a pretty mean joke to play on someone. I'm not proud I did it at all. I suppose I threw that glass of water in Lisa's face to feel validated because so many in my friend circle told me it would be funny. Yet, in retrospect, it was the wrong kind of validation, as it was based on what others thought about me. I now would love to tell my seventeen year old self that we never should base our own feelings on those of others to feel good about ourselves. In the right moment, everybody needs to feel validated in life, though. I read something recently that speaks to this: "You need that one person who comes up beside you and validates you, tells you you're not crazy and that they too want to fly away sometimes. Otherwise, you forget gravity is something you're supposed to go up against." How many times have I found myself up against gravity and someone is there to validate my feelings, show acceptance to where I am? How many times have I done the same for others?
In this pandemic in particular, I have found validation numerous times in my classroom. I continuously solicit feedback from you, my students, not necessarily to feel validated but to keep me in check. After all, teaching in a pandemic is drastically different than anything I've done in my 22-year career. I always appreciate the honesty I receive from each student survey; you often tell me what's not working (my microphone) or what you absolutely can't live without in my classroom (independent reading, games, and outside time when it's warmer). The most recent surveys greatly validated the effort I had put into every assignment until I got to those from my seniors. Now, keep in mind, this is my second year teaching you; we have a relationship that I would consider open with each other. You know how I feel about your writing, study habits, etc. I've written most of your letters of recommendation. This time, I definitely received a dose of honesty. While many seniors validated my teaching of Theory of Knowledge, some of them did not. In reading the surveys, I felt like I had let them down; I felt like I had failed my students. Perhaps, in a way, I felt like Lisa receiving that full glass of water in her face. It was a wake up call to see what really wasn't working in the class, to see that the experience I had given other seniors in the past six years was not present in theirs. I didn't know what to do or how to fix it aside from feeling terrible that I had let them down. So, I started by sending them a message apologizing.
What I received back was something I did not expect. Messages came from many of my seniors: "You're teaching in a pandemic..."
"You're one of the few teachers who has a positive attitude."
"You say hi to every student every day. I can say you're my only teacher that does that."
Validation. I was not anticipating them to validate my feelings, but somehow they brought me up and raised my spirits to believe that I, in fact, could go up against gravity even if there were things I needed to change about the teaching in my classroom. Of course, their validation does not make their honesty go away. I still have things I need to work on in teaching in a pandemic. And that's okay. We all have things to work on every day. These students were able to validate the things that are working while also showing me what wasn't. In life we need to balance the truth with those moments of validation.
The need to be validated in a pandemic--whether we're teaching or learning in it--is so necessary. We need to continue to build each other up; learning in a pandemic is just as hard as teaching in one. So, I want to end by validating you, my students. To the juniors, you made me most proud recently in your mock trial. Instead of saying that we couldn't do an assignment like this, you embraced it. So, when it came time to put Antigone on trial in our classroom, you made it happen whether you were an attorney virtually arguing your case on zoom or the bailiff swearing everyone in by emphasizing the word "truth." You brought levity to an intense book while simultaneously showing me learning could be fun--even in a pandemic.
And to my seniors, I think sometimes I forget how much you've lost--no spring sports last year, no junior prom, not a single senior pep rally, no senior section of the rage cage. I know sometimes I can be critical of your decreasing motivation otherwise known as "senioritis," but you have shown me so much grit and perseverance--more than any other class. You are making the best of a difficult situation. You've had the glass of water thrown in your face, but it doesn't matter. You're overcoming and surviving and succeeding and persevering. For that, I see you. I hear you. I validate you.
Know that I intend to make changes in my classroom. After all, I sought feedback so that I could do just that. Honesty is a good thing even if it sometimes is hard to swallow. Yet, everyone also deserves to be validated. So, the next time you find someone else up against gravity, ask yourself what you can do to validate their feelings. The next time you go to throw that glass of water in the face of another, ask yourself if you are seeking validation for yourself for the right reasons. What I've learned recently from all of you is the value of honesty combined with validation is a beautiful thing. We may be up against gravity in this pandemic, but remember, we are never, ever alone.
