Having Resolution--My New Year's Resolution

Having Resolution--My New Year's Resolution

     I recently taught my favorite but perhaps the most underrated and undervalued punctuation mark--the dash--to my IB juniors. I'm seeing that dash creep into their writing more and more--and I love it! I joke with my students that Parenthetical Dash would be my band name if I ever quit my day job and formed my own band. For those of you truly curious about this, I have not a single musical bone in my body, but a girl can dream. My students have learned that the dash--if used appropriately--can add personality and voice to any piece of writing. Yet, this punctuation mark also has become slightly metaphorical for me. Allow me to explain.

     Almost two years ago, I found myself in a famous cemetery in New Orleans, Louisiana. I was supposed to be taking pictures in a street photography course (and I did as evidenced below), but my mind began to wander as I considered the people buried in the famous cemetery.

Tombstones are fascinating to me, as they can tell a lot about a person by the names, the epitaph, and the dates they lived. Forgetting my task of photographing the cemetery entirely, I started to make up stories in my head about the people etched on the tombstones--because what else would an English teacher do in a cemetery? And I began to think about the fact that those two dates on the tombstone--the date of birth and death--are not really important. Rather, it’s the dash in between that matters. That small dash represents our life and all that we did, all that we said, all the people we impacted, those we hurt. What we choose to do with that dash is up to us.
     
This moment of how we live that dash reminds me of one of my students I taught. The biggest lesson this student has taught me is how to live that dash in moments of determination and resolution.

     At the end of the year, my students are required to deliver a ten minute literary presentation as part of their IB assessment. Oral presentations were not this student's idea of "fun" in my class. While we practiced throughout the year, I knew that he would not be comfortable in front of the class for ten minutes. I understood this discomfort because I despise public speaking, myself. As he stood at the podium, he somehow couldn't find the words to begin. I asked him to step outside, and I followed him into the hallway. He sat on the floor as tears welled in his eyes, telling me that he couldn't give his presentation. I quietly began to reaffirm the idea that he could, in fact, give this presentation, yet he wasn't buying in to what I was saying. Finally, I looked at him and got serious. "Do you know the secret to giving an oral presentation?" I asked him. This seemed a bit hypocritical considering my own fear of public speaking, but I knew I had to find a way to get him to give his presentation. He looked up at me. "You just have to know your first line," I said. "Do you know your first line?" The boy slowly nodded his head and uttered the first line of his presentation. "Good. Now I want you to say that line over and over again because if you can remember the first line, you can remember the next line and the line after that and the one after that. I promise you they'll come to you." I left him out in the hallway for a little longer to practice that first line. 

     When he was ready, he came into the classroom and stood behind the podium. Before he could utter his first line, there was a reaffirmation from someone on the side of the room, "You got this." Another came: "You can do it." I loved the spontaneous positive reinformcement his peers were giving him, but I feared he would forget his first line. But he didn't. He said that line and many more afterwards. The class gave him the biggest round of applause when he was finished. I sat at my desk, unable to grade the presentation because I had goosebumps. I had witnessed something so incredibly amazing--not only did I see kindness among my students, but I saw a student face his fear and succeed. I grabbed onto his arm as he rushed out the door. I've come to notice that everyone is always so slow to enter my room and so quick to leave, but I knew this student wasn't getting out of my classroom without me saying something. "I'm proud of you," I said. He looked at me and smiled. It was the biggest I had seen him smile that year. When this student unexpectedly passed away, his death paralyzed me and changed me as a teacher, and this story keeps coming back to the forefront of my mind as one that has made one of the largest impacts on me in my career.

      I don't usually tell stories about individual students in my blog, but I tell this story because I have learned so much about resolution from this one particular student. What does it mean to have resolution? I generally avoid dictionary definitions and suggest my students do the same in their own writing, but I would be remiss if I didn't define the word. According to Webster's Dictionary, resolution is "firmness of purpose; a mental state of determination." This student showed me and the other twenty something students in my classroom that day what it means to have resolution. He showed us what it means to be determined; he showed us what it means to live the dash.

     In a similar manner, I'm inspired by my current students who find ways of determination and resolution in living that dash. Senior TOK students, you have turned in your final drafts of your extended essay--an eighteen month research project. Congratulations! I have watched you from last January think of a unique topic, perform college-level research, and then write and rewrite. To say I am proud is an understatement.

Junior TOK students, you spent the day before break collecting clothes for Shepherd's Way Shelter and making no sew blankets. Your sense of giving and generosity is inspiring.

IB English juniors, you have shown me resolution as you prepare for your Individual Oral Commentary at the end of this month. You have gone from speaking for 49 seconds back in September to now delivering five to eight minute commentaries. I am in awe at your perseverance and determination to succeed.

So, as we begin 2018, I ask you to think about the dash in your life--those moments and what you choose to do with them. I ask you to think about how you can live a life of resolution. How can you show determination despite the fact that you are scared or don't really know how to make sense of your dash? In life, you can make a wish or you can make things happen. My resolution this new year is to make things happen, to live a life with resolution--with the kind of determintation and purpose that will make the dash in my life truly matter. What that means is I am committed to the things and people I believe in but also am committed to those things that scare me. It means I put down my phone or my book or my work and make time for others. It means when my son asks me to play Emoji Uno (yes, there is such a miserable game) for the ninteenth time, I play another round. It means that I start writing the book I have always wanted to write or try the lesson plan I had been afraid would not work. It means no matter what, I say yes to new experiences, new ideas. "No" cannot be an answer nor can "I can't" when I most certainly can.

Perhaps a year from now you will be listening to me sing in my band, the Parenthetical Dash. I will turn my monthly blog writing into the drafting of song lyrics. While I highly doubt this will be the case, this year I'm pursuing a life laced in resolution--and of course, a girl can always dream. Happy New Year, my students and readers!