Class Dismissed: Don't You Forget About Me

 I am a product of the 1980's. With that came big hair, breakdancing while watching Michael Jackson's music videos on MTV, neon colored clothes, and iconic movies that people still can relate to today. I admit I never had the big hair, but I learned to breakdance with the best of them (although was far from a breakdancing sensation) and watched movies like The Breakfast Club more times than I want to admit. That movie was the classic film of the eighties where five high school students spend an entire day in detention. They were total strangers with nothing in common except each other. Yet, by the end of the day, they bared their souls, discovering they had far more in common with one another than they imagined.

  Would this happen in today's society? Would people genuinely talk about their lives or would they stay on their phones, trolling social media, on-line shoe shopping, or playing video games? Would they open up to one another? The lesson learned in The Breakfast Club is that we're all really the same after all. The big realization is that the five students learn they're not really who people think they are; they've actually had more similar experiences and there's nothing that will stop them from continuing to relate to one another. In the final lines of the movie, the narrator states, "You see us as you want to see us--in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain and an athlete and a basket case and a princess." In other words, despite our differences, all of us like the feel of a warm bed or the sound of a good song. All of us have probably driven faster than the speed limit and feel good when we taste success. All of us could use a little more sleep and a lot less stress. 

     I can't help but think that my own classroom--Room 211--is a little bit like The Breakfast Club. We all may come from different backgrounds, have different strengths, we may not like the same music (despite my attempts to get you to appreciate the Beatles) or approach life the same way, yet we are all in room 211 and after 10 months, there's a bond that's formed that no one can take away from us. In one week, we'll go our separate ways. This class will never be together as a "class" again despite B4's plea to "Keep B4 together forever" that is written on my dry erase board. And despite our different paths we will take, we are the same. We're all pretty similar if you think about it. And when you figure this out after spending ten months with the same group of people, it's hard to say goodbye. 

      I've always hated goodbyes. For some reason, goodbyes take me a long time--to do and get over. Every time I leave my parents' house, I cry before I even head down the driveway. The five hour gap in distance is just too long.  And while most people are thrilled for the end of the school year, I always have a hard time at this point in the year. When you spend ten months with a group of people, goodbyes are inevitably hard. In fact, more than any other aspect of my job, goodbyes are by far the hardest thing about it. What if those students I just spent the past ten months shaping never return? Why do I have to start over and begin anew?

     All of my life I've been saying goodbye, though.  To high school. To the old car with far too many miles on it. To my flip phone. Those things--well most of them--I've never gone back to and my life has been changed drastically by what replaced it--college, a newer car, a "smarter" phone. With every goodbye comes welcoming something or someone else. Goodbye pregnancy, hello little one.  Goodbye students in June, hello students in September.

     You'd think after nineteen years of doing this, I'd be used to it. It would be routine. Yet every year it gets harder and harder to say goodbye. Every year I'm renewed by the fact that kids seventeen and eighteen years old can make a difference in my world. So, at this point in the school year, I'm reminded of  the end of The Breakfast Club. When the five students in detention have to say goodbye to one another and return to their worlds, the song "Don't You Forget About Me" is sounded as hugs are exchanged and looks shared. I'm here to tell you, I won't forget about you....

A1: You were the class I worried about most at the beginning of the year. No one talked when prompted--and not only that, you didn't talk to each other when not prompted. And somehow, you are the class who mastered the Socratic seminar beautifully. You are the class who brought each other breakfast for weeks just to be kind--You literally formed your own little breakfast club and bond, I suppose. You are simply great people.

   

A2: You are my fun-loving class. You never seem stressed, always have a good time in class or say something to make me laugh. You are honest and thrive in your own environment. From the start, you could work well with one another. You simply are great people.

A3: You were the very first class of the writing center. I'm so proud of the work we did in room 214 this year. You essentially learned how to run your own business while simultaneously giving me an education on important aspects of Atlee. I wouldn't trade my lunches A3 with you for the world! You simply are great people

B2: You are my most serious class. Your trial on Frankenstein was so intense that it lasted more than one day. You have the most questions and the most in-depth analysis of those questions. You keep me on my toes in a good way and have stretched me as a teacher. You simply are great people.

B4: I know you think I talked about your class' antics to my others the most, but that's because from day one you've impressed me. From the moment you wanted to take a class picture on day one, I knew I would like this class. Thank you for showing me that we can have fun in class and still get so much accomplished. From naming my bell to giving me my nickname "Goody," you made me a better teacher this year. You simply are great people.

 

And my seniors of A4: Some of you I have taught since you were freshmen. All of you have spent three classes in room 211. As I remind you often, that's an awful lot of Kelly Pace; I'm sorry. To say I'm proud of you is an understatement. I still am in denial that you all are about to walk across the stage of the Sigel Center in fifteen short days. I'll sit at your graduation as I sat at all of them I attended, wishing this wasn't goodbye. Thinking about where we've been and how far you've come. You all are great people.

Most recently, we took a service learning field trip together. The first part of the trip brought us to the Rise Against Hunger facility to pack 2500+ meals for those in need. I watched in awe as you worked diligently at whatever job you were assigned. I'm grateful this service project that four of you led enabled us to serve in the best capacity possible.

        

We then had the chance to go to Pearson's Corner Elementary School to meet the kids you've been writing and reading to over the SeeSaw app all semester. That moment was magical for myself and Mrs. Jenkins, their first grade teacher. To see the smiles--on both young and older kids--was inspiring and made me even more grateful for what I get to do on a daily basis. It also makes it even more difficult to say goodbye.

  

  

Yet, I can't stall any longer. It's just about time to say goodbye.

I'll end by telling you about another staple of my childhood--the nineties sitcom Boy Meets World. At the end of the series, the teacher Mr. Feeny states to his class, "Believe in yourselves. Dream. Try. Do good. I love you all. Class dismissed." He fights back tears as he looks at Cory Matthews and his classmates. In a similar fashion, I tearfully say goodbye to you, my wonderful students. Know you had me at hello when you first walked in 211, and you will change me forever as a teacher when you walk out for the last time this week. In life, while I hope you do well, I truly hope you do good. Be the change you want to be in the world. Live one percent better than the day before. Remember in this world we're far more similar than we think. Find the common ground with others. Dream. Try. Live a life you love. And know how much I have loved being your teacher. This week, I will say my final "Class dismissed." When I do, don't you forget about me; I surely will remember you.