When You're Here, You're Family: An Open Letter to This Year's Students

    This summer, when I looked through the rearview mirror of my car as we headed to the Outer Banks, I couldn't help but smile at the laughter coming from the back seat. I no longer remember what my kids were laughing about, but I do remember the sounds and sights--Katie's laugh was high pitched and incessant, Jack's head was tilted back, and Maggie rolled her eyes but still erupted in peals of decadent laughter. In less than fifteen minutes, though, the three were arguing, elbowing each other for car space, control of the radio, etc. They know how to push each other's buttons and know each other's strengths and weaknesses, and they know how to use such things to their advantage. As I thought about the 360-degree turn this moment took, I couldn't help but realize how this journey in the car with my three kids was a metaphor for what I want my classroom to be. All of the inside jokes, elbowing, understanding of one another's strengths and weaknesses, are important to me as we, as a class, become a family.

     I've been thinking a lot about the kind of classroom I continually want to build over the years. I've changed as an educator in the 21 years I've been in the classroom, but two things have remained constant--my love for teaching and my desire to see every student succeed. In order to do that, the most important thing I can do as a teacher is get to know you. Over the years, I've learned so much about getting to know my students, but one example from my daughter's third-grade teacher stands out in my mind as a moment that made me question the way I build relationships in my own classroom.

     Back in August of 2015, my daughter Katie walked into her third grade classroom for the first time. She had a teacher we knew well, as my older daughter Maggie had her two years prior. She was what I call a "no nonsense" teacher--she had high expectations of her students and held them to those expectations. She taught the same concept three different ways so that every learner in that classroom could experience mastery. In her classroom, students learned how to advocate for themselves; they became eloquent public speakers and learned how to study. This teacher was tough but by the end of the year when she gave each child in her class a video of photos set to music from the entire year, I could see that one thing was evident--they had become a family.

     So when Katie walked into her third-grade classroom four years ago, I had as people of your generation would say, "all the feels."  I was excited for what was ahead. The teacher looked at Katie and said, "Someone told me last year that your feet don't touch the floor when you sit down. Is that true?" Katie nodded shyly. "I went ahead and got you a smaller desk," the teacher told Katie. "You can't learn if your feet can't touch the floor." Katie smiled from ear to ear. That small gesture was just what she needed to make her comfortable in that third-grade classroom. That small gesture brought her success and a love of school--all because the teacher knew who she was.

     This year when my son Jack met his fifth-grade teacher, she got down on the ground eye level shook his hand and introduced herself by first and last name, talking to him like an adult. Jack is the kid who will look you in the eye and reason with you. He's always wanted to know why things work the way they do. He doesn't like to be spoken to like a child despite his short ten-year tenure on this earth. Somehow this teacher knew exactly what Jack needed because she learned a little bit about him.

     Like these two teachers, I desire to be the teacher who gives you what you need, who learns who you are. I want to know what kind of rap music you like or if you hate the novel we are reading. It's important to know if you play lacrosse or if you are stuck in the middle of a large family or if you are a rules follower. And I'll allow you to learn a lot about me as well. You'll soon find out that I am a Beatles fan, but they are not the only band who makes the hairs on my arms stand up when I hear their music. I like unsweet tea, dark chocolate, and am a decent Italian cook but much better at baking. In my eyes, there is nothing more powerful than a handwritten note or a good book or a smile. Most of the ideas for my lessons are done on my daily 5:20 a.m. runs (Yes, you read that right; I get up that early). I try to champion kindness on a daily basis and adore teaching. One day, I want to write a book.

     This school year, I want to give you, my students what you need, to make you feel so comfortable in my classroom that it feels like home, to create an atmosphere where everyone feels like family. I want you to feel comfortable enough to laugh or joke around but I also want you to see the serious side of our learning.  Like the journey on my family's vacation that I witnessed from my rearview mirror, I want you to feel like family.

      So how do we get to this place? Here's what I believe we need to do:

1. Don't worry about the friends you have in this class. We become so comfortable hanging around the same people, so I encourage you to attempt to meet new people. Talk to someone you never have spoken to before this year. You might have more in common than you think.

2. Work together. I teach by often having you collaborate with one another. It develops leadership skills and allows you not to exist in a vacuum. More often than not in life, you will have to work with others rather than promote your solo career.

3. Be yourself. Never, ever in life try to be someone you're not. Don't give in to others. That's the beauty of a family; they see you at your best and your worst and love you anyway. Know in Room 211, you can and should only be yourself.

4. Work hard. No strong family relationships exist without hard work. Put that kind of effort into everything you do.

5. Don't be afraid of differences. There will be moments in this class where you disagree with what someone else is saying. It's okay to elbow one another (metaphorically speaking). Learn to disagree but to respect the other side.

6. Choose kind. I constantly am reminding my own kids of this idea. I promise to teach you about writing and literary analysis and critical thinking, but I also want to promote the idea of kindness. It's what I believe can truly change the world in which we live.

     About fifteen years ago the Olive Garden launched an advertising campaign with the slogan, "When you're here, you're family." I always have loved that idea of having a place where any time you entered, you felt like family. I'm hoping Room 211 can be that place for you. I'm hoping that once I know you, I can keep your feet on the ground as you learn and look you in the eye to give you what you need. 

     Welcome home to Room 211! From the rearview mirror, I'm excited to watch what's ahead!