Dear Class,
Now that we’re a few days into the new school year, I’ve had a chance to observe you, and there are several things I’d like to say.
To the boy in the back corner: I’m sorry that you’ve already been publicly identified by your peers as “the bad kid.” I don’t know what happened in fourth grade, but you have a fresh start today. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you become “the good kid” as soon as possible. I can see you’ve already begun: you raise your hand to be called on, you praise your classmates, and you quickly find your spot in line when I ask you to.
To the girl whose first day of school in the United States was last week: I’m proud of you. You’ve already learned how to ask in English, “May I have a piece of paper?” and “May I go to the bathroom?” With your attitude and effort, you’ll leave 5th grade comfortable in conversational English. I hope the other three students who don’t speak English are inspired by your example and follow suit. We do need to work on your pronunciation of the “th” sound though; there’s a world of difference between “one third” and “one turd.”
To the boy with multi-colored hair: I’ll try not to judge you for that. I will endeavor to see you as more than the hair color fad you currently sport. It is possible, however, that I will internally cheer when you finally get rid of it.
To the boy who asserted that Greek is more important than Latin: I love you. The fact that you are even thinking about Greek and Latin makes my heart sing. In my humble opinion, you’re wrong; Latin is more important. I hope to convince you of that by June. If I don’t, at least we’ll have some amazing arguments about it.
To the twins: I know you think you’ll die if you’re separated, but I won’t let you sit at the same table past the first two weeks. I want to see each of you as individuals and learn how special you are, and that is easier if you are not together all of the time.
To the two-thirds of the class with new shoes: They’re shoes; they get dirty. I know the first smudge on white tennis shoes is stressful, but you may not yell at the classmate who accidentally stepped on your foot. You also may not step on each other’s shoes on purpose with the intention of smudging them. Someone’s mom or dad worked hard to pay for those shoes.
To the one-third of the class that didn’t start the school year with new shoes: I’m not making any assumptions about your family’s economics or values, but I will keep an extra eye on you when it starts to get cold, just in case you don’t have new sweaters either. I won’t let anyone tease you about your shoes, but if they are full of holes, I promise we’ll find a way to solve that problem.
To the three students whose moms have been deported: I am so sorry. I will turn a blind eye if you’re a little bit tardy on Mondays; you spend weekends in Tijuana with your mom, and the line to cross back into the US is slow on Monday mornings. I will straighten your ponytails, fix your collars, help you with your homework, and bandage your scrapes. I know my primary job is to teach you, but I’ll try to remember that you need some mommying also.
To the kids who live with both mom and dad: I know you don’t understand why I always say, “Give this to your mom, dad, grandma, aunt, uncle, or grownup in charge of you.” You’ll get used to it.
To the five students who read at grade level: I am delighted. I have so many books to recommend to you. I will spend inordinate amounts of money on books to keep you happy.
To those who don’t read at grade level: You will read daily and I promise you that you will learn to love stories and books. It is the only guarantee I can successfully offer year after year, and I offer it to you.
To all of you: Of course the first week of school is the easiest. It gets harder. At some point I will scold you and you will roll your eyes at me. Test scores will fill us with despair. We will struggle, but we will laugh a lot. We’ll bond over sarcasm and inside jokes and whatever pop song somehow becomes “ours.” The days will be long but the year will be short. Let’s make it great.
Love,
Your teacher.
