end of the year feelings
We have three weeks left of school. I started the year by writing a letter to my students, and I will end the year with a letter, too. A draft of a poem came to me the other night and I typed it up this morning. It will likely go through more editing before I give it to them, but I'm sharing it's current state here, for memory's sake or for anyone who wants or needs to be reminded about 6th grade moments.
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June 2019
Dear 6th graders, soon-to-be 7th graders,
This has been a long and challenging year. My dad died, I started at a new school, woke up way too early every day and had more students than I’ve ever had before. I’m figuring out a curriculum that’s not always my favorite, trying to balance meeting our needs with teaching what I’m “supposed” to teach but also wanting us to get to deeper, more beautiful work. It wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t perfect, but we made our way through the year. I will take all that we’ve learned together and I will and start again next year. Thank you for working with me and for teaching me. I was reflecting on the year and I wrote you the poem below.
Please know you can always write me and tell me how life is going. I’ll always be glad to hear from you: {email address}
Please stay curious and keep investigating and being yourselves and loving what you love and sharing it with others.
lots of love,
ms. { }
what’s beautiful to me (in 6th grade)
what is beautiful to me is that
each class begins in its own way
settles in and catches up and chats and
(hopefully) makes its way towards quiet
in its own fashion
settling into a pause of reading
(sometimes writing, sometimes drawing)
mostly putting away video games
and scho-ology and taking
a break for story
each class reads the agenda in its own way
sometimes one reader, or two or four
with their own catch phrases
attention getters
and endings
each class distracts itself in its own rhythm,
bugs each other in its own waves
begins to help each other and look to each other
instead of to me,
gaining self-sufficiency
some days everyone is mad, agitated
excited (including me)
can’t stop moving or can’t
stay out of someone’s space
can’t put away the ipad
can’t locate their notebook
can’t put away their book or their math homework
or--
can find something to write about
can figure out where there’s a pencil
can give their neighbor a helpful tip
or invite them to help them name the plants,
decorate the windows, arrange
the pillows aesthetically,
talk about something important
what’s beautiful to me is that
you came out of a single 5th grade classroom
into this place with bigger kids and
sooo many adults, and rules, and
giant binders
no hats or hoods or recess or
more than four minutes to catch
up with friends
a lot is asked of you and
some of it is boring or too much at
once or involves way too much
sitting
and some months you are
really with it and then
the next month maybe you
aren’t again but
along the way you
know another person’s name
and that you like the same book or the same
team or webcomic or are both good
at puzzles or both
know about k-pop
japanese monsters, basketball,
endangered animals
you figure out your favorite spot
in the room or
try a new one, you stand
on the wobble chair
with a twinkle in your eye
until I ask you to please climb down
you hide under pillows
you tell good and also
terrible jokes
you write me angry
emails and sweet
notes. you trade
romantic questions on scraps of paper
beneath tables you
take care of a stuffed animal that is really a
loaf of bread
you let others
see what you made
what you think (or
sometimes you don’t)
you notice something new
you choose to resist some things
and i maybe am annoyed in
that moment but secretly
i am glad that you are thinking
you are trying something
you are seeing what-if or
how-does-it-feel---
a breeze hits you. the
season is changing.
you are growing,
6th graders. you are
what is beautiful to me
