A little doodle courtesy of Noah Vicencio
Originally posted on October 4, 2016, “They’re All Grown Up” offers my reflections on one of the first middle school classes I taught. In this particular class I formed a lifelong connection with a couple students who are no longer kids but adults in their second years of college. I actually recently had dinner with them and while they’re no longer the middle schoolers I tried to impress wisdom on, I can confirm that some of my insight stuck.
And I’m quite proud of them.
They’re all grown up, I thought to myself last June at Thornton-Donovan School’s commencement ceremony. Sitting among my colleagues, I watched some of my first students rise to accept their diplomas.
Ones who used to make out on the bench outside my classroom, smoke cigarettes on the street, try to pass Sparknotes off as homework. Ones who used to turn their nose up at others, who used to blame others for their problems.
Yet, I was not lamenting they just don’t make kids like that anymore. No, instead, I was reminiscing about when I was their teacher and a select few taught me as much as I had taught them.
Maybe more.
In my damp, chilly classroom with the radiator that sparked sometimes and always smelled like burning toast, I stood before a classroom of seventh graders. I had never taught middle school before. And I hated middle school probably as much as they did in that moment.
I introduced myself as Mr. Chapin although I said they can call me Andrew if they wanted to. Thankfully, they never took me up on that offer. Looking back on it, I wouldn’t even consider saying that now, for we’re not on the same level. They call their peers by their first names; however, teachers need to be given the title to show the distinction between master and pupil. It’s one of the few remaining shreds of institutionalized respect we have in our profession. However, in my naivety, I was trying to ingratiate myself to them as if that were how you garnered respect.
We talked about Jersey Shore, South Park, and the music we enjoyed. This all played into another callow conception I had at the time: I subconsciously wanted them to like me. And on that first day they did. However, once I tried teaching them the difference between action and linking verb the next day and why it was a crucial distinction if they ever wanted to write even decently, that was when the calling out, the side chatter, the doing work for other classes, or the doing nothing at all took place.
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