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How to Teach Ninth Graders

Forget that you are cool. You are necessarily lame. You are the father with bad puns. You are the mother who asks too many questions. Don’t feel bad about this. It’s a role you must play. And it will make it much better when your students are pleasantly surprised when you know who Frank Ocean is or when you can dance beyond the few “white-boy” dance moves.

Forget that you have opinions. When your students talk about abortion or same-sex marriage, remember you are there only to make sure they are supporting their arguments. You want them to be skilled free-thinkers, not brain-washed automatons. Remember that now you are capable of brain-washing, too.

Remember you are not their friend in a ninth-grade sense, but also remember you love them dearly. When you get angry, remember to tell them it’s because you want to best support them.

Remember every student is capable of success. Sometimes, it will seem like many of them aren’t. Sometimes, it will seem like many are doomed for failure. But keep teaching. Keep providing extra help. Keep going over comma splices. Eventually, the unwanted commas will disappear from their writing.

Remember to always be excited. There will be days when you don’t like your lesson. There will be days when the kids are so hopped up on hormones that you almost feel like you are going through puberty again. There will be days when every kid in your class is mad at you. Be excited. Especially on those days. Jump around the room. Yell and scream. Make them yell and scream, too. Remind them that learning is always fun.

And when you go home at night and are thinking about the day, forget you were the teacher. Instead, be a student with fifteen teachers. Remember what they taught you about forgiveness and love and knowledge.

Be inspired.

Unknown's avatar

To the Woman Who Stared at Me at Exit 38

I think maybe you were once very pretty. You are, still, in a tired way. But like a sunflower in fall, it is clear that you have seen better days. I look at you because I like looking at the cars that I pass. They seem like self-contained worlds to me. You look as if you understand that.

At first, I’m flattered that you are staring at me. I do look good with facial hair, highway wind whipping through my closely cropped hair, and black shades on. But you hold your stare for too long. I make eye contact with you and hope we will share a moment. I hope you will wave or turn away and laugh with your friends. But you don’t. You keep your eyes on me, and as much as I try to look away, I can’t.

Your eyes are empty. That’s the best way to describe them. And I’m terribly scared of them. I’m scared of them because they don’t seem self-aware. In fact, they seem the opposite of it. They are empty. They are shells. And they warn me that most people have souls that look similar.

The woman who waves or laughs is no more self-aware than you are. She is simply better at acting. She knows that a well-placed laugh can make it seem like she doesn’t take herself too seriously. She knows that a well-timed wave goes well with her personal aesthetic.

The scary thing about your eyes is that they show that you have given up. As I try to cut away every opinion, every action, every thought that is not my own, you realize that it is not an achievable goal. You have given into the cookie cutter. You have allowed it to rule your sunflower face. Nothing in the world can make you more or less than you are now because you will be gone by winter.

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An Incomplete List of Things That Are Making Me Angry Today

1. The idea that there is somehow no good music being made today.

There is. You are just too busy fawning over Biggie to find it.

2. I don’t have any ice cream.

I don’t have any ice cream.

3. Debates over what’s godly and what’s not.

Unless I am your accountability partner, let’s not argue about what God does or does not want us to do. You do what you think is godly and I’ll do what I think is godly, and we can be happy.

4. My thirst for drama.

I desperately crave villains in my life narrative. There are no villains. Just a bunch of people trying to figure out how to live the good life.

5. The American dream.

I am teaching 9th graders this summer. And I love every minute of it. But over the past couple of weeks, I’ve started to develop this fear. What am I educating these students for? So they can be successful in a dream that should have never been a dream in the first place? If all of these students become lawyers, will they be happier than their non-lawyer peers? Will they be more content? Will they be closer to God?

6. Every last thing that has distorted my view of life, love and happiness.

Between John Cusack movies and 50 Shades of Gray and rap music and pop music and Nicholas Sparks novels and Facebook status updates I don’t know what I’m supposed to want.

7. The idea that life is about me and my enjoyment.

How many hours have I spent “blowing off steam” or “taking a break?” These ideas are lies. We need breaks, but we don’t need those breaks to be watching three hours of Youtube videos.

8. I don’t get to visit my friend in New York this summer.

I miss him.