Don't Quit

It is time to lift each other up.  No one else will do it.  If we do not praise each other, if we do not remember that we are a community stronger in our numbers than alone, than we lose.  Our numbers are beginning to fall as it is.  All over the country the numbers of people entering teacher preparatory programs are diminishing. You can see it here.  Those in the profession warn others away, and even our most well known and well respected educator, Nancy Atwell, told her audience that they should not become teachers (here).  It is too hard, too unforgiving, too under-compensating.  There is reason in all of this.  But those of us who are already teachers, are in it.  We are here, and more than ever, we need to remember why.  So let me remind you.

Teachers are the absolute best people I know.  They are generous, giving up free time to talk to any student at any time.  They will answer phone calls, respond to emails, edit student work, cover classes, and make copies for absent teachers, even when they know there are a million other things that need doing at that exact moment, all equally urgent.  They will do it all for no extra compensation.  They will do it all knowing full well that they make the same salary 15 years into their job, as many professionals do just starting out. You would be lucky to meet one person who is as good, as understanding, or as open in any other job.  I know this to be true.

Perhaps they are crazy.  Perhaps they should be fighting and refusing to do the extra pieces that those above them keep demanding.  Perhaps they should teach their classes, close their doors, and watch the clock.  Isn't that the perception anyway? 

But the teachers I know, and I consider myself blessed to know so many, live and breathe their jobs.  We raise other people’s children along with our own, and know that each one of them carries a piece of us wherever they go.  That’s our compensation.  We know that we are creating and molding and changing and developing the people who will lead our country, as well as those who will be its backbone and brain in our own lifetime.  We are exposing them to ideas and dreams and characters and passions they might not find if not for us.  That’s our compensation.  We are fighting for them when others will not.  We are fighting their apathy, their anger, and their ignorance, and replacing it with energy, hope and knowledge, and we are doing it even when we are at our lowest.  Because we know that when we are not here, there is no substitute for us.  There may be a body in our chair, but that body is not the one whom our kids rely on.  We know that, and we worry about it every moment that we are not present.  Because this job allows for no true days off.   
This does not mean that we should not fight.  This does not mean that we should not demand, loudly, that we deserve more because we have earned it.  We should yell at the top of our voices, united in our volume, that test scores are numbers, and numbers are not the faces we teach, or the imaginations we spur, or the hope we inspire.  They are only numbers and they change with the day.  We should question.  All the time.  We should question the evaluators who have not stood in our shoes.  We should question the ratings based on seven minutes of an evaluation that someday may determine our pay, or our "worth."  We should remember that every day we tell our students to question the world around them, and we should do no less.

So, teachers, feel free to get angry at the changes coming our way.  Rage at the initiatives, and the meetings, and the lack of understanding of all you do, which comes at you from all sides.  But know that your colleagues all over the country stand with you as you push and pull and work those students.  We are here too.  Let us fuel your imagination when you feel empty, as my colleagues do every day for me.  Let us be your backbone when you don’t feel like you have the strength to stand up to one more parent, or one more principal.  Reach out to us.

But don’t you quit.

Insomnia and the Stay at Home Mother

Published @ www.yellowbrick.me  December, 2015

I told a friend of mine the other day, that just as the saying goes, “You don’t know what you can do until you try,” there should also be one that says “You don’t know what you CAN’T do until you try.”  This summer, I learned what I can’t do.  I can’t be a stay at home mother to my two children.  Physically, I can, but mentally, not so much.  I can stay at home with one child.  I could do that for a while (and did this summer, much to my surprise, succeed in staying home with my 3 year old with no mental detriment to either of us).  But staying home with both of my children was altogether too difficult a thing for me to master.
I have mentioned this to other mothers my age, with kids of similar ages, and gotten lots of different responses, but without a doubt, it is always the mother who hasn't done it, who sighs and says "But that's the holy grail!"  I smile and say that I guess it isn't for me.

The funny thing about all of this, is that this shouldn't have come as a surprise. I have always loved working, and have never been great with needy people.  This is not the best of all possible combinations for a stay at home mother.
And yet, when I couldn't do it, and up until very recently, I viewed it as a massive failure.  Deep in my mind, where my nagging insecurities hold sway over all else, I couldn't help but hear the chant of "bad mother...bad mother."  Did it mean that I didn't love them enough?  That they were somehow getting the shortest end of the stick by being my children?  I have wanted to be a mother for my whole life, waited, getting more and more frustrated to meet the man who would be the father of my children, and here I was.  I had achieved the dream!  I had the husband and the son and the daughter.  I had the house in the town where I grew up, near parks and playgrounds.  But it somehow wasn't enough for me. Or maybe it was too much.   

This whole issue came as a surprise to me.  I am a person who believes that she can do everything.  With a little practice, I feel that I can be at least average at anything I set my mind to.  When the daycare called and said that we could take my son out for the summer, with his place for the fall intact, I jumped at the chance.  I don’t often get to be the one bringing money-saving news to my husband.  There was a tiny seed of doubt digging itself in in that aforementioned part of my brain, but I easily ignored it, as summer was months away, and I am his mother, after all.  This should come naturally.  We went ahead and signed my daughter up for camp for the month of July, leaving me with both children for two weeks (yes, only two weeks…how could I fail at that?), before we took a family vacation, and then we all went back to school and work. 

After a few weeks of summer passed, and Josh and I fell into an easy routine of lazy mornings, and swimming afternoons, I was feeling pretty good.  I could do this.  I was doing it!  But in the evenings, that tiny seed of doubt began to grow.  I would pick Abby up from camp, and the fighting would begin.  But, I rationalized, camp was tiring.  She has always been difficult when tired.  This did not foreshadow anything.  I stomped on that larger shoot of doubt.  We would be fine.

As the impending weeks grew closer, I tried to plan a couple of day trips.  But if the whole point of this exercise was to save money, I couldn’t justify more than a couple.  Okay.  We would all just go to the pool in the afternoons.  We could continue the schedule Josh and I had already grown used to.  But Abby did not want to go to the pool. When I took her, she got cold too easily and too quickly.  She wanted to do indoor things.  She wanted to stay home.  She wanted the iPad.  Josh wanted to go to the pool.  He wanted to blow bubbles.  He wanted the iPad.  It got to the point that the night before, with no activities planned, I would start to get anxious.  I would lie in bed, awake, so awake.  I am an insomniac by nature, but never to this extent.  Once a year, I go through a three-day streak of sleeplessness.  But this was ridiculous.  Every night, the same thing.  Even when a doctor prescribed sleeping medication, I couldn’t sleep.  This was unheard of!  What’s odd is that I wasn’t lying there thinking about, or worrying about my kids.  One night I just couldn’t get “The Golden Girls” theme song out of my head.  Other nights I grew angry listening to my husband snore.  I moved to the couch, but there were so many sounds, and there was light everywhere.  But most nights it was just blankness, and no sleep.  I knew it was anxiety when my heart started speeding up the minute I lay down.  But I still didn’t tie it to my children.  And, rapidly, things got worse.  Because now, I wasn’t just trying to entertain my children for 12 hours a day, but I was doing it on one or two hours of sleep.  I was shaky, and short tempered.  I felt sick much of the day.  Everything made me angry.  Sounds and smells were intensified.  I screamed at Abby for dragging her feet in the grocery store.  The scraping sound was making me crazy.  It filled my brain.  She seemed confused.  I can’t blame her. 

Finally I went to a sleep specialist. 

He made me cry.  I hadn’t really done that yet.  He made me talk.  I hadn’t done that either.  He asked me to point to the emotion I felt most often, and I pointed, shakily, to scared.  My finger seemed drawn there of its own accord.  And I finally admitted, “I am scared…all of the time.”  He asked about my schedule.  I went through each day since I had stopped sleeping.  It was not until that moment that I realized that the insomnia started when I became a temporary stay at home mother to my two children.  He sat with me for 2 hours.  I had expected him to tell me to try yoga, to cut out caffeine and alcohol, and to breathe deeply.  He told me to go back to work.  He told me to find me time.  He told me it was okay not to be everybody’s everything all of the time. 

I didn’t sleep better that night.  I wish it were that simple.  But a couple of nights later, when we were on vacation, and the kids were not falling asleep, I broke down crying, and really talked to my husband.  He listened, dealt with the kids, as he had been doing each and every night since this began, and finally, that night I slept. 

I cannot be a stay at home mother to my two children.  I can be a working mom (I do that pretty well), and a wife, and a teacher, and a daughter, and a person I am proud of in most respects. 

But for me, the holy grail is balance, and I'm still trying to learn that lesson.

Battle Wounds

Published @ www.yellowbrick.me
Before I had kids, I made all sorts of judgments about the parents I saw around me.  I am a teacher, so I was always conferencing with and questioning the motives of my students’ parents.  It seemed inevitable.  I couldn’t believe the choices they seemed to knowingly be making.  How could they let their kids talk to them that way?  Why couldn’t they control them?  Why were they over-programming their kids?  Why were they under-programming their kids?  I imagined all of the things I would do differently.  Couldn’t they see that they weren’t doing things right?

I am now a parent.  I have two young children.  I am still a teacher, but parenting has changed the way I look at not only the other parents I see, but also at the kids I teach.  There are so many choices we all make each day, but trying to understand each other should be the first one.

Probably the most important thing that I have learned through this exhausting, yet wonderful process of motherhood, is that support from my community is sometimes the only thing that makes a difference.  I cannot do this job without other parents.  I cannot get through a day without asking questions and telling stories, and laughing and swearing and just drawing in and drawing from my community of parents. 

This summer, I sat at the baby pool with my 3-year-old son and watched a young mother with her toddler.  I knew the anxious look on her face.  I recognized my own expression from 5 years ago as I sat alone at the same baby pool hoping someone would welcome me into the fold.  I didn’t know how to ask to be included.  I didn’t know how to ask for help.  Was this all supposed to just come naturally, as it seemed to for others?  How would I know if I was doing it wrong?  It turned out to be a very lonely summer.  So, when I saw this young mom, I moved closer to her in the pool.  I smiled.  I asked her questions.  She was new to town, and I gave her my number.  I texted her when I got home and told her that she could ask me any question about the town or the schools or anything at all.  I would help her any way I could.  Though I wasn’t new to town when I sat in that baby pool 5 years ago, I was new to mommyhood, and I wish someone had done the same for me.

We need to remember that parenthood can feel like a minefield.  And no one should be left to figure it out by him/herself.  I have developed my community, but it took time.  I have found the other parents in my sphere with whom I can laugh as we all just barely survive, but not everyone has, and when they do what they must, and cast into the void that is the internet, they do so at their own risk.  There is so much criticism, so much negativity. 

So let’s all use www.yellowbrick.me to make the choice to extend the support I did to my young friend at the baby pool.  Let us truly be a community of peers.  Let us remember that parenthood is the hardest and most important job of them all, and that we have all stepped on a mine at one time or another.  I’ll show you my scars, if you show me yours!

One High School Teacher's Top Ten List for Success in High School

Published on www.grownandflown.com 7/31/15

After reading a professor's top 10 list for kids going to college, I decided to write my top ten list for those of you going into high school (or getting ready to go back).  Think of this list as some words of wisdom from a teacher who has seen it all!  These rules work.  To boil it down even more succinctly for you: Build relationships from the very beginning, and be honest.  Everything else will fall into place!
  
1.  Know what is expected of you over the summer. Many of your classes (not just English) now require summer reading, or some sort of summer work in preparation for the class.  Coming into class unprepared on day one sends a clear message to the teacher.

• However, if you haven't done the work, cop to it right away.  I would always rather a student come up to me on day one, and say I didn't do the summer reading, what can I do so that I am prepared?  This shows maturity and ambition.  Both of which are necessary to do well in any class.

    2.  Work hard on the first assignment.  This is your chance to show your teacher what you can do, and what he/she can expect from you.  Read thoroughly, write as well as you can, and participate fully in the activities of the first week.

• It is hard to change someone's impression of you, and you want the person grading your work to feel that you are trying from the very beginning.  He or she will be more accepting of slip ups later in the year, if you have shown that you are willing to work in the beginning.

    3.  Participate.  Participate.  Participate.  This is the way your teacher will get to know you.  Your teacher doesn't care particularly that you are 100% correct in your answer, but that you are putting effort forth and paying attention to what has already been said.  Remember that putting your hand up shouldn't result in your ears shutting down.  Listen to what your classmates are saying and respond appropriately: "I agree with Caitlyn, but think..." One of the most frustrating things for teachers and classmates, is when someone repeats a comment that has just been spoken.

• Don't speak just to speak, speak to add to the discussion.

    4.  Ask questions when you don't understand something.  Generally, if you have a question, someone else has the same one.  Probably many people have the same question, but are too shy to ask.  If the question doesn't get asked, it probably won't get answered.  Don't be left wondering.

• Ask the question.  This is the only way I know what you understand, and what you don't.

    5.  Be honest in all areas of your work.  I have forgiven many transgressions on the basis of honesty.   No matter how close you think you are to your classmates, 9 times out of 10 they will throw you under the bus to save themselves.  The truth will come out.  Mistakes are made. We all make bad choices when under stress or overwhelmed.  It is the way you deal with the choice and the consequence that tells me who you are.

• If you cheat in my class, I will be upset.  But if you are honest about it when caught, or (better yet) before being caught, I will more than likely either give you another assignment to make up for part of the grade, or help you to find a way to strengthen your grade after the fact.  I want you to understand that what you did was wrong, but I don't ever want you to fail because of it.  No teacher wants that.  Your honesty will help me help you.  

   6.  If the class is a reach for you (an honors class, or A.P. class you wanted to try), be prepared to ask for help.  You can not grow on your own.  Advocate for yourself.  Help can come from any number of places, but should always start with the teacher.  She knows that you are struggling, but wants to know that care about your own success.  If you find that you don't get the help you're looking for from your teacher, find another resource.  But always let your teacher know you are working hard. Mention that you purchased (or got from the library) an A.P. practice book.  Tell her that you've been getting tutored by an older student or an adult.

• If your teacher knows you are trying to grow, he or she will be more likely to help you achieve your goal.

    7.  If you don't do an assignment, or had trouble with an assignment, or even if you were just overloaded and couldn't get to an assignment, do not wait until class time to tell your teacher.  Seek him/her out before period 1, and, once again, be honest.

• Your teacher knows how stressful each year can be, and may be more understanding than you think about the pressures of extracurriculars, and/or family stress.  

    8.  Develop a relationship with at least three teachers by the middle of Junior year.  You will need at least two teachers to write a college recommendation, or to be a job reference, and you don't want to put yourself in a precarious position when the time comes to ask.

• Know who will be your best advocate, and talk to that teacher face to face.  The worst thing that can happen is that the teacher says no.  That's why you want to have that third teacher in your back pocket.

   9.  Get to know your guidance counselor.  It's easy to forget that each guidance counselor has hundreds of students for which he/she is responsible.  Don't wait until you are in crisis to seek her out.  The better she knows you at your best, the better she can help you at your worst.  Make appointments to check in, see that you're on the right track, and ask questions about what is missing in your high school schedule.

• They are experts in their areas, but it's hard for them to guide you if they don't know you.  

10.  Join something.  Find a club or an activity that suits you.  At my high school kids have created robotics clubs, anime clubs, rugby clubs, movie clubs....any type of club that you can imagine.  There is something for everyone.  Not only will you find your "people" through this club, but you will find ways to stretch yourself, your creativity, and your intellect in completely new and different ways.

• If you find a way to connect to the school community, you will be more likely to keep yourself on track for success in general.  

Perspective

My daughter told me the other day that she wishes she didn't have to wear glasses. Only two kids in her kindergarten class wear glasses, and she wishes that she could be more like the rest of the class.  I put on my brave face (screaming inside, angry and sad, 5 years old and she can already see difference, and it already equals wrong or bad) and try to frame my words with care.  "Your glasses are a part of who you are!  They make you special, and besides that you NEED them to see." I am equal parts cheerleader and pragmatist.
She says, "But when can I wear contacts?"  She means, when can I blend in?  This whole conversation hurts.
My husband is legally blind.  He has extreme myopia.  He wears contacts, and no one would know how strong his prescription is, unless they saw his glasses.  Then they would know.  When Abby was a baby, she held every book right in front of her eyes.  She stood an inch away from the television screen.  When her teachers read to her in daycare, she insisted on sitting on their laps so that she could be closest to the book.  They asked us to get her eyesight tested and we did.  The pediatrician did the eye test they do for all of the little ones.  She passed.  We smiled, but knew they were wrong. Later, when daycare asked again about her vision, we took her to an ophthalmologist.  He went through lens after lens.  He was horrified.  She was 2 1/2 and she, too, was legally blind.  I will never forget the doctor's response when I asked how we could expect an active 2 year old to keep track of, and not break, her $600.00 glasses.  He looked me squarely in the eyes, and said, "If you were outside in -5 degree temperatures, and someone handed you a coat, would you lose it?" I couldn't speak.  I had left my daughter out in the cold without a coat for 2 1/2 years.  I hugged her close.  My husband cried when I told him the news.
Now, I know that glasses are not a big deal in this day and age.  I also understand that there are many situations much worse than hers.  I have not lost all perspective, believe me.  However, as a mother, any time limitations are placed on your child, your heart breaks just a bit.  My husband suffered differently.  Her diagnosis placed him immediately back in elementary school, peering at the world through "coke-bottle" lenses, getting into fights, and suffering the way kids do.  And then there was the guilt of passing down this trait.  I could tell him that the glasses were different now (which he knew), that they were cute and pink and the edges of the lenses could be shaved down to almost nothing.  I could tell him other children wore glasses at this age too.  She wouldn't be alone.  I could tell him that this would change her world.  All of this he knew, but needed to hear anyways.  I couldn't take away the guilt, though.  That is every parent's burden.
The eye doctor was right, of course.  She has had her glasses for 2 1/2 years and has never lost them or broken them.  But I have been waiting for this moment.  The moment when she would recognize her difference and the wall we have built around her would begin to weaken. Just the tiniest crack, but a foreshadowing of future fissures.  I had hoped it would come later, of course.  I had hoped she would be older and I would have had more time to help her build up her defenses.  I had hoped for stronger mortar between the bricks.  But she is 5 and she has already realized that in this world, it is easier to look the same.  I teach high school girls.  I know high school girls.  For God's sake, I was a high school girl.  Insecurity is a rite of passage.  We are taught in so many ways, by so many people that we must be beautiful in the "right" way, and whether she can verbalize it or not, at the age of 5, she already believes that she is not.  That her beauty is somehow "wrong."
Someday, she will wear contact lenses. And then the differences will be harder to see from the outside.  I can't know now what those differences may be, but they are there in all of us.  We each look through our own lenses and see the world in a different way.  I didn't cherish my own perspective until I went to college.  Perhaps if her insecurities have come earlier, then her security will as well.  I can only hope that each time my daughter realizes that what she sees is not what others see, for whatever reason, that she will take the time to show them her world.  Because that would be invaluable.

Advice to my seniors

This year, I have a senior homeroom.  These 15 students have been in my homeroom since they were freshmen.  In a few months, I will send them off into the world with a catch in my voice and trepidation in my heart.  I do not fear their readiness academically.  They have been given all that we could give them, and they are prepared to take college classes, or join the army, or hold down jobs.  I know this.  What I worry about is the rest of it.  I worry that they are unprepared for independence.

Recently, there have been news stories about fraternities doing shameful things, but this is nothing new.  There has been report after report about rapes on college campuses, and the lack of action or follow through in response to these rapes.  None of this is new.  But how do I prepare my students for these things?
As teachers, we walk a line every day.  For some of us, this line is clearly marked with permanent marker.  The line dictates what we will and will not talk about.  Rather than take the risk of reprimand, we may choose just to teach our subjects.  We stick to math.  We stick to science.  We talk about a book or a poem, avoiding the topics that might burst the imagined bubble of innocence around our students.  We hide behind our subjects and our jobs.
But I look at my students in my homeroom, these young adults, sitting safely behind their desks, whom I have known for four years, and I know I must say something.
Here's what I would like to tell them:
Soon, you will be free; You will no longer have an adult watching you for 7 hours a day.  There will be no one concerned about why your eyes look red this morning, or why your head is on the desk today.  There will be no adult who knows you well enough to worry that today you are acting differently, more withdrawn or angry, or even to ask why you seem to be walking on a cloud, why the smile, the laughing lilt to your voice?  So, yes, you are free, but you are also alone.  Perhaps for the first time.  It will be scary, but know that we have given you the tools you need.
Breathe in all of that strength that I know you have within you.  Hold that breath as long as you can, and remember who you are.
Look around you at the strangers in your dorm, or your unit, or wherever the world takes you. Choose your friends carefully.  Find a person you can trust, someone with whom you are comfortable, someone who lets you be vulnerable, and does not judge you for it.  Be a pair, a duo, a team and a shield for one and other.  There will be a moment when you know in your gut that something is off, and you will need that person by your side.  If it feels wrong, it is wrong.  Leave.  Trust each other, and leave.  More often then not, your gut will know before your brain does.  Let it be your compass. Having a hand to hold at this point makes all the difference.
Find your voice.  Be a presence wherever you are so that it becomes clear to you and those around you, that your choices are just that.  They are yours.  If your voice is clear, then people will listen. I would rather be wrong at top volume, than silently right.
Allow yourself to make a mistake.  Once.  Then learn from it, and don't do it again.  There is no point in regret.  Regret allows you to wallow, and wallowing is lazy.  Get up.  Apologize.  Move on.
Most of all, learn.  Take in the world around you; Soak it up.  Because every new experience will teach you more about yourself.  And when the world tries to beat you down, as it will from time to time, those who know themselves rise up.  Again and again.
Be that survivor.  And remember, no matter what, this too shall pass.  It always does.

March of the Juniors

This piece was first published in www.grownandflown.com

Every year around this time I have a talk about stress and anxiety with my junior year A.P. students.  Most of these students are your typical high achievers.  They have been working toward college for as long as they can remember.  Many of them know where they will apply, and have known the grades they need and the test scores they need to achieve, since middle school.  Many of them are taking 4 or 5 Advanced Placement classes, are involved in clubs and sports, and have a part time job.  They generally have ridden out the storm until now.  It is in March when I begin to see the changes.

In March, 2^nd semester is in full swing.  We are halfway through quarter 3 and progress reports have gone out.  While most of us are eagerly awaiting spring and warmer weather, my students are fully aware that with the spring comes testing.  They are gearing up to take S.A.T.s, to take or re-take A.C.T.s (most now take both), the Smarter Balance Assessment (S.B.A.C), which is the new junior year test/graduation requirement in Connecticut, and A.P. exams.  They have been told by guidance counselors that if they don’t get a certain score on their S.A.T.s, the top colleges won’t even look at their applications.  They have been told that they need to go to graduate school to get a good job.  College is no longer good enough.  They have been told that if they don’t get into a “good” college, then they won’t get into a “good” graduate school.  They are terrified.

One student said to me that he has never been as stressed out as he is right now.  He said he is working harder than he has ever worked, and yet his grades have not changed.  He feels he understands the material he is learning and has proved it, yet he only has Bs.  He can’t wrap his brain around this fact.  I can.  I have known it all year.  He is an incredibly bright young man, who is spread way too thin.  He is currently taking 5 A.P. classes.  Each of these classes is equivalent to a college course.  In college, each of these classes would meet every other day, and he would have time in between classes to work.  In high school, each of these classes meets every day.  He may have an hour of homework from each of these classes a night.  He also has one or two other classes.  He is in the music program, performing in concerts throughout the year, and often practicing after school.  He is involved in a club which travels to different schools, in order to hear panels of fantastic speakers.  This club meets once a month and the trips often take hours.  He does not “take” a lunch, so that he can include another class in his schedule instead.    This may sound extreme, but I have many students following similar schedules. 

In another class, my students talk about how they feel like their parents are more anxious than they are.  They hear mixed messages.  One student says that Mom says, “Don’t worry, just do your best!” and then the next day asks why she only received a B on her test and doesn’t she care about her future?  She works hard.  She is doing her best, but she can see that Mom is worried.  Others told her it was because she was the oldest, and I tried my best to explain how as parents we want so much for our children to have everything, to have every option under the sun.  We want to be in that classroom, taking the tests, controlling for every possible situation, so that there is no further obstacle.  It drives us crazy that we can’t help more, and that turns into anxiety.

The problem, of course, is that that anxiety sits squarely on the shoulders of our teens.  So, they shoulder their own anxiety, and they shoulder their parents’ anxiety.  And to make matters worse, they are feeling the anxiety from their teachers as well.  One student told me that the first day of 2^nd semester, even his most “laid back” teachers amped up the pressure.  I remembered that day.  I did it too.  They walked in and I reminded them that the A.P. exam was in May.  We would start taking two multiple choice practices in one day, instead of one.  We would be holding more firm with timed essays.  No rewrites.  No more messing around.  I think those were my words.  Today, I apologized. 

What I find so interesting about this is that when I asked if they were planning on taking it easy next year, they looked at me like I was crazy.  Many of them are planning on taking just as many A.P. classes their senior year.  They will not see relief until they leave high school.  Ironically, for many of them, college will be easier than their junior and senior years of high school. 

This all feels like madness to me. 

So, what can we do?  I try to do my part.  My class, though it is an A.P. is not heavy on homework.  They will often have reading and annotating to do, but all of their writing is done in class.  They sometimes re-write essays for me on their own time, but I have a policy of only giving homework when it is absolutely necessary.  For some, mine might be the only class that does not pile it on.  I think we, as teachers, sometimes forget how much they have to do, and how little time they actually have.  We forget that they have other classes as well, and that the pressure and anxiety they feel is very real and immediate.

We need to remember that the score they get on the exam is less important than the experience they have in the class.  I am lucky to work in a school where the class is not taken away from me, if my scores aren’t perfect.  This should be the culture at every school.  Pressure trickles down. If my department head makes sure that I feel it, you can be sure my students will feel it too.

As parents, we need to remember that almost any school can be the “best” school for a kid.  Unless the student has specific needs, if he has been raised to be strong and confident, he will make his way no matter where he goes.  Support him, work with him if he needs it, but let him lead you.  If you see a change in his behavior, ask about it.  And give yourself days off too.  Maybe Thursday and Fridays are “no college talk days,” or some such variation.  Mostly, as hard as it may be to do, trust him.  He wants this just as much as you do.

So, around this time of year, as they trudge into my class, I try to keep it light.  I give them time to talk, as a class, about their stresses.  We still write essays and discuss texts, but we also look inward, and laugh and breathe.  I say as often as I can that what they do in college is more important than where they go, and hope that they hear my voice. 

I wish I had better answers.