I started teaching 22 years ago, full of energy and sure I could make change happen.

Twenty-two years later, I’ve made some mistakes along the way, but ultimately I’ve had more success than failure.

I guess that’s why I keep teaching middle school.

Middle school teaching isn’t for everyone. Some say it’s the worst possible age group, but I disagree. I love it.

Challenging? Yes. Frustrating? Often. Fun? Usually. Rewarding? Definitely. Insane? Sometimes.

For the last five years I’ve been building up the AVID program in our school. AVID is an acronym for Advancement Via Individual Determination, and is a nationwide program to ‘level the playing field’ for students stuck in the academic middle.

I love it.

In fact, I’d bet that Einstein would have been a perfect AVID student.

Einstein’s high school transcript (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sometimes students are stuck through no real fault of their own-their family situations, socioeconomic status or access to education may have caused them to slip behind their peers. Sometimes, however, it’s just good old fashioned stubbornness, with a dash of insecurity, that results in their underachievement.

That’s where Einstein comes in.

His definition of insanity is one I share over and over with my students, as many times as it takes for them to believe me.  Sometimes is takes all year. Sometimes two years, depending on their stubbornness factor.

Middle school kids, especially eighth graders, like to think they know it all, and their parents know nothing. Teachers usually hover somewhere above or below parent status: we often are listened to a little bit more by virtue of not living with them, but sometimes students see all adults in the same light.

When my AVID students arrive at the beginning of the year, I lay down some basic rules about school: organization, responsibility, collaboration, and critical thinking are high on my list.  And always, there are the kids who say they like it ‘their way’, despite the fact that ‘their way’ hasn’t been working for them. They want to hang on to what they know. They are afraid to change, even when what they’re doing isn’t getting the desired results.

I know some adults like that, too.

It almost always happens the same way: the kids who try it ‘my way’ find that it works better, and their grades improve. The stubborn ones who won’t change, and have parents who don’t know how to support change usually take a very long time, if ever, to get where they want to be.  Their binders stay messy, their planners incomplete, their homework missing, and their grades below average.

So, ironically, I keep insanely repeating Einstein’s words, knowing that deep down, kids will realize that just because an adult suggests change, it isn’t all bad. Sometimes the kid has to hit bottom and decide for themselves to try it another way.

I say, whatever it takes. I know that my way gets results, eventually.

I’m pretty stubborn, too.

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This post was written as part of the Saturday Sayings series on:

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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I always share this quote with my eighth and ninth grade students at the beginning of each school year.  In August, they’re filled with promise, with messages of hope and faith from their parents, and confidence that this will be their year.  That change will happen.

Progress grades after four weeks usually show improvement.  They can commit to change, and are seeing results.  They are starting to feel good.  Their parents are proud.

Four more weeks go by.   Tests, projects, essays, and life start to blur their focus.  They’re not getting enough sleep, and it’s hard to see the end of the quarter.  October is a hard month.

Eight weeks later, when quarter grades come out, their little balloons burst.  Some have slipped back into old habits.  Their calendars are sparse, their backpacks stuffed with paper, unfinished assignments, and smelly gym clothes. parents have begun to nag, panic, and in desperation, sometimes blame the teachers.

It’s my job to pick up the pieces.  Rebuild their shattered hopes, and cheer them towards the finish line.  You can do it!  Look at your progress in the long run!  You’ve come so far!  Don’t let that one test/paper/homework/detention slow you down!

I often wonder what really holds kids back.  Is it the fear of success?  Are they more comfortable in that middle place of a “C” or “D” grade, when they’re still passing but no one puts too much pressure on them to be ‘perfect’?  Is it a lack of trust that what teachers and adults are suggesting will really work?  Or maybe it’s all a natural developmental phase; kids trying things their way, regrouping, and trying again?

Is school really getting that much harder?  Or are we just approaching it differently?  Are the stakes raised for kids, families, teachers, and colleges?  What exactly are we expecting from our children?

Finding a balance for teachers and parents is tricky.  We want to hold up high expectations, knowing that they have ‘potential’.  We want them to strive to do better, work harder, and get into a ‘good’ college.  We hire help – economics tutors, SAT prep, math courses, and whatever we can do to say we’ve done our best.

I always come back to the kid, and that intangible, unteachable asset that seems to mark those that make it through the bumps, hurdles, and hard times of middle school: intrinsic motivation.  I saw it during my trip to Indonesia last summer – those kids wanted nothing more than to learn English and make it to the U.S. for college.  They understood, “No Pain, No Gain” like many of my students cannot.  They couldn’t afford tutors-they just had to work hard.

The bottom line is, the kid has to want it.  They need to have a supportive base, caring people who will encourage and not accept responsibility for their actions.  They need to have people who are firm, consistent, and unconditionally love them.  They need to celebrate the small victories and regroup after the defeats.  They need to see the glimmers of hope for their future – to see who and what they can be when, diploma in hand, they walk into adulthood.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Day one of the school year was pretty decent – my job is to build up my students who think they are less than, cannot make it, or don’t see where they will fit into the world.

So I showed them a video of the Mars Curiosity landing.

Touchdown confirmed.

Everyone heard about this a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t until I read Brene Brown’s post and saw the video clip that I realized how perfectly it fit into my first day of school message.  I don’t like to spend that day pouring over rules, syllabi and other boring stuff-I like to teach straight away.

I think at first my students thought I was crazy – perfectly fine with me.  And then they got it.

Failure is not an option.

Touchdown confirmed.

Day 2 awaits.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my children growing up and away from us.

When they were born, I never wanted to let them go.  Sliding their precious bodies into another’s arms was reserved only for moments desperate for solitude.  Sleeping side by side, we monitored their every movement, every breath.

When my son started kindergarten, I was excited.  He was so ready to formalize his education – he loved learning, loved socializing, and eagerly anticipated learning Spanish like his big sister had.  He smiled all the way to school, and babbled about his adventures all the way home.

When my daughter started middle school, I was elated.  Finally, she would be on my campus, and all the regrets I had about not volunteering in her classes or driving on field trips might be soothed by knowing I could see her every day.  She immersed herself in friendships, studying, and never missed a dance.

When my son left elementary school, I was saddened.  Eleven years spent between the two suddenly evaporated without even being able to take one final bike ride to pick him up from school on the last day.  He was so ready to move on with his education – he loved his friends, loved socializing, and couldn’t wait to ride his bike with his friends all the way to the middle school.

When my daughter started high school, I was nervous.  This is when it all comes down to the end, the grades, the transcripts, the test scores and college admissions.  She would get her driver’s license, go to the prom, and before I knew it, leave home.

The clock in my heart began counting down.

When my son starts middle school this year, I am still half-way holding on.  I can’t quite let go, can’t pass him off to what’s next even though I know it will happen despite me. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope for it to happen painlessly, for it to slip through my awareness without having to feel the drop of my heart, the skip of my breath.

I’ve been thinking about them both lately.  I’ve been hoping that the days will stretch on endlessly, the mothering will just shape-shift into some kind of form that I can still cling to even when they’re not here.  I’m not ready to let them go, not eager for that kind of solitude.  I’ve been trying to cast every moment in bronze, and not let them slip through my fingers.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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