One of my first major rookie mistakes took place at the beginning of my second year. I sent an email to the next level of teachers, offering my insight on the behavior of students I had the year before. (I know. I am in the future also.) It was not long before my principal came to my room for a chat. Fortunately, he was a person who understood the difference between a wrong action taken out of malice and one made out of ignorance. He very kindly said, "Listen, I know you meant well, but you can't do that. Here's why." Because of who he was, it was a great learning moment for me; but because of his role, he focused largely on the legal issues involved.
I now understand the deeper reasons behind why that offer was a bad idea. And it's simple. Those kids were not the same that year for those teachers that they had been the year before for me. That understanding began that year and continued until last week and is likely to show up in my life until the day I die. That year, I had a few students come back to visit. I taught freshmen in a building that was separated from but adjacent to the rest of the high school (In fact, it wasn't just a different building, it was a separate school called the Freshman Academy.). When these kids who were now sophomores would walk all the way across campus to visit, I was stunned by how much they had changed over the summer. I remember saying to one of them, "Where were you last year? You and I could have gotten some stuff done." Then we laughed at some silly stories from the previous year. We don't notice maturing while it's happening because they don't seem that different from one day to the next, but seeing them several months later, it was obvious that a lot of change had happened.
A few years ago, I was observing our 7th-grade science teacher. I am not built to teach 7th-grade students. It's just not a skill I possess, and the disastrous experiment of teaching 7th-grade health proved that beyond doubt. This teacher, on the other hand, was a masterful manager of 7th-grade students. She knew exactly what to respond to and what to ignore. The period I was there happened to be one of her more energetic classes, and I was entertained as I sat in the back of the room while they calculate the air pressure on their hands. One of the more insightful students, knowing I am the 8th-grade science teacher, turned to me and said, "Do you see what you'll have to deal with next year?" I said, "I'm not worried. Y'all will be different next year." Several kids were aghast. They were a little horrified by the idea that they would change, and, even when I asked them if they were the same as they had been in fifth grade, didn't seem to recognize that they had already changed and would continue to as they matured. The next year, I had a great time with that fun and energetic (but in a more measured way) group of 8th-graders; and they didn't seem to notice that they were different.
Note: The following stories are about specific people, so I have changed their names.
Speaking of 7th graders, I had a conversation with a custodian a few years ago that made me grateful I am not still being judged on who I was in the 7th grade. A friend was working on her seating chart for a sophomore class, and this custodian said, "It's a good thing you don't have Kyle Fern. You'd be in real trouble." She said, "Why would I be in trouble? He's great and really fun to teach." The incredulous custodian told her about a time when he left a mess in the restroom (I believe he used the phrase "trashed the restroom") after a play rehearsal. This event had happened three years before, but he was not ready ot let it go. Then, he mentioned the same story to me a few days later. I said, "Kyle's just trying to grow up, so maybe you should let go of what he did once in 7th grade." That boy matured into a delightful young man, who I taught physics during his junior year and who I am proud to have taught.
Apparently, God wants me to keep this lesson at the front of my mind because He continues to put examples in front of me. About two weeks into this school year, my math teacher friend said, "You know who I really enjoy this year? Jack Hill." I said, "Whew, I'm glad somebody does. He drove me bananas last year." And he did. He argued about everything and whined in a way a student should have grown out of by the 8th grade. We had quite a bit of friction. Last week, I stopped in her room while she was holding a help session, and he was thinking through a complex problem, answering her questions and just generally being a really great student. I later said to her, "That is not the boy I knew last year." Much like that first year, I thought about just how much we could have gotten done together if that had been the kid in my class.
They are not who they were. They are not yet who they will be. While you can get valuable insight from the previous year's teacher, you should also not assume that what they have said will be your experience with that student. Their maturity level is different, and students interact with different teachers in different ways. Let them show you who they are now.
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