Look for Me

No cake, though.

Today my TFA coach surprised me performing the Norwegian Happy Birthday song for a student. It involves hopping, marching, skipping, and dancing, and I told him to close the door and count to 30 before he came back in: there are some things you can do in front of a class of high school students that you just can’t do in front of adults.

I recently volunteered my classroom for use by some math tutoring groups during my planning period. Today, for the first time, I was in the classroom while they were there, and I got to observe the adorable little freshmen vying to answer questions and get the reward of chocolate.

They had a lot of questions for me: What class is this? What is psychology? Are you a therapist? Where did you go to college? What grades do you teach? When can I take this? What’s that on the wall?

The tutor told me that every group that comes in here wants to take psychology. It makes me feel good—it means that my classroom gives off interesting, warm vibes even when nobody’s in it. Even without a projector or all of the ceiling tiles in their proper positions.

One student remained behind when the rest walked back to their regular class.

“You staying with me?” I asked.

“Yuh-huh,” he said.

“Okay. Make yourself comfortable.”

There was a pause, in which I continued grading and he looked down at his phone.

“I gotta go.”

Good. I made it boring enough. Go to class. I looked up and nodded briefly, then threw in a wave.

“But I’ll be back. In two years, when I’m a junior, I’m going to take this class. Look for me. I’ll be here.” He ambled out, and I thought about the stability that such a request implied. In this school, teachers last on average one year, with several quitting mid-semester and a dedicated few sticking it out for two years (TFA for the win), and then those amazing people who have been here for years and would never leave. Many of my students have already begun to ask me, plaintively, if I’ll be here next year; they know the odds. "Look for me," is an increasingly unrealistic thing to say to a rapidly revolving staff. The children are the only ones likely to remain for a full four years, and even they are beating the odds when they do.

But wherever I am, students o' mine, look for me, and I'll be looking out for you.