One day a student fled my room on the verge of tears. She is one who could be characterized as a screamer, and recently I had tried combating her peals by making fun of her, downplaying the situation with phrases like, "That hurt my ears." She usually smiled at my jokes, so I continued joking with her.
But the day she fled my room was the day I may have said the wrong thing. I said, "Don't scream, it scares me." And then another student said something to her that I didn't hear, and then she left.
Feeling bad and not a little bit guilty, I wrote a note to her and asked another student to deliver it to her. What followed was a written exchange that was rather meaningful and meditated–a stark contrast to the frantic verbal interactions that normally consume my day. In light of this, I wanted to share this insightful note (and others) with you.
I started my apology note like this...
To [Student],
I apologize for saying I'm scared of you because you scream at me. I was only kidding and meant it only in good fun. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings, but if I did I'm very sorry.
Your teacher,
Mr. Londberg
It wasn't because of you it was because of [another student]. She said that ya scared of me b/c I'm big and I hate being called big.
That was mean of [the other student] to say that. Try not to let people get to you. The only thing that matters is how you feel. [Other student] can't control that, only you can.
But what she said made me feel bad and I'm just ready to let go.
Hang in there. It is a great feeling to learn how to feel good even when people are mean to you. Even I'm still learning how to do it.
Well it's not a great feeling to hear that.
I'm sure it's not a good feeling. Maybe it would help if [other student] apologized?
She's not going to apologize. It's [other student].
...
I often forget that these students are fragile little balls of emotions; they feel things more intensely than do adults, and they frequently become utterly consumed with these emotions.
Anyway, on another occasion, a student was visibly pissed off. He repeatedly asked to leave the room because he didn't want to be near another student, who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. A memorable written exchange began between us. We sat next to each other at the back of the room and didn't speak but instead wrote back and forth on the same piece of paper.
Here's what was written...
Why are you angry? How can you be less angry?
I'm angry because [his ex-girlfriend] always thinks she is tuff and she keep making lies saying to [his friend] I'm not her friend and she said she feels like I'm taking her away from her. But I'm not and if she keep talking all that she wish she did not say anything.
I can solve this by staying away from her or talk to my Mom about it.
Why do you think [ex-girlfriend] is saying those things?
I think that because when we was going out everything was good and I found out that she was cheating on me and I broke up with her and now she is mad about that.
You're probably right. She might still care for you, which is why she's saying these things–because she wants you to still be her friend. Can you be friends with both [other friend] and [ex-girlfriend].
I will be friends with [friend] not [ex-girlfriend] and she is mad because of that. I don't know what to do about [ex-girlfriend].
Well it seems like you have two options: You can tell [ex-girlfriend] that it is too hard for you to be friends with her, or you can not tell her and try not to talk to her as much.
I don't want to talk to her at all.
Then you don't have to talk to her. The important thing is to not hurt her. If you don't talk to her, try your hardest not to hurt her feelings. If you have to, you might have to be honest and just tell her that you can't be friends anymore. That will be hard, but it might make her feel better than if you just start ignoring her.
...
The above exchange took place on two sheets of paper. I tried to keep both of them as the class ended–because they meant something to me–but the student asked to keep one of them. I let him, hoping the note meant something to him, too.
Finally, the third time this happened was yesterday. A student asked if she could write instead of read with the class. I asked her what she'd be writing about, and she said she wanted to write about life. I asked if I could read it when she was done and she nodded her head.
Thirty minutes later, as my really great instruction was winding down (and I was migrating to the nearest seat to watch students play games on their phones and so I could enter attendance/text people/close my eyes and daydream about lunch being extended by ten minutes), the student finished her writing project and handed me the paper. Here's what it said (and my accompanying response)...
I've been through so much in my life. They say pain is only temporary but believe me in my case that's a lie. I guess I've always felt like this it's nothing new. I feel nothing no happiness no anger just pain. I'm used to rejection, loneliness and judgement. I've had enough to cherish a lifetime so hurt me in any way you can do it as your heart contents nobodys stopping you. I let my walls fall for you but you pushed me away. At some point during the day I sit down just thinking to myself what else can go wrong. So now I'm running away even though I might not find my way back and finally I'm gone.
The fact that you wrote that makes you a very smart, thoughtful young person. I know what you mean by pain not being temporary. Believe it or not, I feel pain every day too. Because of the friends I’ve lost and the mistakes I’ve made. But I’ve learned that life is a balance–if you get through the painful parts, happy times will follow. Getting through pain makes you stronger, and you are a strong girl.
...
A colleague and friend once said that impoverished students don't commit suicide, that such an act only happens in suburbia. He said that our students and others like them have simply become accustomed to turmoil–they experience it every day and thus don't have crushing lows that lead them to take their own lives. That has stuck with me even months after he said it.
That final note that I just shared speaks to his point. It was written by a seventh grader, and when I was that age, I don't believe that I could even fathom the deeply and painfully felt emotion that brought her to write what she did. But I didn't grow up in turmoil like she is (presumably) doing.
But the day she fled my room was the day I may have said the wrong thing. I said, "Don't scream, it scares me." And then another student said something to her that I didn't hear, and then she left.
Feeling bad and not a little bit guilty, I wrote a note to her and asked another student to deliver it to her. What followed was a written exchange that was rather meaningful and meditated–a stark contrast to the frantic verbal interactions that normally consume my day. In light of this, I wanted to share this insightful note (and others) with you.
I started my apology note like this...
To [Student],
I apologize for saying I'm scared of you because you scream at me. I was only kidding and meant it only in good fun. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings, but if I did I'm very sorry.
Your teacher,
Mr. Londberg
It wasn't because of you it was because of [another student]. She said that ya scared of me b/c I'm big and I hate being called big.
That was mean of [the other student] to say that. Try not to let people get to you. The only thing that matters is how you feel. [Other student] can't control that, only you can.
But what she said made me feel bad and I'm just ready to let go.
Hang in there. It is a great feeling to learn how to feel good even when people are mean to you. Even I'm still learning how to do it.
Well it's not a great feeling to hear that.
I'm sure it's not a good feeling. Maybe it would help if [other student] apologized?
She's not going to apologize. It's [other student].
...
I often forget that these students are fragile little balls of emotions; they feel things more intensely than do adults, and they frequently become utterly consumed with these emotions.
Anyway, on another occasion, a student was visibly pissed off. He repeatedly asked to leave the room because he didn't want to be near another student, who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. A memorable written exchange began between us. We sat next to each other at the back of the room and didn't speak but instead wrote back and forth on the same piece of paper.
Here's what was written...
Why are you angry? How can you be less angry?
I'm angry because [his ex-girlfriend] always thinks she is tuff and she keep making lies saying to [his friend] I'm not her friend and she said she feels like I'm taking her away from her. But I'm not and if she keep talking all that she wish she did not say anything.
I can solve this by staying away from her or talk to my Mom about it.
Why do you think [ex-girlfriend] is saying those things?
I think that because when we was going out everything was good and I found out that she was cheating on me and I broke up with her and now she is mad about that.
You're probably right. She might still care for you, which is why she's saying these things–because she wants you to still be her friend. Can you be friends with both [other friend] and [ex-girlfriend].
I will be friends with [friend] not [ex-girlfriend] and she is mad because of that. I don't know what to do about [ex-girlfriend].
Well it seems like you have two options: You can tell [ex-girlfriend] that it is too hard for you to be friends with her, or you can not tell her and try not to talk to her as much.
I don't want to talk to her at all.
Then you don't have to talk to her. The important thing is to not hurt her. If you don't talk to her, try your hardest not to hurt her feelings. If you have to, you might have to be honest and just tell her that you can't be friends anymore. That will be hard, but it might make her feel better than if you just start ignoring her.
...
The above exchange took place on two sheets of paper. I tried to keep both of them as the class ended–because they meant something to me–but the student asked to keep one of them. I let him, hoping the note meant something to him, too.
Finally, the third time this happened was yesterday. A student asked if she could write instead of read with the class. I asked her what she'd be writing about, and she said she wanted to write about life. I asked if I could read it when she was done and she nodded her head.
Thirty minutes later, as my really great instruction was winding down (and I was migrating to the nearest seat to watch students play games on their phones and so I could enter attendance/text people/close my eyes and daydream about lunch being extended by ten minutes), the student finished her writing project and handed me the paper. Here's what it said (and my accompanying response)...
I've been through so much in my life. They say pain is only temporary but believe me in my case that's a lie. I guess I've always felt like this it's nothing new. I feel nothing no happiness no anger just pain. I'm used to rejection, loneliness and judgement. I've had enough to cherish a lifetime so hurt me in any way you can do it as your heart contents nobodys stopping you. I let my walls fall for you but you pushed me away. At some point during the day I sit down just thinking to myself what else can go wrong. So now I'm running away even though I might not find my way back and finally I'm gone.
The fact that you wrote that makes you a very smart, thoughtful young person. I know what you mean by pain not being temporary. Believe it or not, I feel pain every day too. Because of the friends I’ve lost and the mistakes I’ve made. But I’ve learned that life is a balance–if you get through the painful parts, happy times will follow. Getting through pain makes you stronger, and you are a strong girl.
...
A colleague and friend once said that impoverished students don't commit suicide, that such an act only happens in suburbia. He said that our students and others like them have simply become accustomed to turmoil–they experience it every day and thus don't have crushing lows that lead them to take their own lives. That has stuck with me even months after he said it.
That final note that I just shared speaks to his point. It was written by a seventh grader, and when I was that age, I don't believe that I could even fathom the deeply and painfully felt emotion that brought her to write what she did. But I didn't grow up in turmoil like she is (presumably) doing.