Category Archives: photography

Dear Adjatay

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Adjatay,

You are not “just another Black boy who has been kicked out of school.” You are talented, empathetic, perceptive and thoughtful. I’m sorry I did not get the chance to tell you that one more time before you walked out the doors of our school forever.

Remember the day you made me cry in the middle of class? I wasn’t actually crying because you were throwing trash at me. I was crying because with each flick of wadded up paper, used tissue and broken pencil shred, I saw you throwing away your potential. I saw you giving up on your brilliant self.

Last year, when I first met you, you were reading on a kindergarten reading level. Alberto, Sophia, Cristofer, you and I met every morning to sound out basic phonetic combinations and learn about Spot and Dot. This year, each time you raise your hand to read aloud a 6th grade-level text in class, I beam with pride. You are phenomenal, and you have the potential inside of you to do amazing things.

But we failed you, Adjatay. We couldn’t provide the emotionally safe space you needed to function at your best at school. I am sorry.

“I am sorry.”

Those were the last three words I heard you say as the glass door clicked closed behind you.

We couldn’t let you stay, not after the incident in the cafeteria. Still, I didn’t want to let you go.

Do you know that I fought for you to stay at our school? I stood up to defend you in a room of nine adults. I reminded them of your perceptiveness, your kindness, your talent. I begged them to let you stay.

If you remember nothing else from our two years together, please hear this; you are not a bad kid. You are not a problem. You are not a burden. You are a side effect of a broken system. Your genetic lottery landed you in two dangerous categories in modern American education. You are a Black male, and according to your IEP, you are emotionally disturbed.

Paperwork and official classifications aside, you are missed. You are cared for deeply. Your life matters. You still have at least one adult who hasn’t given up on you yet.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Agustin

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Agustin,

I wish you had told me sooner. I can only help you be successful to the extent that you are honest with me and you let me understand the complexities you are facing.

Pain cannot be silenced. He parades around in disguises when we try to hide him from others, but he will not go away until faced and dealt with.

Without knowing what was occurring in your life outside of school, here is how I described your first semester of 6th grade to your mom in our parent conference yesterday:

In August and September, Agustin was a solid B student. While not always intrinsically motivated, he responded well to reminders to complete his work and stay on task in class. He was pleasant, funny and had perfect attendance. Occasionally, he got a little too silly with his friends, but he would politely and respectfully bring it back when corrected.

 In October and November, Agustin’s grades slipped to low C’s, and he almost never turned in completed homework. He began to display an attitude of careless and reckless behavior. When corrected, he talked back, sulked or even walked out of class. He has not laughed or joked with his friends in his usual, carefree way. He skipped my class on three different occasions in the past month.

Agustin, I wish I could have had this conversation with your mom and your dad. But you and I both know that this is no longer possible. Your dad told me in August that he brought you to this country – facing incredible hardships along the way – so that you could have the best education possible.

Would he be proud of the way you are letting pain and sadness erode the gift he gave you?

Your mom told me that he has applied for a work visa. I am hopeful that you will see him again soon, and during the in-between time, I want to challenge you to make him proud with the decisions you are making. Act every day as if your dad is about to walk back in the door to be reunited with your family forever. Wouldn’t you want him to catch you on your best day with your best grades?

I can only imagine how traumatizing it was to see your dad taken from your dinner table. When those memories surface, I want to challenge you to stay. Don’t walk out of class. You can’t outrun the memory; it’s internal. You have to sit there and face Pain and show him you’re stronger. Channel that rage into becoming the smartest student and the fastest striker on the soccer team.

A student who has the courage to walk out of class has the strength he needs to stay and overcome.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Self

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear self,

Three goals today:

  1. Show up.
  2. Teach the objective.
  3. Be nice. Do not yell or cry.

You will get through this day. You will not worry about tomorrow or the next day or the next day. You will not give up on yourself or your students. They deserve to be taught by an adult who respects them and does not abandon them in a difficult time.

Half of the battle is showing up. Get out of bed, and get going.

Never, never, never quit.

Dear Alberto

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Alberto,

You lost my trust today. From now on, you will stand at the front of the line and Julian will stand in the middle. Neither of you will be at the end of the line, and the two of you will not stand next to each other. Do I make myself clear?

You need to know what I heard and saw, so you can grasp how serious this is. I know that you have your side of the story as well, and I will hear it, but first you need to understand what I observed.

I gave clear directions for the class to line up silently by the door. The 33 students at the front of the line followed my directions, and we all transitioned into the hallway. As we stood outside of Mrs. Titus’ room, one of your classmates ran up to me, breathless.

“Ms. Jackson! Alberto and Julian snuck out of the line! They’re fighting in your classroom!”

As I ran into the room, I saw Julian slumped against the window, with his hands shielding his face. You raised your binder over your head and slammed it onto his hands and face as I yelled, “Stop!”

I had to literally stand in front of Julian to get you two to stop throwing punches. Alberto, you are twice as tall as Julian. You are much stronger, and you used your binder as a weapon.

I am responsible for the 35 young adults in your class, and you two decided to jeopardize your safety and the safety of every other student in my care by foolishly picking a fight in my classroom during the passing period.

It is clear that within the four walls of our school, you feel safe enough to pick a fight. You are bigger and stronger than most boys your age. You feel invincible.

What happens when you pick a fight at Deer Path Park? Or on Illinois Avenue when you’re walking home?

What happens when you look the wrong way at the wrong guys at a stoplight? Ask Keenan. That’s how his brother was shot and killed, less than a mile away at the Jack-in-the-Box on Kiest.

I’m sick of the needless violence. You have to learn now how to channel your emotions without swinging your fists.

You are going to serve your In-School Suspension with the 8th grade tomorrow. By the end of the day, I expect a written apology to Julian, and a written reflection to me, explaining what happened, why it was wrong and what you will do differently next time.

I care too much about you to let you go down this path.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Terrance

Posted on by under education, humor, photography

education, photography, humor

Dear Terrance,

I adore your sense of humor and spunk, but there is a time and a place to be serious and sincere as well. Today was one of those times.

“I will not teach liars and thieves! Get out!” the voice reverberated down the hallway to my classroom.

Mr. Bain’s door opened and closed rather loudly, and I was concerned. It was my planning period, so I walked into the hallway and noticed you standing outside of his room. Your upper lip, left cheek and uniform shirt were covered in a white powder.

“Did Mr. Bain ask you to leave the classroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s try that again.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Why did he ask you to leave?”

You smiled, shuffled your feet and looked down at your shoelaces. A moment later, Mr. Bain opened his classroom door and dropped your binder on the floor. “He cannot come back into my classroom for at least a week!”

You shuffled your feet again.

“Terrance, did you take something from Mr. Bain?”

I walked across the hall and picked up your binder.

“Yeah – uh – I mean, yes. I did. I – ” you giggled slightly and looked up at me with that twinkle in your eyes, “I knewd he had a pack of those donuts he always eatin’. Those white, powdery donuts in that little package. He had one of those in the top drawer in his desk, so I just took ‘em.”

We sat down on the floor in my classroom.

“You just took them?”

“Well… I mean, I ate them. I had to ate them real fast because I was scared he was gonna turn around and catch me behind his desk, so I kinda got that powdery stuff everywhere.”

Handing you a paper towel to clean your face and shirt, I said, “ Terrance, you and I both know that it’s wrong to take food that doesn’t belong to you. Are you hungry? Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

“Naw Miss, I ate breakfast,” I just (giggle, giggle, giggle), “I just wanted to see his face when he knewd his snack was gone!”

I had you stay in my room for the remainder of that class period to learn a lesson about trustworthiness by picking up trash off the floor and cleaning out the student desks.

Just when I thought we were clear about the difference between times to be funny and occasions to be sincere, your classmates filed in my room for English Language Arts. I noticed that you stayed on task and finished your work before class ended, so I gave you the early-finisher activity: Write a card to a family member or teacher for Thanksgiving.

Yours said, “Dear Mr. Bain…”

education, photography, humor

While admittedly hilarious, this is not a heartfelt apology. For homework tonight, you will write a straightforward and sincere apology to Mr. Bain. Save the jokes for your standup routine, and save me a ticket. Let’s pass the sixth grade first, though, and then we can talk about your future plans for your comedy hour on television.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson

Dear Jasmeka

Posted on by under education, photography

education, photography

Dear Jasmeka,

So, you want to be a teacher when you grow up?

Why do you want to be a teacher?

A. I want a job that is rewarding and fulfilling.

B. I want to help people.

C. I want to make a lot of money.

D. I love children and want to make a difference in their lives.

If you chose answer C, you’re correct. I joke, I joke!

A. I want a job that is rewarding and fulfilling. Here’s the truth about being a teacher. It doesn’t always feel rewarding and fulfilling. In fact, most days it’s exhausting and frustrating. I cry more than I cheer.

B. I want to help people. While this sounds noble, I’ve realized that the most powerful thing I can do is to teach my students how to help themselves. Teachers whose main motivation is to help or fix other people end up thinking that they are superheroes. When I look around my classroom, I know without a doubt that the true heroes are the 11 and 12 year olds who are persevering with their academic and character development every day.

C. I want to make a lot of money. I’m hilarious, right? Tip – humor is key as a teacher. If you can’t laugh off the small things, you’ll probably become very, very grumpy.

D. I love children and want to make a difference in their lives. I learned quickly that my love and patience are limited. I have had to constantly remind myself that love is a choice, not an emotion. I want the very best for each and every child in my classroom, so even when I feel frustrated, I still choose to not give up on any of you. And then I have to ask myself, what does it mean to make a difference in someone’s life? Is that self-serving too? Am I teaching because I want to be remembered? Or am I teaching to give a child an opportunity she would not have had in a different classroom?

Let’s try this as an open-ended question: Why do you want to be a teacher?

________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________

Here’s my answer as an example:

I teach because I believe that every child can and will achieve on an absolute scale when given access to quality education and the support he or she needs to be successful. I believe that every life matters, kindness counts, and hard work and self-advocacy are essential life skills to be successful in school and in a career. I teach to open doors of possibility for students to walk confidently through on their own two feet.

Jasmeka, you have the strength and compassion inside you to be an excellent teacher one day. Ground yourself in the reasons why you want to teach so that when frustrating days happen, you stay steady for yourself and your students.

All my love,

-Ms. Jackson