Tag Archives: inspiration
Dear Keenan
Dear Keenan,
When you pretend to be what you are not, you become what you pretend to be. You are not a kid who doesn’t care about school. Unfortunately, when you played around on the reading diagnostic, you earned a score so low that you qualified for the Read 180 program. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great program, but you don’t need it.
In your attempt to convince your classmates that you’re cool, you took the easy route: playing dumb. Because of this, you will continue to attend Read 180 instead of staying in my classroom for morning advisory with the boys you are so eager to impress. Shaun tried his best on that reading diagnostic, and he scored above grade level. That’s not just cool, that’s admirable. He’s a leader for the right reasons. You could be too.
This program will reassess your reading level as you take weekly tests. I am challenging you to beat Shaun’s reading level by January. I dare you to be the best reader and leader the 6th grade has seen this year.
All my love,
-Ms. Jackson
P.S. – you should check out Walter Dean Myers. He has several books that I think you would enjoy reading. Start with Scorpions, and if you like it, try Monster next. Both books are in my classroom library.
Dear Consuelo
Dear Consuelo,
On October 22 of my first year of teaching, I bandaged blisters on both of my heels after a long day of school. Physical injuries don’t last as long as sores on your soul, though, do they? When I think back to this day, I know that I would do it all over again for you if it would help your heart mend.
Making copies in the front office, I glanced out the window. Coach was instructing the class to run laps for the last 5 minutes of P.E. on the basketball court.
9:11 a.m.: I noticed an unusual amount of attention on you. Alex was red-faced, and I could even hear his voice inside.
“Come on, Consuelo!”
Concerned and curious, I finished my copies and walked outside.
“Again!” Coach bellowed and blew the whistle.
Each of your teammates started sprinting around the basketball court, except you.
Colin screamed, “Run, Consuelo, run!”
“What wrong with you, girl?” Jada yelled from across the court.
9:12 a.m.: Coach checked his watch. Mia was the last to stumble to Coach at the end of the court. You were still standing with your back against the chain link fence.
“We are one team and one family. We will run again until every single teammate runs a lap in less than 60 seconds.” Coach blew the whistle again.
Chaos swelled to a feverish pitch. I actually thought a few of the boys were going to post up and come after you. Suddenly, I found myself at your side. The tears in your eyes splashed onto my red wedges.
“Oh Miss, I’m sorry –”
“Consuelo, if I run this lap, will you run with me?”
I was nervous, unsure if you would move, and worried that Coach would make your class run until a fight broke out.
“We have 41 seconds left. Will you run with me? I don’t want to run by myself!” – I said.
Your eyes widened, looking at my shoes, my pencil skirt, and the clipboard in my hand.
“39 seconds. Let’s do this! Together.”
Yes, I know my hair looked “nappy” the rest of the day (thanks to J.J. for that description) and my outfit was a little wrinkled. But seeing you smile, just a little, through those tears and watching you work up the courage to jog alongside me made it absolutely worth it.
Now here we are, one year later, and you are still running endless laps surrounded by the agitated taunts of a new class of 11 and 12 year-olds. Where has your stubborn spirit taken you, Consuelo? You are still on that basketball court, only you’re 13 now, the oldest in the 6th grade. You cannot afford to drag your feet and refuse to work anymore. You did not perform academically last year, piddling with your schoolwork, and devastatingly, you failed every class.
When we divided up rosters this year, I requested you in my homeroom. We’re running this lap together, you and I, sixth grade, round two. This year, we’re going to run for the feel of the wind and the joy of hard work bursting in our lungs.
Right next to you every step of the way.
All my love,
-Ms. Jackson
From Ana
Dear Michael
Dear Michael,
You need to believe with every fiber of your being that you are an intelligent young man. I know that reading is a challenge for you, but that certainly doesn’t mean that you are “dumb” or “stupid.”
When I look at you – finger to the text, training your eyes and your mind to sound out the words you don’t yet know how to pronounce – I picture Jonas from The Giver. You have this ability to see beyond the words on the page. In some ways you’re limited by years of neglect from teachers who have passed you along without equipping you with the reading skills you need. And yet, every day I watch as you push yourself to overcome these limitations, gleaning the information you need to be successful from listening, observing, and applying your life experience to class.
Your comment in class today is a great example of your intelligence and thoughtfulness.
Me: “What makes Kira different from the other people in her village?”
You: “Hey Miss, could we say ‘unique’ instead of ‘different’? Different sounds negative to me, and Kira isn’t different in a bad way, you know? I mean she’s crippled, but she’s unique in good ways too, right?”
It’s not often a student who is reading on a 2nd grade level thoughtfully critiques a question I pose in class. You are a leader in my classroom, though I don’t think you see yourself that way.
When I call on you to read aloud in front of the class, I see you cringe with dread. But I also see Jerome, Lamar and Romone sit up straight in their desks and retrain their eyes on the story when you begin to read. Your courage inspires other hesitant readers to participate. The students in this classroom admire you. They want to do what you do.
Thank you for your leadership and your bravery. With perseverance and grit, reading will get easier. You will learn to read comfortably and fluently this year as long as you don’t give up on yourself and on the work I am giving you.
All my love,
-Ms. Jackson
Dear Lincoln
Dear Lincoln,
If you have something to say, say it loud and clear. Stand up and speak up for what you believe in. We are done with the cowardly comments huffed under your breath and the incessant whispers to your friends.
Let me be very straightforward. I’m not angry that you have been repeatedly murmuring the word “racist” in my classroom. I’m upset that you’re not saying it louder.
I want you to call out racism. Point a finger in its hideous face and say what you really think. We need voices that will bravely demand an explanation for actions that oppress and harm others. What we do not need is a kid who’s trying to raise a reaction in my classroom or get a high five from his best friend by whispering the word “racist” every time anyone says “black,” “brown, or “white” to describe someone’s skin color.
Don’t hide behind jokes and whispers. It’s time to grow up and become a young man who can articulate his thoughts and beliefs in a way that challenges and inspires others. Call out injustice and discrimination when you see it. And I hope you see it, because it is all around you.
Let’s call out the fact that due to years of oppression and lack of opportunity you, as a young Black man from Oak Cliff, have a much greater chance of going to prison than college. That sir, is a result of racism.
I want you to boldly talk about how angry it makes you feel that there is a racial divide in Dallas. You have every right to be mad, because you don’t have the same opportunities as a 12-year-old student growing up in North Dallas.
Discuss the fact that I am one of four White people you have met in your entire life. It’s ok to say that I’m White. It’s not racist to acknowledge the color of my skin. I’m not offended. But I am angry.
I am angry that you would rather waste your breath being the funny guy than say those same words with conviction and purpose. Honor your heritage. Live up to the greatness that you come from. Be a young man who fights injustice and oppression, not a boy who makes empty objections and distracting jokes.
If you see, hear or experience racist language or actions, call it out. All other distracting and silly side comments are not welcome in my classroom.
All my love,
-Ms. Jackson
From Adriana
Dear Denzel
Dear Denzel,
Since the first day of school, your raised hand, waiving impatiently back and forth in the middle of my lesson signaled that you were about to issue a complaint:
It’s hot in here, Miss!
I don’t feel like doin’ work today.
I’m bored.
I’m hungry. When do lunch start?
Truthfully, I had become so exasperated with your lethargic attitude that I thought you were completely tuning out my teaching.
Today you changed your attitude and my mind about calling on you. By refocusing all your energy from complaining, into searching the story for figurative language, you became a simile sleuth! Throughout class, I couldn’t help but smile to see your hand waving excitedly in the air, because I knew you weren’t going to ask about lunch but that you were prepared to share the meaning behind a metaphor.
And that was only the start of your awesomeness. When I made a mistake in the notes and switched the definitions of simile and metaphor, you did not suck your teeth, call out or argue. You set an amazing example for your classmates by silently raising your hand and waiting for me to call on you.
Thank you for saving me from teaching simile and metaphor incorrectly all day. I am proud of you, Simile Sleuth/ Metaphor Man!
All my love,
-Ms. Jackson
Rivers & Roads 