Carpe Diem (a philosophical rambling)

Teaching seniors is hard. Teaching seniors during the last month before graduation and attempting to instill some kind of appreciation and enthusiasm for Hamlet is reckless behavior. Yet, that's exactly what I am doing. Kelly Gallagher describes it best:

"I have done many difficult things in my life. I have run a marathon. I have eaten escargot to impress a date. I have sat in the middle seat of a cross-country flight, wedged between a snorer and a person in desperate need of Gas-X. Worse, I have sat through an episode of Sex and the City. But all of these pale in comparison to the hardest thing I have ever done: stand in front of thirty-seven teenagers with the expressed purpose of teaching Hamlet." 

He defends this seemingly impossible task by saying that if we help students see the reward of the hard work it takes to tackle a complex text, they will surprise you and work hard. I'm not sure how successful I've been at doing that this year. I'm trying, but I'm also wondering if there's a better way to close their year.

I've been thinking about how tricky it is to "sell" students on the things we ask them to do. In my two years of teaching seniors, I quickly learned that it's a lot easier to enthuse a seventh grader than it is to enthuse a twelfth grader. They are more likely to smell the BS in an assignment. I also quickly learned that seniors are a lot more guarded than middle schoolers (a strange paradox). You have to pry them open to get them to talk about anything close to their hearts.

How do I get these people to listen? How do I get them to see that something like Hamlet adds anything of value to your life?  How do I convince a kid whose plans beyond high school are non-existent that he/she needs to listen to the soliloquies of Polonius and Claudius who are essentially two old white dudes spouting off wisdom? How do I get them to see that what I'm offering them is so much more than an English lesson?  How do I help them imagine their future to see the hard work pay off? How do I convince them to take on more challenging work? How do I encourage them to take risks in their learning?

I don't know any of these answers, but I'm may or may not be imagining myself on some rock, pondering with the same earnestness as Hamlet, asking about the nobility of "taking arms against a sea of troubles". "To teach or not to teach"...is that even a question?

Back to reality. I recently connected with some of last year's seniors and asked them to share lessons they've learned in their first year out of high school. The feedback I got, I think, is just as important for teachers to hear as students.

There were some common ideas that arise in their reflections:

• Wishing they would have challenged themselves more in high school and paid more attention
• Learning to be more open-minded and less judgmental
• Realizing the importance of getting involved and staying physically fit
• Learning to prepare for deadlines that are more strictly enforced in "the real world"
• Not spending too much time comparing themselves to others
• Finding a way to manage homework, jobs, and personal lives
• Making new friends in and getting out of their comfort zone

The one repeated idea that really resonates is that students, at least in hindsight, wanted us to challenge them more...but can we convince a high school senior that they want these things now, and they just don't know it yet?

All of those lessons are things that parents, teachers, coaches, counselors, and other mentors try to relay to kids, but it seems the message doesn't always stick. During my first year of college, I remember wishing I'd worked harder and cared less about what others' thought in high school. I'm sure someone, at some point, warned me about the challenges of college and life beyond high school. I'm not sure I listened either. In fact, my grades from my first two semesters prove I didn't listen. So, maybe these lessons can only be learned by making mistakes.

One of my most influential teachers in high school had the motto carpe diem in large letters at the front of his room. He told us to seize the day....every day. I've never forgotten that, and sometimes when I'm dragging my feet, I remind myself to carpe the freaking diem, and it helps me, if only temporarily to get off my duff, roll up my sleeves, and get back to the work of being a better human.

So, in the end, maybe we need to stop instilling anxiety in students about their impending, looming, dooming future. Maybe they don't need another talk about how they are screwing up their future. Instead, we might just need to convince them to make the most out of today. Carpe diem, seniors, carpe diem. Today, and every day.