To My Students

For the next six to ten years, you’re going to be defined by numbers.  GPAs, SAT scores, goals scored on the soccer field, number of Facebook friends, number of dates you’ve been on with a boy/girl, locker combinations, school ID numbers, et cetera.  You’ll be tempted to get caught up in these numbers, and chances are that you will. I did.

My hope for you, though, is that you’re able to see beyond all of these figures. I hope that you’re able to remain true to yourself. You’re going to have parents, teachers, and peers throwing advice and demands at you from every which way and you’ll be tempted to care too much about what they all think. Again, I did.  You’re going to realize, though, that although this advice is valuable, it’s all worthless if you lose sight of yourself. Look out for #1….that’s the number you need to focus on. Not in an egotistical way, but in a protective way.  Everything else will fall into place when you keep things in perspective and remember that all of those other numbers will seem small and insignificant down the road. 

As I write this, I have selfish tears streaming down my face. For two school years, you’ve been my pride and joy. People don’t understand when I start thinking about the end of the school year and well up inside.  They haven’t been there for the moments that I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. I know that I’m not supposed to have favorites as a teacher, but you all are my favorite.  We’ve rolled in laughter together, we’ve fought together, we’ve grieved together.  You all have taught me so much more about myself than I ever could have learned on my own sitting in a cubicle. You’ve shown me my weaknesses and you’ve praised me for my strengths.  Sure, there were days when I couldn’t wait for it to be 3:40 when you all would be walking out the door, but I hope that just like I will, you will remember the fun and meaningful moments the most.  The debate over the road less traveled. The skits and rap songs that you came up with in Social Studies. The hours you spent reading with 1^st graders in Reading Buddies.  The improv sessions in Language Arts.  The conversation where we established that you need to take the SOLs seriously, but that they are by no means the end of the world. The time I reminded you that the internet is a scary place if you’re not careful.  The discussions that we had about what it means to respect someone’s opinion, even if you don’t agree with it. 

These are the moments I want you to remember. You’re supposed to remember the zillion facts that I was expected to cram into your head this year, and chances are many of you will since you’re so incredibly smart.  I want you to remember those other moments first, though.  I worry about you all because I’m well aware of the pressures that are anxiously waiting to take hold of you in the near future.  I worry that it will be too much for some of you and you’ll begin to despise school. Then I remember how incredibly resilient so many of you are.  You’re brave and hard-working. You persevere through challenges and you come out so much stronger and wiser on the other end.  Remember how much you complained about the fact that I was requiring you to compose a twenty page creative writing story? Remember how stinking proud you were of yourselves when you realized that you could do it AND that the stories were incredible? That’s the pride and perseverance that I want you to carry with you for the rest of your lives.

I fear for next year because I know that although the group coming up may end up being great, they won’t be you.  They won’t be the kids that make me jump out of bed some mornings because I’m so excited about our day ahead. They won’t be the kids that call Christopher Mr. Micocci. They won’t be the kids that I was blessed to have taught my first year in the classroom.

Thank you for being the best group a teacher could have dreamed of.  As sad as I am to promote you at the end of the week and as tempted as I am to move along to middle and high school with you, I am so excited to see where you all go in life.  You inspire those around you, myself included. While you won’t understand for many years why in the world a teacher would feel so indebted toward a group of kids, I truly am indebted to you and I’m forever grateful that I had the honor of spending so many memorable hours with you in the classroom.  

Love,

Miss Micocci