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Welcome back. Now smile.

By August 2, 2017November 26th, 2021Teaching Social Justice

We’re going back to school soon. You’re probably going to hear some teachers talk about how they won’t smile at their students until October. At some point, an older teacher might have given you the advice to start the year off cold and gradually warm up to your kids. But only once you’ve broken them in.

Ignore this advice. This advice is bullshit. Smile. Laugh. Be a human being and treat your children like human beings.

Schooling is often a dehumanizing process. We do not teach within structures naturally designed to inspire joy, love, and agency. The pressures around us to develop strong test-takers, to produce children who spark, to teach critical thinking (but only if what they’re challenging is safe and approved), to break identity and relationships into a tidy set of lessons, is often overwhelming.

Don’t give in to it on your first day back.

Don’t give in to it at all.

Give your kids a hug when you see them. Tell your students a few stories about your summer. Share an embarrassing story. Provide opportunities for them to share their stories. Develop a culture where it’s okay for kids to laugh with each other, where it’s okay for kids to laugh with you. It will be louder than the stoic next door. It might take you a bit more time to get into the standards. You might find yourself having more conversations with kids about their choices and their words than you usually do. I hope you find yourself having more of those conversations.

Those conversations are when we, as a collective, are at our finest. They’re when we build relationships, when we build community, when we build love, and when we build high-performing classrooms. See, people learn better when they feel safe and validated. They learn better when they feel included. They learn better when they don’t want to let one another down, and when they can call one another out when they do. They learn better when the focus is on education, rather than schooling. They learn better when the process belongs to them, too.

We are complex creatures. To erase our humanity, to reduce us to action/reaction, input/output, or to a script, is to devalue and dehumanize us. Celebrate our complexity. Embrace our messiness. Wonder. About us; about yourself. Learn. Seriously, learn. Not about classroom management or popular new educational trends, but about the human beings with whom you co-exist each and every day.

You aren’t lowering the stakes by smiling on the first day. You aren’t establishing a year of low expectations. You’re doing the precise opposite. You are constructing one of MLK’s Beloved Communities; you are dancing in the margins of Gloria Anzaldúa’s borderzones. You are setting yourself up for a year of stories and change.

Am I being overly optimistic right now? Hell yeah I am. It’s the beginning of the year. I have to be. Things are going to be messy. There are going to be days where I lash out, where I’m more punitive than I’d like to be, when I rely upon my power too much. There are going to be kids I feel like I just can’t get to. Some days I’ll feel like they only respond to yelling, and so I’ll yell. It won’t feel good.

We need the messy, beautiful, chaotic joy of living to be embedded in our classrooms.

I’ve been around this block before. I am under no illusions that classrooms are utopian, harmonious places. But then again, I’ve never particularly trusted utopian narratives. We need a little friction. We need the messy, beautiful, chaotic joy of life to be embedded in our classrooms. We need to let kids screw up, love them, expect better of them, and help them expect better of themselves. We need to grow together.

For many teachers, summer is a refuge, a time to recharge. Netflix and chill. But it isn’t so idyllic for everyone. Maybe you or your colleagues are returning to your classrooms while living through your own trauma. Many of our students certainly will be. For many of them, summer is a time of heightened family conflict and missed meals.

So when they walk in your classroom on the first day, they don’t need your bullshit about how serious school is. They don’t need your insecurities projected onto them. They need your love. They need to know that laughter and learning go hand in hand. They need to know that it’s okay to be vulnerable.

We all do.