As the first semester of the school year winds down I feel a shiver run down my spine. Entering final grades always reminds me of the time I failed a student and denied him graduation.
Well. At least I tried…
In June 2018 I was finishing my first year as a teacher. It had been one of the toughest years in my life. In almost every imaginable criteria I had failed both the school’s and my own criteria for effective teaching. Students had blatantly ignored my directions, disregarded any attempt I had made to impose order, and kicked down locked closet doors to steal basketballs. About every two weeks a fight broke out in the gym, and most days I had to have a conversation with myself to get out of bed. The kids had put me through the ringer.
I only had one piece of solace. I was going to fail a kid we’ll call Sam. Sam had skipped damn near every single first period P.E. class with the bare exception of when he once came in high as a kite with five minutes left. I had offered him the the opportunity to make up those classes at after school weightlifting which he ignored. I am not a huge believer in schadenfreude, but this kid had also stolen twenty dollars from Paul, a student part of my school’s special education program, and Paul was one of the few kids who had shown me any decency all year long. So sue me, I was excited to fail a student.
When I started venting with the “veteran teachers” (in our school, veteran means around 4 years of teaching) about how poorly this kid treated other kids and how he had done absolutely nothing in my class they nodded in sympathy. When I said I intended to fail him, they gave me a sad smile. One of them said, “When they come for you, hold strong.” When I asked what the hell that meant, they told me the administration wasn’t going to allow him to fail.
In an effort to take away any reasoning the administration could have to make me pass Sam, I gave him one last chance. I set up 6 make-up weightlifting classes. I told him explicitly that he needed to show up on time, and complete the workouts. If he did that, then I would pass him for an entire year of skipping the first period.
To my surprise, he showed up on time to the first class in workout clothes. He paid attention to instruction, and he actually learned to bench press with pretty decent form. He put in a solid workout and actually looked a little pleased with himself. “I’ll be damned,” I thought to myself. Maybe I wouldn’t have to fail Sam after all.
He did the same on the 2nd and 3rd day. I was pleased, I was actually managing to teach this kid something. We were building a relationship that had been non-existent all year long. Unfortunately problems struck on the 4th day; he came in 20 minutes late. I was pissed, he explicitly knew the expectations I had set for him. He had been late or non-existent for the entire year, so showing up on time was part his make-up requirements - perhaps the most important requirement. I told him to go home and come back the next day. When he asked how he was supposed to do all 6 workouts I told him I would do one more make-up day for him, but he had to be on time in order for me to pass him.
The 5th day shoved the nail in his coffin. He came in 30 min late, and he was high. I was pissed. I felt like I had built some momentum with him over the past three days and now he just flushed it all away. He asked what we were doing in a stupefied voice and I just told him, “that's it man, you lost your chance to graduate.” He looked at me in disbelief, then he asked what he could do. I said, “Nothing. You knew what the expectations were, you knew what you needed to do in order to pass this class, you broke those expectations yesterday and now you broke them today. I can’t pass a student who skipped every single one of my classes and then arrives late to the make-up class I made specifically for him. I’m done.”
He looked around in disbelief and left the gym with tears in his eyes. I felt like shit, but at the same time, I knew this was for the best. High school is training wheels for life. We’re meant to prepare kids the best we can for life outside our concrete walls - it's way harder out there. I knew I’d prefer for him to fail now and learn the lesson rather than fail later when the stakes were higher. If I couldn’t teach him because he didn’t attend any class, the least I could do was allow him to learn from the consequences of that decision.
Or so I thought.
Within 5 minutes the assistant principal had come down to the gymnasium. She didn’t even bother to have a conversation with me or ask why I came to the decision I did. She just got right in my face and said, “You need to give Sam another chance.” I was outraged. Here was a kid who hadn’t attended a single full class of P.E. and here I was spending my own time for 6 separate make-up classes to help a student who had come to school high as a kite every single day. He stole from kids, ignored my requests for him to make up classes at after school weightlifting, and was, generally speaking, an asshole.
Apparently, I needed to give him another chance.
I dug my heels in. “Maam, all due respect, I’ve given him enough chances.”
“He’s upstairs crying in the hallway because all he wants to do is complete your make-up class. Why won’t you let him?”
“Because I’m trying to uphold expectations. I told him he had to show up on time. From day one, you’ve told us teachers to hold high expectations. I’d say showing up on time is the bare minimum.”
She paused at that, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. She said, “I’m going to have to tell the principal about this.”
“Do it.” I said in the flattest voice possible, and she left.
This kid had gone crying to the administration and to my absolute rookie teacher shock, the administration was backing him up. When the principal came down I braced for the worst. I had had a completely ineffective year of teaching. My observation scores all started with “ineffective,” or “still developing.” On top of that, in a small high school with 50 graduating seniors, every senior counted for 2% of the graduation rate - which is the main stat every principal is graded on. Here I was, standing in the way of 2 points on my bosses report card. I thought I was about to get fired.
To his credit, he asked me what the situation was, and he listened to every word I said. When I got to the end of my reasoning, he said he would leave the decision in my hands…but it didn’t stop him from asking me to give the kid another chance. As a teacher who wasn’t tenured I did what everybody else does in that situation. I caved.
After 2 hours of letting him cry himself into a nap in the hallway, I took him aside and said one more chance. That's it. The next three days he showed up a half hour early and completed the other three workouts. He put on his gown and walked at graduation.
My administration applauded my compassion after the fact, but the memory has always left me with a bad taste in my mouth. It’s a story of toxic compassion. The administration placed the students' short term emotions over his long term understanding of the truth.
This thought process is riddled into school and society at large. Don’t post the results of tryouts anymore because it’ll damage student egos. Avoid telling your friend her abusive boyfriend is bad for her, she’ll hate you for it. A student can’t get below a 55 on their work, a full zero holds them back to much. Never discuss your finances in public, people will judge you for it. Never punish students by making them run running laps - that’s abusive. Don’t tell a type II diabetic to stop eating cake, they need the emotional support from that food.
Never mind that it’s killing them.
As a teacher I want my class to mean something when you get A. Hell, I want my students to have a sense of accomplishment if they manage to pass it. The greatest moments of joy almost always follow a long period of struggle. When we guarantee a passing grade to students who haven’t earned it in order to protect their emotions, we actually rob them of the emotions we want them to associate with hard work.
I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, if a school has a 99% graduation rate then the question everyone should ask is why is it so easy to pass? True compassion is care for the student’s long term improvement, and yes, this means all students need to learn how to deal with failure and the negative emotions that come along with it.
Administrations need to stop worrying so much about student’s emotions. They need to worry about how to make them better.
Mr. Salutatorian here, I always disliked that they would do that. Me and Alba would talk to turrie about how it’s stupid that kids that don’t necessarily do anything got rewarded for their bad behavior. It diminishes the efforts of those who genuinely care and try to be up too par. Gg tho