So my grade book screams “D” and you earned it.
But in my book of life your name shouts “A” and you should know it.
I like you.
I believe in you.
Your simple being astounds me.
If only you knew how highly I esteem you, the eternal light inside you, the potential curled in your belly like a dormant walnut inside a shell awaiting his nutcracker, then you would not pout now. I see your own hand around the cracker’s handle some day, its teeth biting for grip, digging in to squeeze yourself out.
You are so much bigger than this little F attempting to shrink you. Don’t buy this crap.
And believe me, if I could get over the fear of being fired or called “ weak” or “easy,” if my ego could take the hit, than I would write you an “A” and stamp it loudly on the paper you never turned in because I love you like I love every human being and in you I only see rainbows.
Best of luck,
--Ms. D
I wrote this little poem/letter after a lunch conversation with one of my favorite colleagues. We are grading final papers and it is an incredible drain on our energy. Why is it so hard to spend hours grading? Because we have to focus on telling students what they did wrong rather than what they did right, justifying our "B" on their paper with a red circle here, a critical comment there. I fear they will misinterpret my comments on their papers for my assessment of their person, which makes me feel guilty for each red mark on the page, like I'm hurting a beloved with my pen. I know it sounds overly-self important to think my comments affect students that much, but I do worry about it. I wish I could just write "I love you!" on every paper, and give a little feedback about their work and leave it at that. What a bleeding heart right!? What to do what to do.
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