A Teacher’s Valentine’s Day Letter to Her Students
You’re at a difficult age, but you aren’t difficult to me
When people learn that I teach middle schoolers, the reactions are usually one of three:
- Oh, goodness, middle schoolers? You must be a saint.
- Hmm…it’s an interesting age, for sure.
- Dear lord, I could never. Are you waiting for a high school job to open up? Elementary?
Yes, 13 year olds can be difficult. They can be moody, rude, gossipy, and downright cruel on their worst days. However, they can also be funny, sweet, vulnerable, and authentic.
Coming back from any extended break or weekend, I greet my 8th graders the same way at the beginning of each class: “Welcome back everyone! I hope you had a restful break. It is great to see you all again!”
Time and time again, at least one student will pipe up (typically a boy) in some variety of “that’s cap” or “you’re lying” or “you don’t actually mean that.” Even middle schoolers buy into this idea that their age is the worst to be around, so how on Earth could I be glad to see them again?
The answer is easy. I love them. I love all of them, even the ones who call me “bruh” or roll their eyes at my jokes, the ones who never do a single assignment, and the ones whose helicopter parents email me every single day about why they didn’t earn full credit on whatever project.
I love these tiny almost-humans because throughout the school year, I have the privilege and honor of watching them begin to grow up and grow into themselves.
So, in a hopefully non-cringey way, this is a love letter for my students, past and present, for this Valentine’s Day.
Dear students,
I love you for your weird jokes I will never fully understand and urge to bust out random TikTok dances during a lesson. I love you for your smiles when you’ve gotten an answer right, even though you weren’t the one to raise your hand and answer the question. I love you for your competitive side when we play review games before a vocabulary quiz, shouting “LET’S GOOOO!” periodically, without prompting, or the need for anyone to acknowledge the outburst.
I love you for your willingness to wear your heart on your sleeve. You don’t understand your emotions and you surely cannot control them, but you don’t let that stop you. You love that boyfriend, you know you do. You tell me about him every day, excitedly, like you are telling your mother and not your teacher. You are unapologetically you, and I admire the strength it takes to do that at your age.
I love how you listen to my dumb stories about trivia nights with friends (“Can you all believe there was a question about Diary of a Wimpy Kid??”) and how you tell me little stories about your dog, your brother, your favorite book or TV show between classes. You could be sprinting to the cafeteria for lunch, but you are here talking with me.
I love how you are already discussing the dress you will wear to homecoming, eight months from now. I tell you that you don’t need to worry about that yet, but you tell me that eight months really isn’t that far away. Then, you fret about moving up to the high school at all.
I tell you that you will be just fine at the high school and remind you that you are supposed to be finding the central idea of the article we are reading, not talking about homecoming. You get back to work, whispering more quietly now with your friend about what color best suits your skin tone and whether or not your mom will let you get highlights or dye your hair red.
I love how you invite me to watch you play basketball, football, soccer, run track, and play in band or sing in choir. You are so passionate about what you do outside of the classroom, and it’s so sweet that you want me to be there to cheer you on. I also love how you don’t take it personally, however, when I don’t make it to a single one. You just ask me again the next home game.
Maybe I’ll make it soon.
I love how you include me in your OOTD (Outfit of the Day) ritual and continue to ask me even though I usually say, “I don’t know, I’ve had these pants for at least six years. I probably got them at Target?”
I love how even when the work is hard, you try. You put pencil to paper. You pick out a new book at a harder reading level because I recommended it to you. You ask a question about the lesson. You allow yourself to be unsure and try anyway.
Sure, some days you have to put your head down (don’t we all?). Maybe you won’t respond when I come over to your desk and ask if you are okay. Maybe you even skipped my class altogether, spent the period at the nurse or in the guidance office because you needed a break. But the next day, you get back up. You try again, even if it’s hard. Even if there are forces actively working against you each and every day.
There are so many things that are begging for your attention: drama, social media, text messages (“It’s my mom, I swear!”), and all of the negative influences that seem to target your age group. Sometimes you give into them.
Sometimes you’re caught with a vape in the bathroom even though you are only fourteen. Sometimes you cause a fight over a boyfriend or girlfriend who will realistically only be in your life for the next two weeks at most, and now you will be suspended for the majority of that.
But most of the time, most of the time you are the best you that you can possibly be.
My dear students, past and present, and those of you I will teach in the future, I love you. Yes, you are in the “difficult age” group right now, but you are not difficult to me. You are smart. You are brave. You are sometimes an absolute pain in my behind, but you are you. So you are great.
There is no place I would rather be in this moment than learning and growing with you.
Much love,
Mrs. G
P.S. Yes, I know we are all counting down the days until summer break. That does not mean that I love you any less!
This story was written as part of the Valentine’s Love Story Writing Contest for The Narrative Arc. Here’s a story I liked from Suzanne B. A line that will stick with me from her piece: “The love is all in the mess of living.”