Hello there, Student!
Our time together is coming to a close, which is both regrettable and yet as it should be. Growth is change, so it’s about time you took your leave of me and our classroom and moved on to yet more challenging endeavors.
About a year ago, you faced a decision. Would you elect to enroll in this Advanced Placement Language and Composition class and thus challenge yourself, or would you remain in the relatively safer course of American Literature? You all chose the challenge. I’m sure you had your own reasons, and I’m sure that in some cases, those reasons were not good ones. “My mom made me do it” or “it was an accident” or “my boyfriend was in the class and I can’t bear to be away from him even for a single class period” are examples of poor reasons to take the course.
That includes, “it looks good on a college transcript.” That’s not a good reason, either. It always baffles me that for a generation who proclaims loudly that you don’t care what others think of you, you certainly do act in a way that shows you deeply care what others think of you. I reference the sixteen hundred social media platforms you frequent. But I digress.
No, taking the AP course because you want to boost your transcript is not a good reason to take the course. If you had said, “I want to make sure I can go to a college which will in turn challenge me, and this is the avenue to that challenge,” then fine, I will admit that. But to me, the best reason to take the AP course is rather like the best reason for climbing a mountain, as given by George Mallory.
“Because it’s there.”
What I think Mallory was saying was we embrace challenges not because of what we will get if we win, or because of the result we will achieve. We embrace challenge merely because the challenge exists.
When you were a little boy or girl, did you say to yourself, “I wonder if I can walk home from school just by hopping on one leg?” or “Let’s see if I can jump off the roof holding a beach umbrella and float down” or “How many hot dogs can I fit in my mouth?” or issue similar challenges? Yes, you did. You went out of your way to challenge yourself. Even when none existed, you found ways to challenge yourself. Sure, they might have been foolish and trivial, but doesn’t that encapsulate what childhood should be?
Now you’re approaching adulthood, and the challenges are becoming decidedly less trivial. You might be forgiven for refusing some of them--along with the wisdom of age came a necessary but regrettable caution, which I daresay you often deploy when you don’t need to--but at least one you decided to embrace.
As for me, I can’t think of a better way to spend my days than with all of you. I have and will continue to enjoy this job--though I’d enjoy it a little bit more if you could tear yourselves away from your phones for one damn second. When people ask me what I wanted to be as a young man, I say, “what I am now.” We started the semester with me walking ahead of you, clearing a pathway for you to learn. As the semester went on, you all began to walk alongside me, and we learned together. Now it’s time for me to turn back and gather the next group while you move on ahead, forging your own path.
I am proud of you. You accepted the challenge of the course and of the exam and looked it in the eye. You gathered up your pitons and started the ascent.
You took AP Language because it was a challenge. Some part of you still relishes that. I urge you to nurture that part of you. See if you can jump over the puddle instead of walking around it. Ask the boy you’ve always admired if you can call him sometime. Take challenging courses in school.
Cyrano de Bergerac said, “I am going to be a storm--a flame--I need to fight whole armies alone; I have ten hearts; I have a hundred arms; I feel too strong to war with mortals--BRING ME GIANTS!”
You’re goddam right. Bring ‘em on!
Our time together is coming to a close, which is both regrettable and yet as it should be. Growth is change, so it’s about time you took your leave of me and our classroom and moved on to yet more challenging endeavors.
About a year ago, you faced a decision. Would you elect to enroll in this Advanced Placement Language and Composition class and thus challenge yourself, or would you remain in the relatively safer course of American Literature? You all chose the challenge. I’m sure you had your own reasons, and I’m sure that in some cases, those reasons were not good ones. “My mom made me do it” or “it was an accident” or “my boyfriend was in the class and I can’t bear to be away from him even for a single class period” are examples of poor reasons to take the course.
That includes, “it looks good on a college transcript.” That’s not a good reason, either. It always baffles me that for a generation who proclaims loudly that you don’t care what others think of you, you certainly do act in a way that shows you deeply care what others think of you. I reference the sixteen hundred social media platforms you frequent. But I digress.
No, taking the AP course because you want to boost your transcript is not a good reason to take the course. If you had said, “I want to make sure I can go to a college which will in turn challenge me, and this is the avenue to that challenge,” then fine, I will admit that. But to me, the best reason to take the AP course is rather like the best reason for climbing a mountain, as given by George Mallory.
“Because it’s there.”
What I think Mallory was saying was we embrace challenges not because of what we will get if we win, or because of the result we will achieve. We embrace challenge merely because the challenge exists.
When you were a little boy or girl, did you say to yourself, “I wonder if I can walk home from school just by hopping on one leg?” or “Let’s see if I can jump off the roof holding a beach umbrella and float down” or “How many hot dogs can I fit in my mouth?” or issue similar challenges? Yes, you did. You went out of your way to challenge yourself. Even when none existed, you found ways to challenge yourself. Sure, they might have been foolish and trivial, but doesn’t that encapsulate what childhood should be?
Now you’re approaching adulthood, and the challenges are becoming decidedly less trivial. You might be forgiven for refusing some of them--along with the wisdom of age came a necessary but regrettable caution, which I daresay you often deploy when you don’t need to--but at least one you decided to embrace.
As for me, I can’t think of a better way to spend my days than with all of you. I have and will continue to enjoy this job--though I’d enjoy it a little bit more if you could tear yourselves away from your phones for one damn second. When people ask me what I wanted to be as a young man, I say, “what I am now.” We started the semester with me walking ahead of you, clearing a pathway for you to learn. As the semester went on, you all began to walk alongside me, and we learned together. Now it’s time for me to turn back and gather the next group while you move on ahead, forging your own path.
I am proud of you. You accepted the challenge of the course and of the exam and looked it in the eye. You gathered up your pitons and started the ascent.
You took AP Language because it was a challenge. Some part of you still relishes that. I urge you to nurture that part of you. See if you can jump over the puddle instead of walking around it. Ask the boy you’ve always admired if you can call him sometime. Take challenging courses in school.
Cyrano de Bergerac said, “I am going to be a storm--a flame--I need to fight whole armies alone; I have ten hearts; I have a hundred arms; I feel too strong to war with mortals--BRING ME GIANTS!”
You’re goddam right. Bring ‘em on!
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