When I was in high school, my best friend and I decided we wanted to live in Yonkers, New York. There was really no reason other than it sounded like a cool place. We would graduate high school and set out on an epic road trip across the country.

Yonkers would be where all our dreams would come true. We would be romantically poor yet incredibly trendy. Our apartment would be furnished with thrift store treasures that magically went together to create decor that the world would envy. We’d be the beginning of the next Rat Pack and live forever young.

I had never been to New York, or anywhere outside of Arizona, but there was something about the name “Yonkers”, and the fact that it was all the way at the opposite corner of the U.S., that gave it a romantic, anything can happen feel. If you’ve been a teenager, and you probably have… you will know what I am talking about.

Without crazy dreams and aspirations, youth is truly wasted. I think there is a part of growing up that requires us to set our goals way too high and shoot for the stars to get us to see beyond our own four walls of reality.

These days, the good old days of adulthood, my dreams and aspirations are less lofty. Get to bed before midnight. Have money in my account after all the bills are paid. Don’t gain back all the weight I lost last summer. Don’t hit anyone at work. Make it to my next birthday without losing my mind. Okay, that last one is pretty lofty now that I think about it.

I recently had a goal setting session with my 6th graders. We’ve had a pretty good year so far. It was a rocky start. I’ve had classes that have just jelled right away. This class has taken a while to pull together. I think most of the kids have best friends in other classes so they had to kind of give themselves permission to make new friends. I get it. We’re finally feeling that sense of family and responsibility for each other that really helps the class move forward.

It was the grades that really prompted the goal setting. I know I’m not the only 6th grade teacher that has parents coming to me in tears about their precious little straight A student who has never gotten a B. Why aren’t they still perfect? What’s gone wrong? It’s all I can do not to heave a great sigh when I hear this. First of all, the parents refuse to see that they care way more about those grades than their child does. When a kid is in 6th grade, they do what they can, but what they really care about is the stuff they can’t do. Suddenly, they aren’t the little kids they’ve always been. People on campus are suddenly looking up to them. They are no longer the followers, blaming bad behaviour on their youth or the examples of the upper grades. Their pants are too short. Their skirts are too tight. They have to fix their own hair, do their own homework, and be responsible for themselves everywhere they go. People actually expect things from them. What the heck?

And then, and this is the big one, they notice their own bodies. Sweat? Hair? Smell? Suddenly, they are very aware that things are not the same. Some take it in stride. Others feel the surges of emotions ebbing like waves on a foreign shore and try to hold on to anything remotely familiar. Sometimes a friend is there or a parent. Sometimes the only thing that makes them feel normal or able to handle the ride is going to a place where they feel they know the waters. Unfortunately, this place ends up looking like a class clown or the goofball in class. Laughter can be a familiar place. Even if they aren’t the ones laughing, they know laughter brings a good feeling so they go there.

I’ve had some class clowns in my day. Heck, I like to consider myself a class clown in that one creative writing class in High School. I was so painfully shy it hurts to look back. What I was afraid of was being laughed at. A fate worse than death to my 14 year old mind. I was so critical of myself, laughter would be like a huge magnifying glass showing every fault I had to the entire world, or universe!

But for some reason, in that one creative writing class, with my good friends around me, I decided to be a goofball. I was sarcastic, laid-back, and a bit sloppy. Maybe it was the teacher that made me feel comfortable in my own skin because she praised my writing. Maybe it was just the time of day. I don’t know what it was but if it was the teacher, that’s kind of teacher that I want to be. I want my students to feel like they can be themselves, that they can take risks with their writing because they are in a safe place. It can be hard, putting your words down and knowing someone else is going to read them. It can be hard, cracking open your soul and letting out the words you’ve kept hidden for so very very long. It could be hard but that hard is what makes it so very very rewarding when you actually do it.

My goal is to help these kids see that what they have to say is important. What they have to say is real And valid. What they have to say is something that they should say. Because I want to hear it.

Because I said so.