Friday Night Lights Meet the Dead Poets

I can only begin at the beginning. I thought my recent name change would be a personal struggle as I try and slip into this new identity. I am humbled, once again, as I find myself on this journey with not only my nuclear family, but also my students who seem to have adopted themselves into my soul. My words are only adequate to describe this phenomenon, so let me share the words of some students. Faithful student of yearbook, cresting on her senior year . With tears in her eyes running into my room: Thank goodness it is really you! she grabbed my hand and wiped her eyes: I saw this name, Kinsey (the office misspelled it anyway) and thought you had abandoned us! I was prepared never to forgive you!
Star QB and track star with unidentified learning disabilities and a very macho facade: Hey Ms. Dakin! Hope to see you at the game on Friday! Me: Actually, I will see you this afternoon, for English. Macho QB: Jumps in the air, looks at his schedule, looks at me, back at his schedule: For REAL!? You my English teacher!? Jumps again: Oh sweet! I thought this was a new teacher! You change your name? SWEET! Oh man, I will see you after lunch! Left hook with fist: You gonna make me read so much this year? It's cool!
Although I can tend to be a bit dramatic, I promise you I have not embellished on these interactions. As I write this I need to remember to say this is not a boost for my morale; rather a realization on my part that I am making a difference in the lives of these teenagers. This may have been one of the most difficult transitions for me to make, as I left the warm embraces and security of fabulous friends and family. Again I find myself humbled by the constant reminder that wherever I go, there I am. I was fortunate to have 90% of my students from English 2 back in my class of English 3. My body trembled as I welcomed them into my room, my world of American Literature, my mouth moving with rote tics escorting them to their new seating assignments. The uncertainty of these changes blasted to shards as my primal introduction was interrupted with applause at the matrimonial explanation for my name change. Overcrowding and moldy carpet take a righteous back seat to the wide eyes and nervous expectations. As I outline the course and procedures we all take a deep breath and relax--just a little--enough to connect to examine the difference between realistic people and the idealists. The definition of idealism raises the eyebrows of all of us, silently and knowingly challenging each other to this ultimate task.