"At this point I've taught them everything that I can. Two more days of review isn't changing anyone's test score. Right now I'm just selling the dream." -a coworker of mine right before standardized testing last year
As we just marked the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I have a Dream" speech, I've been thinking a lot about dreams. The last time I read that speech was in college, before I had any idea what it really meant. And to be honest, before I realized the King's dream was not yet a reality. But that's a different post for a different day.
When you are in middle school, as I perpetually am, you think a lot about the future. I'm still not yet 30, but I still have a lot in life to look back to. I think about great losses and great triumphs that I've already accomplished. But for the 12 year old, everything that matters, at least in their minds, is still ahead of them.
So how do you teach a child to dream. I may have been a more reflective child than most, but most of my middle school years were spent thinking about who I would one day be and how I would get there. Maybe it was all the times my dad sat me down and told me not to ever let anybody tell me I couldn't do something great with my life. Maybe it was all my teachers saying how bright I was and how excited they were to see where I ended up. I don't know. But I need to figure it out, because I want my kids to dream. I want them to honestly believe that "smart" is not out of their reach.
Maybe it's the little things. Subtle hints about keeping grades up because you'll need to get into a good high school to go to a good college. Maybe it's sweeping lectures about how "you're better than you're showing me right now." Maybe it's convincing parents that even though the high school is across town doesn't mean it's not a good choice for the kid. Maybe it's the big things. Maybe it's raising a stink that all the "good" high schools are across town. Maybe it's in asking harder taboo questions about race and culture and urban poverty and violence. Maybe it's all above my pay grade.
But I've seen the good that selling a dream to a kid can do. I've seen kids steeped in violence and restlessness worry more about their math grade than their street cred because they had been sold the dream of a specialty arts school. I've seen what a dream can do for a kid, but I'm not a natural sells man. I've never been a peddler of any sort no less the stuff dreams are made of. I've never mastered that art. But it's a big part of my job.
So I pray. I pray for my kids. I pray for their parents. I pray for my coworkers and the authorities here. I know not if I'm changing anything, but I know that God is good. I know he's placed me here. I know that he is sovereign. My job is to work and wait.
