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Dear Terrence,

Listening to you talk about what your mother does when she gets drunk, hearing your stories about how your grandmother can curse with the apparent fluency of a cliche sailor, I begin to understand how it is you have so few social skills. You've had no one to teach you these skills, through words or example.

Yet I'm still troubled. You've been in school now for nine years (counting kindergarten and this yet-to-be-completed year). Surely you've seen other students model these social skills you're missing. So what's missing in the equation? Recognition. You see these successful students as simply have a different nature than you, and to an extent, they do. They've learned and internalized behaviors that make them seem like they have a different nature, but in fact, you could be just like that. You just don't recognize it. And unfortunately, no matter how many times I and other teachers tell you this, you won't believe us.

Ever frustrated,
Your Teacher

Dear Teresa,

I overheard your comment to another student today about "going on down the hall before that teacher says something" because "she's always in other people's business."I'm assuming you're referring to the fact that the teacher in question will tell you to move on down the hall, probably interrupting any conversation in which you might be engaged and disregarding the potential impact of such an interruption. In case it had escaped you, said teacher is on hall duty when she tells you that. You, as a student, are in her charge; you are her responsibility. She is not getting in your business; she fulfilling her contractual duties.

What would getting into your business look like? Showing up at a social gathering you're attending and bad-mouthing you to others might be a good example. Making desparaging comments about your personal life and the decisions you've made might be another example. Gossiping about you would be a third example. Telling you to move on down the hall is so far from "getting into your business," though, is most decidedly not an example.

If you're going to gripe about teachers, at least make an attempt not to look foolish by mislabeling your gripe.

Regards,
A Teacher Up the Hall

Dear Terrence and Teresa,

Have you ever experienced true beauty? Your lives sometimes seem so lacking in it — the fruits you show in class make me wonder if you’ve ever been struck dumb by something truly, deeply, and unquestionably beautiful.

Listen to this if you haven’t experienced that kind of beauty.

Sincerely,
Your Teacher

Dear Terrence,

There’s really only one thing that’s required to pass my class: effort. There’s really only one thing required to be successful in life: effort. There’s really only one thing necessary for happiness: effort. There’s really only one recipe for healthy relationships: effort. There’s really only one path to riches of any sort, be they fiscal, emotional, intrapersonal: effort.

Yet you don’t tend to put forth any at all. I have to fight with you to keep your head up. I have to fight with you to keep a pencil in your hand. I have to fight with you some days even to look at the paper you’re working on.

“You won’t be able to do this in high school and pass,” I explain one day. “Certainly not college. And you won’t last a second on any job with this level of effort.”

“I know,” you respond. You say you’ll put forth effort in high school.

But you’ve created for yourself a habit that will be difficult to break. You certainly won’t be able to do it all at once, “cold turkey.” You’ll need to set milestones and achieve them, moving the goal line a little further back each time. And you have to begin now: high school will be too late. You’ll get so far behind so quickly, and you’ll reach an age at which you can make the decision for yourself about continuing your education, that I’m afraid you’ll just drop out.

And then what?

Concerned,
Your Teacher in Room 302

Dear Teresa,

I cannot imagine what it’s like to feel the kind of uncontrolled rage you felt today. To be so out of control, so boiling with rage, that you don’t pay attention to who is around and whom you are swinging at that you strike not one but two teachers — that would terrify me. I would be afraid about what I might do to those around me, to those whom I love, to those with whom I work. And yet afterward, you were so calm, so matter-of-fact about it.

“That girl said such and such,” you explained as I escorted you down the hall to the office, “and so I,” and your arms began swinging wildly in imitation of how you initiated the fight.

It scares me to think of what your life might be like if this is your reaction to something as petty as a literal “he said that you said” situation. Gossip brings out violence in you? What a miserable life you’ll have, then, if you can’t foster at least some slight self-control.

Worried,
Your Teacher