Steven Easton

Don't Worry Too Much

Monday, May 13

It's a Monday. We have three more weeks of school, and I am so ready to just be done. Next year will be stressful because I'll be teaching new content, but I think it's more up my alley. If someone would've told me three years ago that I would eventually teach high school in Iowa, I don't think I would've believed them. 

Today was kind of a weird day. I am letting my students watch a movie that is similar to the book they've been reading because I have made them work really hard, so I want to give them some sort of break. They are required to write a comparison essay after the movie though, and I am counting that as their final in which they cannot fail, even though I don't think any of them realize that. If they do the assignment, they will pass. 

During my open period, I had a girl come into my classroom with the pass I had given her, so her study hall teacher would allow her to leave the room. (Yes, I think this is stupid. If you want middle school students to stop acting like children, then maybe you should stop treating them like children. Let's be honest, high school students are way more like to run away because they have cars. Where's an eighth grader gonna go?)

This girl, Ella, came in because she wanted to ask me about her grade. "Mr. Easton..." She came up to my desk, and I was surfing the web--does anyone say that anymore?--so I shut the laptop because that would show her that she had my undivided attention. 

"What's up?"

"I want to talk about my grade." 

"What about your grade?" She has to learn how to communicate somehow in life. 

"Can I do anything to up my grade?"

"Aren't you at, like, an A?"

"No," she said. "It's an A-."

"So, you want an A?"

"Yes."

Giving her a small smile, I sighed. "Why do you think you deserve an A?"

"Because I..." She had think about this for a moment, which almost made me not want to give her an A, but I also knew that I had put her on the spot. "I did the work, and I want a 4.0."

"You do realize your GPA doesn't matter until next year, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm grounded until I get this grade back up"

Raising my eyebrows, I opened up the lid of the computer again to log into the grade book. "To an A?" 

"Yeah, my mom is stupid."

"Why does she require that?" I pulled up her name to find her grade.

"Because she says I can." 

"If you manipulate all your teachers enough," I mumbled. "Look, you're at a 91.78. The final should bump your grade up enough because I'm making it worth a big enough portion of your grade, but in the meantime, you can tell your mom that you're doing a great job right now."

Tears welled up in her eyes, which wasn't going to help her case because when girls cry, I don't have anymore pity on them. Sorry. That doesn't mean I don't care; it just doesn't work. "I want to hang out with my friends again, and I want to be able to have my phone back."

"Are you grounded because of this class?"

"Yes." 

To fact check I checked her other grades. They were indeed all A's, which probably wasn't that hard to do given the fact that if you do the work in our school, you typically preform well.

"Okay, tell your mom that it will go up, and if she has any questions, she is welcome to email me or call me because you're doing great, and I don't think three fourths of a percent should define you."

Fighting the tears, she was hugging herself. "Okay." 

"Hey," I said quietly. "Don't stress over it."

Wiping the tears that ran down her cheeks, she turned away as if that would make it so I couldn't see. "My mom doesn't get it though." 

"What's her goal in having you have all A's?"

"She thinks that then I can get my college paid for if I get a 4.0 or higher." 

"Does she only push you in grades or does she also push you in other things?"

"Soccer and track, too, because she also wants me to maybe get a sports scholarship."

Knowing that it wasn't my place to go against her mother's wishes, but also knowing this kid needed some freedom, I asked, "What do you enjoy doing?"

A part of her lit up when she said, "Show choir and jazz band." 

"I want you to listen to me." Leaning back in my chair, I cupped the back of my head with my hands. "Do as well as you can in school, but don't worry too much about the actual GPA number. Scholarships are important, but you're fourteen, and you need to focus on what you enjoy doing. I'm not saying don't try, but take the pressure off of yourself, and enjoy the next four years because you deserve to have fun, too."

"Is high school hard?" she wiped her eyes, sitting on the edge of the desk that was closest to mine.

"It won't be hard for you. You're a smart girl. You got this." 

"Really?" 

"Yes, I wouldn't lie to you. I'm not all about telling people what they want to hear."

"Okay," she said sheepishly. 

Giving her my fist for a fist pump, she accepted the favor.

"You go, girl."