I’m sitting in my office with Sam, a senior, whose counselor brought him to see me. He missed more school than he attended last year and has started this school year in similar fashion. His counselor thought that a meeting with me might help emphasize the importance of better choices.
Sam is slumped in my office chair, hat brim shading his eyes. I try to make conversation by asking, “What did you do over the summer?”
“Nothing,” Sam says. This is frequently the answer I receive from students, so I press on. At the end of the last school year he planned to work with his uncle in construction. “Did you work?” He looks out the window with a gaze that goes beyond the school campus. “Yeah” he says, and looks down again. “How did you like construction?” Sam isn’t going to commit.
I gear up in full adult mode. “Sam, what do you want to do when you graduate?” I am curious what he’s thinking. He looks me in the eye for the first time since sitting down, “Nothing” he replies. The hopelessness in his expression strikes my heart.
I ask him, “If you could do any job in the world, what would you want to do?” I’m aware that Sam is expected to contribute to the family income. The messages he hears at home are not encouraging big dreams. I still look for a glimmer of hope about the future as a way to hook him back into school. Sadly, it’s not there.
Dreams are important. When I taught an introductory leadership class, the first assignment I gave was to create a dream board. Students came up with a wide range of dreams, from the silly (be an embarrassing moment at someone’s wedding) to the grand (own an eight-story house with a pool on each floor.) I loved this assignment as a way to get to know my students and eventually encourage their dreams. There were always a few students, however, who would stare at the blank page with a vacant look in their eyes. We can never stop encouraging kids to reach a little farther, to become their best selves.
For students like Sam, I know I have to work harder to get them to dream. Unfortunately for Sam, his mother decided he should move to another school district to be closer to his dad. I think, given more time, he would have completed the leadership assignment and would have been able to explore more possibilities. He would have been more engaged in school, more energized about the future.
Sheila, for example, had to take care of a younger sibling and missed many days of school. She was disconnected to the learning environment. During a conversation in my office about how to make up coursework and boost her attendance, she noticed a photo of me riding a horse at a riding show. In that moment, we discovered a common interest. Sheila could envision herself working with horses. I went further and got her a job at a local barn. The trainer there became a mentor. Sheila graduated on time and started teaching riding lessons.
I’m a firm believer in learning for learning’s sake and also in the importance of relevant, engaging curriculum. However when those fail, I remind students that they have a lifetime to work. I want them to find what interests them. School can be a means to an end in this way, but first we have to help students envision that end. Students need mentors and teachers who are willing to show them what’s possible. To encourage them to dream.
Ryan Fear is a high school dean of students in Oregon.
