I am the master of their fate! Starting the year with "Invictus"

I kind of like the beginning of the school year because I kind of like beginnings in general. But the loss of summer is for real, and getting back into the full day plus 50-minute commute routine is tough. ( It's tough for all of us, I think, even if you can walk to the school.) I don't want to share a bunch of details about how meetings with poster paper and gallery walks and discussions about our WHY are also, once again, for real. We all know it. The TicTocs prove the strategies of professional development gurus are similar across the board.

However, I am on a district leadership committee and this summer we had to read FINDING YOUR WHY by Simon Sinek.  I probably would have enjoyed it more if its focus had been at all academic, if school had been mentioned, say, once. Of course, there's nothing wrong with trying to figure out the true reason we teach. But, at bottom, I'm guessing they're hoping we all basically have the same WHY. ("It's about the kids.")  The smaller whys are actually  more personally interesting. Why buy the same shirt from Amazon, just in another color? Why didn't I make a seating chart yet for my classes? 

A girl asked me a why question yesterday.  Each year out of the blocks I make my freshmen memorize either all of Henley's "Invictus" or at least the last stanza. I start with it on the first day. So, true to form, Monday on the back of their instructions for writing a letter to themselves on the first day of high school, I printed the entire poem. Instead of making it all the way through the syllabus or doing ANY kind of stressful (for me) bonding/community building activities, I spent twenty minutes on Henley's poem and forcing them to memorize the last stanza. They get points for it on Friday. I guess I am the master of their fate.

I get a kick out of hearing twenty-eight brand new freshmen losing themselves in a task--even if it's just committing something to memory or old-school recitation. It kind of works every year. I know that they will get 6 other periods of going over the syllabus and the rules and then maybe have some time for a community-building activity. Again, those are so good!!! Do them!!  

For the last few years at our faculty meetings we always had activities called "forced family fun."  I'd probably seem like an extrovert if you saw me teach, but don't we all? I dreaded going to meetings because I  was constantly anxious that we were going to have to play some stupid game and I'd be paired up with the guy from the industrial tech department (he literally rolled his eyes once when partnered with me) or another equally uncomfortable math teacher. I like everyone at my school, but I don't know them all well, and I'm OK with that.  I figure not everyone wants to know me...that well. Anyway, since I have had such awkward experiences with forced family fun the last four years, I decided that even though I know there is probably research that says getting a writing class to bond is critical to creating that safe environment where they can share their personal feelings, I'm still not going to do it.  If you do---that's great!  I can't disparage anyone for pushing through an activity that produces the beginning of relationships and is probably fun for the kids. 

Not for me. Not the first day at least. 

So we memorize the last stanza of "Invictus" instead. We finished class a little early seventh period (I wish this had not been the case.)  All the brand spanking new high school freshmen were both tired and restless, and for the most part, could recite Henley's last four lines.  While most of the class was milling around watching the construction out the window or pushing each other and laughing, three girls came up to my desk and started shooting the breeze.  Because I am awkward, I kept it pretty basic:  "So, how was your first day? Did you have a system for phone collection? Did you get "Invictus" memorized?"  They thought so.  Then one blonde freshmen said, "Why are we doing that?"  I said, :"What? Memorizing "Invictus?"  (That was it.) So I bumbled around and finally landed on "Enrichment!" with a flourish. They shook their heads like, "Ok, then."  Was that a good enough WHY?  It got me through the moment.  Technically, this activity, instead of bonding while saying two truths and a lie, gives them something to go home and show off that they learned, if there is someone who asks. 

I do not assume my 80 freshmen went home to charming sit-down dinners where they answered parents' eager questions about their first day of school. But maybe the question came up---"did you learn anything?" I can't very successfully give them an activity where we keep a beach ball up in the air or hold hands to see that energy connects all of us. But I can give them 4 cool lines of poetry,  of which I hope they remember the last two lines forever: "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." 

So, if you didn't have a wacky English teacher who made you memorize "Invictus" by Henley, there it is below. It means "unconquerable"--one freshman said, "invincible" which I gave him props for and he received a fist bump from a friend.  Another freshman said they write the curriculum for Harvard (I had Harvard on the board connected to AP Lang Common Apps). That kid made me laugh out loud. Here's to the beginning of the year, here's to however you start it, here's to freshmen, and also to being the  master of your own fate any time you need to be.

INVICTUS by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods my be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade.

And yet, the menace of the year

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate.

I am the captain of my soul.