By Mr. Alfred Lu
I was fighting with Ms. McGee.
We were debating the pratfalls of AI writing. She considered it soulless while I countered the quality of writing was subjective. We didn’t get anywhere, but the back and forth was enjoyable, and not something I get to experience day to day. Ms. McGee is always classy in demeanour and expression, and I came away from the encounter challenged and encouraged all the same. But it occurred to me, this discussion couldn’t have happened even a few scant years ago. What changes and what doesn’t change over time?
Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation details the extraordinary harm of phone-based childhood over play-based childhood of years yore. Children born in the 2010s have challenges no other generation has faced before. Among other recommendations, Haidt argues for banning phones in schools and we’ve done that. But what doesn’t change is the joyful resourcefulness of kids. Coming into my room one lunch, I saw how Cole, Jayden and Brady had drawn a huge dart board circle on the white board. They were throwing magnets at it. A crowd had gathered with accompanying laughter and togetherness. Another lunch, another time, Dhavin, Imran, James, and Pranav are gathered around my desk and playing a game where they challenge each other to name a certain number of items in a category. It’s a game I want to steal for my own game time. I know the problem of students using phones in our school exists. But I also know our students are resilient and strong. They have and can overcome. They will find positive alternatives. They will show others what screen-free looks like and feels like.
High schools are decidedly different places, because every year, one-fifth of the population leaves and a new fifth replaces them. Names and faces are constantly changing. Yet, what doesn’t change are the stories we tell. And in these stories, they reveal the people who make up our community. Kicking back one morning, Liam told me about his work at Vancouver Canadian games, meeting players and staff, and the year end celebration. And you get a sense of who he was with that story. Or when Ann told the story about learning German music after meeting some German people over the summer. There was a growing up and seeing things as they truly are moments in her story. Julian was talking about the diaspora of theatre kids, all types, all kinds, bound together by this theatre thing. There was insightful observation and perception in his discourse, and in that story was a lesson, a reassurance, and an inspiration. These swirling stories change as the people telling them change, but they are always there, spilling out at unexpected times, gluing us together.
Fads and trends come and go. Thanks to Raeann, I now have a Labubu behind me, and I can never say the numbers 6 and 7 with any kind of seriousness. These in the moment jokes and curiosities bond us together. As wonderful as the learning in the classrooms are, the bonds we hold on to long after are even more lasting. T.J. brings together a bunch of students and teachers to enter a fantasy football league. We’re in my room drafting players and there’s oohs and aahs and catcalling as the draft picks are announced. Ms. Sjerven selects Derrick Henry early, and a roar goes up. Throughout the year, there will be needling and trade offers and speculation. Whether it be this or outdoor education or a club or a team, these kinds of bonds won’t be easily shaken loose.
Over time, we forget a lot of things. If we didn’t, then that would mean nothing ever changes. It’s OK to forget. But the richness of reminiscing lodges stubbornly. The boys soccer team may not remember every score, but they won’t easily forget how Ivan won them a game based on a coin flip. As Maya Angelou once said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Walking back from the Terry Fox Run, we saw Ms. McGee and Mr. McGee at the median on 4th helping direct people safely across. Ms. Cheng challenged me to hug them both, and I promptly did much to their bewildered bemusement. I’m not sure how many schools exist where I can engage in intense academic discourse with a fellow teacher and then, shortly after, hug her and her son in the middle of the street. But I do know this is one of them. And I do know that the spirit of thinking hard and having a lot of fun are intertwined so beautifully here.
There’s a little magic reverberating through these walls. And every day I come in, and I marvel at what the day will wash over me. Even though things are constantly changing, I’m glad this will never change.