In Praise of the High School English Teacher
Introducing a New Column by Nick Ripatrazone
In this new monthly column for Lit Hub, I’ll be sharing the experiences of high school English teachers across the country—the joys, the struggles, and what keeps us coming back to the classroom. I’ll try to get to the heart of what Andre Dubus would write on his chalkboard at the first meeting of his classes: “Art is always affirmative, because it shows us that we can endure being mortal.” This column is an affirmation that teaching is eccentric, wild, and sometimes beautiful.
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It was the last day of school. My students created experimental short films that adhered to absurd rules in order to win an annual prize: a toaster oven adorned with a photograph of Barbra Streisand. The films were their final projects; a fitting end to the strangeness that is senior year. When you spend months close-reading the poetry of Sylvia Plath and Louise Glück, analyzing the novels of Toni Morrison and Thomas Pynchon, and examining the philosophy of Søren Kierkegaard, you cultivate a common language; you create your own quirky story. With hours to go before the summer, students packed into my classroom—at desks, on the floor, along the windowsills, on tables—to watch themselves and their friends, and to laugh.
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