Today, I looked out at my classes, as I always do. All of them were supposed to have read certain books that would add to the meaningful aspect of the lesson. Some had done the reading.
But I just pretended that everyone had read, even though many wouldn’t make eye contact with me. Even though most couldn’t fill in any of the blanks on my study sheet. Most just stayed relatively quiet and let me bleat on about literature that they will forget as soon as they fail the upcoming test.
They could apply the themes to their own lives, but had a hard time relating any of them to the context of the novels.
I powered through. I acted like it mattered. Perhaps I will convince myself that it mattered for the kids who did read. Perhaps not.