Dear Editor:

“We lose our identity. People say that’s just junior year. No, it’s not, this is the year that we are supposed to find ourselves.” -Anonymous.
Teachers look at us as if we are grades, not students. They also treat us as if school is the only important thing in our lives. They do not notice that we have more important things to deal with than homework. We deal with mental illness, family, others’ opinions, peer pressure, and friends; we may just be teen-agers to the staff, but we deal with a lot that teachers do not seem to understand. Yes, you say you understand and that you are there for us, but how many teachers really go through with it? I have been here for three years. I have had about seven teachers per semester, which is about 37 teachers thus far into my high school career (not including teachers I have had twice). One out of those 37 did not even know my name, one asked if I was okay the day I was in tears, and one had the nerve to tell me to “just get over it.” But what we go through, and when we go through it, is not something we can just move past. Healing takes time; you give us no time. We are teen-agers in a new world, not the world you grew up in–we all know that. Nostalgia drips from your lips as you scold us about when you were a kid, but you are not a kid anymore. We are trying to live our lives while you dictate every move we make. We are people too; you cannot control us. We are not mere grades on a paper. But that does not mean you can pretend we are nothing more than letters and percentages. We have feelings too. I am a girl, but you have pinned me as a letter, as if I am anything but human. I am screaming in the back of your classroom, “notice me,” but you do not. You instead wonder why I disapprove of your teaching techniques, why I disapprove of you ever becoming a teacher. Why do I disapprove? I disapprove because you became a teacher and lost sight of the kid inside. The kid who has no idea where to go from here but still continues the journey because they know it will all be okay. You lost sight of the imagination that takes us by the hand and drags us to the far away land when we are still in your classroom. You see us day dreaming; you do not see our dream. We need an escape–that is why we make a world that is all our own. Something you cannot destroy with a look or your words, like you can so many other things. Our confidence, our pride, our hope, our goal in life. You do not realize how much impact you truly have on us, and we will never truly tell you, because that requires us to talk to someone who does not show interest. Even as an adult, you would not talk to someone if you thought they did not really care. It is not specifically your job to care, but it is relieving when we can hear it in your voice. I am a girl. I am not a grade. I would like it if you treated me that way.

Sincerely,

Arianna Edler, junior