In addition to paper and pencils, every student also needs a clean slate

There is a saying our parents often lovingly manipulated us with: Your reputation will proceed you. Their intentions were noble, of course – to direct us away from poor choices, guide us towards positive influences, encourage us to think about the consequences of our actions. Especially in school, reputations can be haunting, even powerful. They can mar a students’ potential or handicap a child’s success.

Throughout our lives, we are given different opportunities to formulate our identities. We make our own choices and establish our reputations. These, then, become what sticks and proceeds us. But it wasn’t until I actually became a teacher that I learned the destructiveness of a reputation running ahead of a child.

It’s the all-too-familiar scene: pre-planning in early August. Sitting in a three hour faculty meeting, teachers begin to slyly shift their attention from the principal’s spiel to their class rosters for the year. The first thing they do is skim for recognizable names. What that means is simply this: if a seventh grade teacher, for instance, knows the name of a sixth grade student, it is for one of two reasons. One, the student’s name has been repeated on the morning announcements for such things as honor roll, science fair, spelling bees or student of the month. Two, the student has been the subject of a teacher’s meltdown in the faculty lounge. One is good. One is not.

Yes, that’s the first thing a teacher does when she gets her roster – looks for names she recognizes. Then, the conversations begin.

“Who you got? Oh, you have her. She’s a delight.”

“Let me see your roster. Wow, you have a good group this year. You deserve that after what you had to deal with last year.”

“Oh, my. You have him? Good luck with that one! Go ahead and get some referral slips ready.”

I reckon all teachers do a little of this at the beginning of the year, but I remember a veteran teacher telling me when I was young in the profession to stay away from such discussions. She advised me to allow each student the opportunity to create a new reputation within the structure and environment I had created in my own classroom. Each child reacts differently to different teachers, so allow my students the chance to outrun any negative reputations that have previously swayed their teachers’ predispositions.

I listened. And I learned.

Throughout my career I saw her advice work towards my advantage repeatedly. I remember one young man in particular, Quin. According to his reputation, if you looked up “holy terror” in the teacher’s dictionary, Quin’s face would be there. He didn’t have just a rap sheet listing his delinquencies in school; he had rap sheets. And yes, during pre-planning the first thing I did was look over my roster. Then I heard the voice of prejudgment.

“Holy cow, Green! You have Quin? He’s scary and mean,” a co-worker said. “He was arrested during the summer for assault. Even has an ankle monitor now. You better be careful. He’s a nasty one.”

We’re all human, of course – even teachers – so her warning made my stomach turn. Is it too late to quit? I thought.

Then I remembered the Yoda-like advice. Give every child a clean slate on which to write his own story – even Quin.

Turns out, Quin wasn’t so bad. He and I had a nice little relationship. He liked the Dallas Cowboys; I liked the New York Giants, and that’s all we needed to build upon. From there I learned he was a young father, struggling to provide for his child. His dad was in prison; mom was an addict; older brother pressured him to sell drugs; younger sister was killed in a drive-by.

Turns out, Quin wasn’t so bad, and he and I had a nice little relationship.

In school, sometimes kids succeed or fail based solely upon the expectations teachers have for them. Expect them to act as foolish as their reputations, they will. Expect them to forge new identities, they will.

Why not? Why not offer people a clean slate? What do we have to lose? For me, it could have been a nice little relationship with a kid named Quin.

Sheryl Green is a secondary educator in Columbus. Email her at sherylgreen14@yahoo.com.