Category: high school seniors

Getting HS Seniors Across the Finish Line

Since 2009 I’ve been shepherding high school seniors out the front door in time to walk across the stage in a cap and gown at graduation. Sometimes they barely make it. The students who glide through 12th grade aren’t the ones whose stories linger. It’s the ones who barely make it, the immigrants who will make their families proud, who worked hard for a Maryland State Diploma. 

On Monday, Cee sat in my ELD Seminar class, uncharacteristically glum. 

“Miss!” (that’s how they address me) “I don’t think I can pass Modern World History. I don’t think I can graduate this year.” 

“Have you talked to the teacher? What assignments are missing? Who is your teacher? I will email them to find out.”

In a mixed class, where only a handful of seniors sit among sophomores and juniors, the teachers aren’t always aware of the urgency of grading an assignment that can make or break a senior’s chance to walk across the stage with the rest of their class. The teacher got back to me. Cee was passing the class with 64% D — enough to earn credit and be on track to graduate. Now all that remained was Credit Recovery for English 12A and English 12B, an online self-paced class. I emailed the teacher to ask about what he else needed to do. She unlocked the last Edmentum Unit Test so he could work on it during Seminar class. 

Eff skipped Seminar the last week of school. He works full time as a cook in a fancy local restaurant — he showed me pictures of his plating technique. Since he’d already passed every class, he was focused more on accruing extra hours at work to pay rent and utilities — a reality for many older immigrant students. Except he didn’t realize that he still needed 25 more Student Service Learning hours, a Maryland State graduation requirement. Another teacher and I scrambled to work with his counselor and administrator to get him the hours necessary.

Getting seniors across the finish line seems harder this year. Maybe because I’m at a new school with a different demographic than my previous school. It seems hard to believe they didn’t know about SSL hours, or how much work they needed to complete for a class, but when students are the first in their family to graduate from high school, you can’t assume they’re getting any help navigating the school system from Mom or Dad.


Other factors define the hardships faced by the class of 2025 — the English Multilingual Learners in my school, in my district, right now. And some of what I’ve seen is disturbing. 

In August 2024, the district changed how it evaluates international student transcripts. In a move that sounds equitable, but is deeply flawed, they began awarding credits to students from other countries who took English in their home country — without first determining a student’s level of language proficiency. In the past, international students were given a placement test to determine what classes to take. It sometimes meant that older students were put back a grade level so that they could acquire better English. Now those students are placed in mainstream content courses, like Math, Science, and Social Studies, without adequate language support. They struggle to keep up because their academic English skills are still developing.

As a result, this year, for the first time, we have newcomer students graduate with a high school diploma who can not read, write or speak English. And I’m worried that it’s only going to get worse. Dee is such a student. I got to know him second semester, when he’d already stopped coming to class. I called home, talked to his guardian, met to his counselor, emailed his administrator. He was completely discouraged because he could not understand what we were doing in class. So we made him a deal. If he finished the final Common Writing Task, we would give him a passing grade (60%) so he could earn credit and graduate.

English Multilingual Learners (we used to call them ESOL students, but that was deemed “deficit language” so we switched the acronym to EML) need explicit language instruction by a qualified teacher. They also benefit from smaller classes, where the teacher can guide them through an often-incomprehensible landscape of grades, credits, and SSL hours. They also need enough time to learn.

I wish we had more hours of instruction for these students. But for Cee, Eff, and Dee, a Maryland State Diploma is a meaningful achievement. For me, helping seniors cross the stage in their caps and gowns is one of the most rewarding jobs I have ever had.

Complex Trauma in High School English Class

While all around me the federal government is being dismembered, it seems apt to bring up the novel we’re reading.

In English 12 we’re halfway through Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. It’s hard not to draw parallels to what is happening in the U.S.A. today. I feel like Offred seeing the bodies from the “salvaging” hanging on the wall for the crimes they committed — men killed for gender treachery, doctors for performing abortions.

U.S. AID was butchered yesterday. The Department of Education last week. NIH before that. Canada is now an enemy. Undocumented immigrants are all criminalized. In Gilead, they know that nobody can be trusted. They know how dangerous scientists and intellectuals can be. “Eyes” are everywhere.

My EML students worry that family members will be deported while they’re at school, parents afraid to go to the supermarket or church. They bring these fears into the classroom, and either act out or remain unusually quiet. Some students just stop coming to school. Their anxiety seeps into our shared space. Whispered conversations, a heartfelt journal entry.

A teacher friend from another school told me that a student asked if she was legal. She is from South America and speaks with a slight accent. She replied, “I am now, but I wasn’t when I first arrived in this country.” The student responded, “Then I would have reported you to ICE.”

It could be worse. I could be a 53-year-old NOAA scientist with kids about to go to college — decades into public service, too young to retire, years of exceptional performance reviews — fired through a social media posting from DOGE.

I could be an undocumented LGBTQ+ immigrant about to graduate.

Seniors had to write an essay about the value and relevance of The Handmaid’s Tale for today’s teens. One student wrote that reading this text shows the consequences of not standing up against injustices in the world today. Another student wrote, “our government is meant to protect us, but if they ever turn against us, marginalized communities will be in the most danger.”

The fascist flexing taking place right now in the White House is meant to provoke fear and panic. Our president is inflicting continuous trauma on this country, with marginalized populations suffering the most. And they are sitting in my English 12 class.

Teachers have little training in how to deal with anxiety, emotional dysregulation, or persistent difficulties in sustaining relationships (symptoms of complex stress disorder), but we see them becoming normalized.

Ordinary, said Aunt Lydia, is what you are used to. This may not seem ordinary to you now, but after a time it will. It will become ordinary.

I have hope that my students will stand up against injustices, that they will fight for the future they want to live in. I will do everything in my power to give them the tools they need to think critically about our world. One of the best tools at my disposal is excellent speculative fiction, like The Handmaid’s Tale.

Because I live in Montgomery County, Maryland, I can (still) teach a novel that has been banned in Florida, Oregon, and Texas. This is exactly what we need to be reading right now. This is exactly what we need to be discussing. This is exactly how we can overcome the psychological stress of living through the next four years.

Change happens

I subscribe to Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditations, which I often don’t have time to read. But this morning’s missive on Transitions spoke to me.

The word change normally refers to new beginnings. But the mystery of transformation more often happens not when something new begins, but when something old falls apart. The pain and chaos of something old falling apart invite the soul to listen at a deeper level, and sometimes force the soul to go to a new place. Most of us would never go to new places in any other way…

Transformation always includes a disconcerting reorientation. It can either help people to find new meaning or it can cause people to close down and slowly turn bitter. The difference is determined precisely by the quality of our inner life, our practices, and our spirituality. Change happens, but transformation is always a process of letting go, and living in the confusing, shadowy, transitional space for a while. Eventually, we are spit up on a new and unexpected shore…

After two decades teaching in a public school, I feel the changes that students experience profoundly. April is huge month of transition. Just as flowers burst into bloom outdoors, seniors come alive again.

This Class of 2023 has already faced “confusing, shadowy, transitional space” that started at the end of their 9th grade year and extended into their entire 10th grade year. “Change happens when something old falls apart…” Well, their worlds fell apart. Now we have the greatest teen mental health crisis we’ve ever faced. But I’m not going there.

We had a job fair at school this week. It was a great real-life connection to what we were doing in class – researching career options, creating resumes and cover letters, and preparing for “job interviews.” I thought students would be enthusiastic about the job fair. Instead, a collective meh! greeted the announcement.

I know that many are finalizing their college choice by May 1st (tomorrow is Decision Day). Many are already working or have summer jobs lined up. Once we got downstairs to the fair, I was glad to see that students went from table to table and talked to the recruiters. Afterwards I realized they were just collecting free pens, candy, lanyards, and key chains. Meh!

With just one month left of school, I feel the tide rising and lifting all ships. Senior Assassin and Promposals are in the air. In English class, I hear excited chatter as girls show each other their prom dresses. “Ms. Sullivan, which color do you like?” D. showed me a muted pink suit he’s about to purchase. Kids in team jerseys announce that varsity sports are moving to season’s end. Chronically absent students are returning and asking what assignments they’re missing. 

The rhythm of a school year forces change, ready or not. For seniors in the home stretch, a feeling of anticipation and hope fills the air. That collective meh! will soon turn into rah! as they reach the end of their K-12 education.

I can’t wait to hear which dress color A. has selected for prom, what choice P. has made about college, and if Z. will change jobs.

The quiet drop outs

It’s not shocking that the December 30th deadline for confirming my National Board Certification candidacy has forced me to ask the right questions. If I’m co-teaching two sections of Honors English 12 and teaching solo two others, which class would be best to film for Component 3? Or should I use my 7th period ELD Seminar class that has only 10 students? Should I certify in English Language Arts (the subject I’m actually teaching) or English as a New Language (my career specialty)?

It turns out that I have to scrap the videos I’ve recorded, delete the written commentary, and wait until next semester when my new schedule includes 51% English Learners in a sheltered Honors English 12 class. Teachers have to pivot all the time. Good thing I checked before spending the rest of the school year completing unscorable components. One thing, however, has come out of this frustrating process that I cannot dismiss.

The data I’ve collected on my students may not be valid for National Board Certification, but it deserves some written commentary. So here it is.

Out of the 106 students in my four classes, 30 have missed 20 or more days of instruction or they have stopped coming to school altogether. Some have withdrawn from school officially, some have switched to “credit recovery” classes online, and one had a baby. Many English Learners are working full time and miss class because they’re exhausted. But where are the other students? Why aren’t they coming to school?

Over and over again, I try to contact the students on my roster. I call home, I send an email to the counselors, administrators follow up, kids get referred to the Wellness Center, I involve the Parent Community Coordinator or the Bilingual Counselor. Some will show up once a week or two. My school and school district have wonderful resources, fully employed. But why aren’t these students coming to class?

Teachers and school staff understand why. These students are suffering from enormous mental health challenges as a result of the pandemic. It’s not just a disengagement. This year’s seniors spent the spring semester of their freshman year and 90% of their 10th grade year online. These are crucial formative years, where adolescents naturally break away from their families and seek peer friendships as they develop independent identities.

Schools have made incredible adjustments to accommodate student needs. But we must keep asking the right questions. How can we better address the experiences of high school students whose natural growth process was stunted? What new programs or new staffing can we put in place to support the whole child? School is not just for academics. We’ve known that for a long time. Why has it taken a public health crisis to begin to address this?

During the pandemic, articles about the “great resignation” began to appear. Workers seeking better jobs jumped at new employment opportunities. Now we hear about “quiet quitting,” where workers are opting out of any extra tasks outside their primary job duties (in the teachers’ union, we call this Work to Rule). High school students are paralleling what companies and employers are seeing in the workforce.

Seniors are doing the absolute bare minimum to meet graduation requirements. It’s a huge problem in the classroom when 30% of the students missed the intro lesson and we can not make progress. I have to completely re-think discussion groups or project-based assignments that require peer collaboration. What social-emotional skills are they also missing?

It’s a quiet drop out crisis. The soft skills that today’s teens will need to be successful members of society are not developing normally. We can help them if every school, every district, and every state begins to ask the right questions, gather data, and reflect on possible solutions. It would help to have a deadline.