I'm not going to college. I'm going to hell.

Oh, yes. That is a direct quote from one of my honors students. Funny, but sad. He was having a tough day (he did his project wrong…the computer crashed…you know the story) and he had a little outburst. Don’t you worry, he was smirking as he was damning himself.

Some of these kids put way too much pressure on themselves. Yet, others seem totally unaffected by the fact that they are failing English. I notice the ones who exceed my expectations. I notice the ones who don’t get anywhere near what I expect from them. ADD boy and I are practically best friends. The girl who gets into the discussions (the ones I'm leading, not the student-initiated discussions) makes my eyes light up. The boy who has no idea what page we’re on (ever) draws my attention enough to get me to roll my eyes at him. The charismatic kid in the front row makes me smirk at his witty comments.

I manage to overlook the “average” kids. I can’t remember their names. Some days, they leave class and I wonder if I made any contact with them at all. Did I call on them? Did I smile when I handed back their papers? I’m not sure. They’re not very memorable. None of my teachers could ever remember my name. It never failed; my name was the last name they learned. I’m one of those teachers. It kills me. I vow to do something about it.