It’s Week 10 in my AP English class, and reality has finally set in. The honeymoon is over.

My students are tired. They’ve been working hard, most notably on their writing, which has grown markedly. But with college applications, the stress of senior year, and other APs competing for my students’ attention, I’m finding that it’s hard to keep the flow going in my class.

It all started last week when we began Beloved.

My friends and colleagues warned me: It’s a tough book to teach. But what could go wrong? After all, my students had blazed through the first three titles, happy as clams (grammar alert: misplaced modifier!).

No more. Despite my efforts, my students gave up on the book on the first day. Toni Morrison’s non-linear style confused them, and they didn’t know how to deal.

Since then, I’ve been trying to get my students motivated again, but my efforts have failed. It’s tough to find a re-entry point; for my students, it’s overwhelming to catch up.

I’m frustrated, and I’m nervous, but I’ve learned a lot. Here are some tidbits:

1. Reading is always the first thing to drop off. Reading takes a long time. It’s hard work and takes daily dedication. It’s done by yourself, privately and silently. Reading for school is usually not fun. While it makes you feel proud when you read, there’s no huge reward for doing it and no huge penalty for skipping it.

2. My students need much more scaffolding on their reading, particularly at the beginning of a book. Although it’s true that their introductory college English class will assign large chunks of reading, it’s not true that my students are there yet. We need to build, step by step, to that standard.

3. It’s a long year, a long haul, there will be failure, and it’s OK to fail. It’s important to build academic character, to show to my students that part of succeeding is failing. That’s why they write 18 AP practice essays this year. And that’s why they’ll read 12 books this year. My students have been so used to succeeding, but the only way to grow is to struggle.

(I need to tell myself the same thing sometimes.) 

 I’m in school (again), this time for a master’s in library and information science.

Although I’m not clear whether becoming a librarian makes sense to me, I do know that being a student makes me a better teacher.

I’m feeling the challenge, the stress, and the worry that I’m not good enough. I wonder if I’m doing my assignment right and what the professor will think. I procrastinate, get jittery, and then push through with multi-hour work marathons.

Sounds similar to what my students go through.

The thing I have to remember is: I’ve always been good at school. Even when I’ve struggled, I’ve succeeded.

For my students, this hasn’t always been the case. School is not a place of confidence or comfort. It’s a place where, for more than 10 years, they’ve struggled, felt lost, and noticed their teachers not truly believing in them.

No wonder why they sometimes want to give up.

As their teacher, I have to understand my students and their journey to figure school out. I have to have empathy. But my empathy must not come from guilt or low expectations. Rather, it must come from the expectation of brilliance. While I expect greatness, I must also see failure as part of the process. In fact, if there is to be any true learning, there must be failure.

That’s why I’m excited about the way I’m teaching my English class this year. My students are writing an essay a week, which means lots of writing practice and peer review. Most important, there are many chances for success — and for failure. The best part about building in failure is that it’s also building in chances to rebound. After all, finding success after failure is stronger than always succeeding.