Teacher Recommendation Letters - how to capitalize on connection

Ahh, junior year. The year when students most have to impress their teachers in order to secure stellar recommendation letters for their application files. The year, seemingly, of some artifice.

Is it, though, artificial? Does it have to be that way? Do students need to keep their teachers at an arm's length, and vice versa?

The simple answer is obviously going to be "no." Well, it should be simple, but most people don't realize the empirical, verifiable, undeniable impact of emotions. Emotions are not amorphous blobs traveling through air and evaporating. They produce discernible, mathematically observable reactions. At least, they can.

To simplify the conversation, when talking to students, I might say something like this: "I know you don't like your English teacher, but if you were your own English teacher, would you like you?"

Oftentimes, this question causes a little moment of self-reflection. The student I'm talking to may begin to do some mental gymnastics, or even admit that they have some shortcomings without more than a little persuasion. Sometimes they become indignant, offering that Mr. So-and-So doesn't understand the teenage zeitgeist and should be fired, or that their syllabus is so boring they feel like they're dying a slow death in class each time.

Whatever distraction they may hurl at me, I maintain my position: "Would you be your own favorite student?"

Pause.

"No."

How have we become conditioned as a society, then, to believe we are owed acts of kindness or reciprocation when we offer nothing as an initial offering? People do not owe us anything. We earn it, whatever "it" may represent.

So I implore my students to be better. Be more curious. Not only about the subject matter, but also about the person teaching it. Be more visible. Participate, but deliberately, with intention, like wielding a sword, not waving around a popsicle stick. Don't reach out to your teacher only to ask for homework extensions or for constant clarification--demonstrate you are independent, capable, and. most importantly, considerate. When you finally have that emergency moment in which you have to email your teacher over Thanksgiving break and it's a situation that absolutely requires communication over a holiday, your teacher will only have patience if it was the first time, not the tenth. Remember, emotions are valuable. Emotions are math and science, the seeds of war, the resolution to conflict.

Be a person who could be loved. Open yourself up to the world. Have more patience for others, but be a self-advocate when necessary. Never be a door mat. Be a sparing, ethical hunter, securing only what is necessary, not everything you desire. Make sure you eat the share of the world you so hungrily grabbed with your searching hands. Let nothing be wasted.

If you can do these things, maybe Mr. So-and-So will surprise you. Maybe he will apologize for being short with you a month ago. Maybe he will tell you his son's been sick, or that he has a second job that delays his essay-grading. Maybe he will light up when you ask him for book recommendations, breaking the monotony of his ill-appreciated existence to remind him of what likely led him to teaching in the first place: the emotion of loving to read, and the joy of sharing that love.

So go out in the world and get those good recommendation letters, but understand that you're not fooling anyone. You're not "playing the game" or deceiving anyone. You think you are, but you're not. You may have dismantled the first bricks of the dividing wall between you and your teachers out of necessity and not authenticity, but that doesn't mean what you can learn once crossing the barrier can't enrich your soul.

At the end of the day, my career-long, data-driven results convey a surprising yet satisfying trend: good people get the gold.