Better Mad than Sad

When I was a teacher in boarding schools, I noticed a recurring shift in the emotions and expressions of the seniors about to graduate. At some point, about two to three weeks out from graduation, a number of our students - previously happy students who were well adjusted and spoke highly of their school and their peers and teachers - started to say things like, “I can’t wait to get out of this place.” Or, “I need this to be over - I’m so over this place!” And other expressions of semi-anger directed to the school that once contained almost the full array of their relationships, activities, challenges and joy. A month earlier, they might have used the word “love” to describe their feelings about the school. With a true ending on the horizon, that rich complex of feelings had been reduced to “this place sucks.”

When I would ask them about why they were talking that way, they might first say something like “the rules are too strict,” or something like that. And, of course, they were about to turn 18. Or in some cases already had. In that sense, they were on the cusp of legal adulthood still being treated like minors. That was understandable. But the expressions of negative feelings were more than that. 

At some point I realized it. Simply put, it was easier to feel Mad (angry) than it was to feel Sad.

All those emotions had to be grounded somewhere. And if the students were able to be honest,  it might have looked more like tears and hugs and saying things like "I can’t believe that in two weeks I’m not gonna see you every day!” But that would be exhausting, and feel too vulnerable. Instead, many would try to diminish the pain by pretending that it didn’t really mean that much, and that they were so over it.  Some would wish away the final two weeks of their school experience with a taste of manufactured sourness to cover the richer bittersweet taste of moving on, and leaving behind.

When I became the Dean of Students, and had the pulpit in school meetings, I decided to pay special attention to those final weeks at school.  I made it my habit to describe to students what I had seen for those many years - the “this place sucks” syndrome, and to propose an alternative. 

Rather than taking the easy way out and grounding all that healthy, but heavy emotion into something cheap and easy, like petty complaints, lean into the sadness. Realize that something incredibly impactful on your life was about to end, and it will hurt when it does. And then look at the calendar, and appreciate that you actually have two whole weeks of time to express gratitude to students, teachers and staff who were on this journey with you. Find things to laugh about, and indulge in some “instant nostalgia,” remembering the highlights (yes, and some lowlights, too) of this incredible journey. Don’t wish away what could be some of the more meaningful days of your school life - actively claim them, by actively appreciating the humans who walked with you.

I half expected that my suggestion would be dismissed by my students as mere platitudes, and more adult noise begging them to be nice. But to my surprise, more than a few students thanked me for that offering as the final weeks went by. And a few faculty members did the same - faculty lives are about to change, too, and we feel grief mixed with relief when a school year ends. 

Asking your community to treat the final weeks with something like reverence - or at least, to treat them as an opportunity to say things that will otherwise go unsaid - can be a positive call to meaningful endings. And your students will have a lifetime of them to negotiate, so let’s do what we always do - teach with love and hope.