After writing my thirtieth letter of recommendation last fall, I had a little intervention with myself. This can’t happen again, I vowed.
And yet it most likely would happen again. How could it not? After all, I was teaching all juniors, and therefore the prospect loomed that I might be asked by upwards of fifty students to write 500 to 700 words explaining their virtues to an admissions committee. There had to be a fair way to put a cap on the number I write.
Could I just tell my students I was only writing a set number – say, ten? How would I decide what ten students? Would that stop other students from still approaching me after the fact? Would it stop them from using the very emotional and logical appeals they had honed with me in AP Lang all year? Would I be able to hold the line? Of course not.
Aside from students who were documented plagiarists, I always say yes. Even in the case of students who didn’t perform particularly well or who may have had the odd attitude or behavior issue, I always guiltily reflect on my own treatment of my high school teachers and consider how in many cases I received generosity I didn’t deserve. Hell, the only public speech I’ve ever given was about the moral obligation to bestow that very generosity.
Sometime in the spring, though, I had an idea. There was a gap of time between the conclusion of the AP Exam and the end of school. My plan was for students to read a classic novel of their choice and work on an in-class project. What if the in-class project was a way to earn a letter of rec? A way of showing the skills they had learned in the class?
Somewhere in the formulation of this activity I dubbed this the AP Lang Capstone Project.
What made it such a worthwhile assignment is the fact that it is formative. As I told the students when I unveiled the assignment, there would be no documentation of the Capstone Project in the online gradebook. It would not affect their grade. It was completely optional. But to receive a letter of rec (and college-essay feedback) from me, it was mandatory.
I wasn’t sure how many students would take up the project. After all, a further complicating factor of the project was that students had to present it to the class in June. How many would really be dedicated enough to see it through?
Around half, as it turns out – once again matching my 25+ total of letters of rec.
So my plan to reduce the number of letters this fall was a failure. HOWEVER. My attitude is very different a year later. Because these students completed an uncompensated project, I don’t feel any begrudging feeling as I write their letters outside of my contract hours. The students I am writing about all took time outside of school to complete this project, during the final month of school when students (and teachers) are ready for summer laziness.
An additional boon to my mood has been the opportunity to reflect on the accomplishments these students made with their projects. So many students chose the PEAK option in which they learned a new skill.
Many, many students learned to juggle:
As you can see from the names, some didn’t even have me for Lang…they just wanted their name on the board.
Others chose different skills:
One sixth block student, Neeha, used her considerable artistic gifts to create these amazing visual PSAs, modeled after World War II-era propaganda:
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One student, Abdul, took the time to organize and film a “this is Sportscenter” parody:
These are skills (or contributions to the school) that will have a lasting impact on their lives long after the concept of rhetorical analysis has left their memory, long after they remember having me as a teacher. Are they life-changing? No. Are they skills that make them a more interesting person? I think so.
This capstone project also gives me a very reasonable response to those students who have subsequently reached out requesting a letter of rec. And yet when non-Capstone students have emailed asking for a letter of rec, my response shows I still have a somewhat bleeding heart.
