A Truth About Apathy and Learning

If you had told me in 11th grade, as I sat in AP Lit, that I would someday give a keynote at the AP national conference, I would have laughed in your face.

For one, my only experience with keynotes at that point was motivational speakers telling us not to bully or do drugs. Fine messaging, but I wasn’t exactly inspired to become a professional speaker.

But even more glaring was my aversion to academics. In 11th grade, my primary objectives were passing classes, getting out of high school, and playing ultimate frisbee. AP Lit was a hurdle I had to clear to accomplish two of those. It also helped get me into college, which led to some pretty regular ultimate frisbee. So really, it accomplished all three.

I didn’t understand the value of that class or most of my classes in high school. The idea that I would someday spend my career in education was preposterous.

The Skills That Stick

I didn’t realize the skills I was honing in that class would come in handy later as I taught my own writing courses. I didn’t know I’d use them to write books for educators, poems for my wife, stories for my kids, letters to congressmen, blog posts for all of you fine people, or a keynote for thousands of people at the AP conference.

I didn’t realize when I was in school just how formative my education was.

Education helps shape us into who we are and gives us tools to chase our potential. Of course it does; as educators, we know this. It’s the primary motivator of almost every teacher I’ve ever met. And yet, students often fail to see this value. It can be incredibly frustrating to watch young people with so much potential take for granted such a powerful opportunity in their lives.

Why Students Don’t Always See the Value

I remember teaching the novel East of Eden one year, and half my class didn’t do the assigned reading. I asked why, and they all exclaimed, “It’s just so boring.”

I wanted to explode. “You guys! How can this be boring? This story is about the human condition! Reading this book can help you make better decisions and seek goodness for the rest of your life. You have to read it!”

Blank stares.

The Brain Science Behind Apathy

Apparently, making good decisions as an adult was not at the front of their minds. Literally. The prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for planning, abstract thinking, and weighing long-term consequences, doesn’t fully develop until around age 25. That explains a lot of the apathy we see in classrooms, and why my students weren’t as invested in the book as I was. That kind of future-oriented thinking just isn’t accessible to many students yet.

So did I throw out the book and let them off the hook?

Of course not. I used different strategies I’ve learned and developed to get them to read, discuss, and write about it. Some of those strategies made them eager to do the work. Some simply compelled them to do it. Some students ended the unit calling East of Eden their favorite book of all time. Others threw a party to celebrate the last time they’d ever have to read Steinbeck again.

Teaching Can Be a Long-Term Investment

I ran into one of those “apathetic” students at a car dealership this past year, where he’s now a manager. Ryan was quick to show me the tattoo on his arm: the word timshel.

If you’ve read East of Eden, you’re probably smiling right now. If you haven’t, I won’t spoil it, but I will say the book’s central ideas meant something more to this former student, years later.

Just because your students may not yet appreciate the value of their education doesn’t mean it’s not valuable.

When students understand the full value of their time with skilled educators in a supportive environment, they benefit from that awareness. But even when they don’t, growth is still happening. Students are still being transformed.

If you're an educator, you are making investments that may take years to reveal their return. That’s one of the harder parts of this work, but also one of its greatest truths.

Keep Planting Seeds

My 11th grade AP Lit teacher could have looked at me and seen just another apathetic student doing the bare minimum.

And she would’ve been right.

But she persisted anyway. And somehow, those lessons stuck. I became an English teacher, and daily reader and writer, and of all the conferences in the world, I got asked to speak at AP one. Wild.

Thank you to the teachers who believe in apathetic students with loads of potential.

And thank you, Mrs. Perry, my AP Lit teacher.