It’s that time of year when high school seniors are finalizing their candidate prep packages to apply to college.  One key requirement is a letter of recommendation from a trusted faculty member.  I take this invitation seriously — it means a young person sees me as a trusted advisor, someone who sees the value in them and will be proud to endorse them.  And I do.  Usually.

It’s a hard thing, sometimes, to adequately and individually express one’s admiration for someone.  “Is a pleasure to have in class” doesn’t quite seem to say that I enjoy engaging with this student on a daily basis, am inspired by their insight and perspective, and admire their commitment to school activities, or their passion for cultivating their interests and hobbies.  Equally difficult is to write the recommendation for a student you don’t feel comfortable putting your name on for a myriad of reasons:  conflicting personalities, excessive tardiness, apathetic effort in class, lack of desire…rudeness. Harder still to NOT write the letter when you know the person asked because they really, really want it.  Or need it.

Which got me thinking about all the times I have asked for a recommendation from a colleague or a friend and have not received it.  It’s a personal blow to your self-esteem.  It makes you question your self-worth and your worth as a person.  If someone who claims to be your friend or “biggest supporter” won’t put it in writing, how much of that is just lip-service?  The proof is in the pudding, so to speak.  I’ve had excuses ranging from “it would be a conflict of interest” to “I don’t write them for anyone” (only to discover that they do, in fact, write them for a lot of people) to “we don’t work in the same industry” to — worse — no response at all.  I’ve had a colleague agree to be a reference for a job only to find out later that when she was called she had nothing positive to say — yet continued to say to my face that I was a good teacher.  I had another friend agree to write a recommendation on LinkedIn only to delete it shortly afterward.  I don’t know why, but I do know that it changed our friendship.  Saying you believe in someone but not be willing to put it in writing negates the first part.

So when a student I haven’t connected with comes to me for a rec, I always say yes.  I find that I often have to sit down with them and learn more about their interests and aspirations in order to tailor the letter for that individual, but I never want a child to feel as though they don’t have worth and plenty to offer.  I have found that these conversations reveal something about my role in that relationship which may have influenced how I saw the student.  Maybe some people don’t realize the power of an endorsement from someone they respect, but I do and I never want a person who trusted me enough to ask in the first place to feel less than.  It takes courage to be vulnerable.  Pause on that:  a vulnerable person came to you for help because your opinion of them matters.  It matters.  There is no greater compliment.

That’s something to write about — courage. I have found that the letters that have been difficult to write were the most rewarding.  I found myself actively rooting for the student — celebrating with them when the fat envelope arrived.  Find the core value in another and celebrate it.  Everyone has worth.  Write your letter.  Even if it’s hard.  It will force you to be honest about your role in the relationship and the work you need to do to make it better. It will help you see the person with new eyes.  It is a small thing that will have a great impact.  That one small act of kindness may be the hinge for doors to open — it’s nothing to you, but something huge for them.

For those of you who have written a letter on my behalf, thank you.  It gave me confidence and courage.  My success is also yours.  I’m thankful you wanted to share in that with me.