Deciding as a Class What the Year Should Feel Like

Every teacher wants a strong start to the school year, to strike the right balance of high expectations and genuine care. But diving into the syllabus on day one rarely sets the tone we’re hoping for, and most icebreakers eat up time without building anything that lasts.

So how do we structure the first day in a way that creates a resource we can actually use? In my classroom, I do this by spending the first day of class designing the last day.

DESIGNING THE LAST DAY ON THE FIRST DAY

I developed this activity because I wanted my students to start the year with the end already in mind—not just what we would cover, but how they hoped to feel when it was over. On the first day of class, I open a document on the screen for students to see. It has a three-column table and a question in each column:

1. What will we do this year to get the most out of this experience?
2. What do you hope to accomplish this year?
3. How do you want to feel on the last day?

This is how we begin to design the last day. I first ask students to talk to the person sitting next to them about their answers to these questions, and then we discuss them as a class. As similarities begin to appear in the responses, I type them into the appropriate column. Some answers spark a wider conversation about priorities and about what we want our time together to look like. What emerges from those conversations goes into the list too.

After we respond to all three questions, I put the document away. We don’t return to it as a whole class until the very last day.

HOW THESE QUESTIONS HELP SET THE TONE FOR THE SCHOOL YEAR

The three questions in the activity aren’t random—they are designed to help students create a shared set of agreements for the class, set goals for themselves, and consider what they want to feel like when the class is complete.

For example, responses to the first question typically include pay attention, complete work on time, and arrive to class prepared. As I write down their responses, I intentionally frame them as agreements that we’re all making together—In this class, we will pay attention. These are our expectations, I tell them.

That distinction matters as the year progresses. If a student struggles to uphold the agreements, I can conference with them and bring up the document. I might say something like “Remember when we all agreed to this? How do you think you’re doing?” This kind of intervention is quick and easy, and it’s also a way to encourage relational accountability—instead of the teacher handing down consequences, students see how their choices exist within the context of the whole class.

The second question invites students to identify their goals. I teach a composition and literature course, so students might come up with responses like I want to be a better reader and writer. Or I want to be more confident participating in a whole class discussion.

This information is useful because I can use it to frame our coursework throughout the year. I might highlight how a new unit connects to our goals or use it to answer the inevitable “Why are we doing this?” directly: “You said you wanted to be more confident giving presentations. This is the practice.”

The third question, which is the most important, asks students to consider the emotional impression of the course experience. By high school, many students have likely sat through a course and had, at the end of it, no clear memory of what they did or why it mattered. I share that I sometimes felt that way as a high school student too, and that I don’t want that for them.

Their answers to this question are usually aspirational and specific. They want to feel challenged, proud, confident, and prepared for what comes next. Like the first list, this one becomes a touchstone. If a student seems checked out or quietly dissatisfied midyear, I can meet with them and we can revisit the list.

I might say, “Do you feel any of these things right now? What would need to change to get you there?” The conversation that follows is student-led and grounded in their own words, which is exactly what makes it effective.

REVISITING OUR ANSWERS ON THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL

In the fizzy excitement of the last day of school, no one is thinking about our chart from the first day. So when I pull it up again, students say almost in unison, “Oh yeahhh!” and we all laugh. Then we go through each column, and I ask the same question after each one: How did we do?

This is where the activity really shines. Students are genuinely moved to find their own goals sitting there, largely met, and written in their own words. The distance between who they were in September and who they are now becomes visible and concrete. Then we put it into words together.

Psychologist Daniel Kahneman’s research on the “peak-end rule” suggests that people remember experiences not as a running average but by two moments: the emotional high point and the ending. This activity is designed to make the ending count.

It gives students the language and the structure to walk out of the room knowing what they achieved, how they got there, and how they feel about it. And when someone asks about the course later on, students can talk about their experience with real confidence.

The first and last days of school are some of the most important of the year. This activity encourages teachers to make the most of them, and it gives students something to carry: a record of who they were when they walked in and evidence of who they became.