"Do You Remember Me?"
Last night--after a long day at school, a long baseball practice (I help coach a team of 9-year olds), and a long wait in the "express" line behind some nimrod who was paying for what looked like $5000 worth of groceries with an out-of-state two-party check and who had no ID to prove that he was actually the person named thereon--I found myself at the cash register holding my bag of ice. I'm sure I looked even grumpier than usual as I dug through my wallet for enough cash to purchase this single item, a last-minute necessity for some family affair involving the in-laws. Ugh! My feet were sore; I was tired; and I just wasn't in the mood to suffer any (more) fools.
Then I saw her.
Somewhere beneath that spotless complexion, somewhere behind those hopeful blue eyes, somewhere between the "kid" I was 17 years ago and the old man I am today was one of my former students. What was her name? A quick glance at the name tag told me "Melinda," but that wasn't ringing any bells. Then, like a mallet on a tubular bell: Mindy!
"Hi, Mindy!" I said. "What are you up to these days?"
As I handed her my money, Mindy smiled (no braces now) that wide grin common to all her family, many of whom have filtered through my classroom over the years. "You remember me? I can't believe you remember me!" And in the few moments it took to complete my transaction, I got an update on Mindy's educational goals and family plans. She's an adult now, but her sense of humor is intact, so she clearly remembers what it was like to be a kid. I left the store feeling much better about life than when I came in even though my feet were still sore and I still had an evening with the in-laws yet to endure.
To me, this is one of the good parts about being a teacher: meeting up with those who were once students, seeing them out in the Real World doing things beyond the classroom in which I remember them. Sadly, I'm sure I walk by plenty of former students that I don't recognize simply because they no longer look at all like they did when they were in the ninth grade. Some will approach: "Do you remember me?" Sometimes I may need a hint, but usually I'll get the name, and a sudden burst of long buried memories flood out, so that even as I am walking away, going back to whatever I was doing, I can't help chuckling over how they've grown, changed, improved, matured. That punk who spent most of his junior high school career drawing semi-obscene doodles on my desks is now a stockbroker? And he's married?! With two kids of his own?!! Or that shy young lady whose voice I never heard in all the time she was in my class has become a prosecuting attorney who argues cases before the judge and jury? Or that skinny kid who was forever teased by his bulkier classmates manages a gym? Or the awkward girl who slouched to hide the fact that she was larger than most of the boys in her class...Wow!
Not all the stories are so hopeful. Some former students end up in jail...and sometimes it isn't who I'd have expected. Sometimes I see former students in the obituaries. The suicides are the hardest to bear; clearly they did not absorb the lessons I tried to teach...or maybe I somehow failed them?
But most of my interactions with former students are happy, both of us glad to be remembered by someone who meant more to us than we dared admit at the time. And that brings me to the reason I am posting this blog so near the end of the year.
Chances are, oh students of mine, that our paths will cross again even after you leave junior high school. Some of you will stay in touch by e-mail. Some of you might think to send me a high school or college graduation announcement, a note when you get your mission call, a wedding invitation, or a new car when you get rich and want to thank your favorite teachers. (I can dream!) The question is this:
When our paths cross again, what will you have to share? How do you want me to remember you and what will you most remember about our time together in this virtual classroom? How will you have changed? What new adventures will you have to tell me about? Tomorrow's adventures are today's dreams, and my sincerest wish for you is that you have plenty of each.
Until we meet again....
Then I saw her.
Somewhere beneath that spotless complexion, somewhere behind those hopeful blue eyes, somewhere between the "kid" I was 17 years ago and the old man I am today was one of my former students. What was her name? A quick glance at the name tag told me "Melinda," but that wasn't ringing any bells. Then, like a mallet on a tubular bell: Mindy!
"Hi, Mindy!" I said. "What are you up to these days?"
As I handed her my money, Mindy smiled (no braces now) that wide grin common to all her family, many of whom have filtered through my classroom over the years. "You remember me? I can't believe you remember me!" And in the few moments it took to complete my transaction, I got an update on Mindy's educational goals and family plans. She's an adult now, but her sense of humor is intact, so she clearly remembers what it was like to be a kid. I left the store feeling much better about life than when I came in even though my feet were still sore and I still had an evening with the in-laws yet to endure.
To me, this is one of the good parts about being a teacher: meeting up with those who were once students, seeing them out in the Real World doing things beyond the classroom in which I remember them. Sadly, I'm sure I walk by plenty of former students that I don't recognize simply because they no longer look at all like they did when they were in the ninth grade. Some will approach: "Do you remember me?" Sometimes I may need a hint, but usually I'll get the name, and a sudden burst of long buried memories flood out, so that even as I am walking away, going back to whatever I was doing, I can't help chuckling over how they've grown, changed, improved, matured. That punk who spent most of his junior high school career drawing semi-obscene doodles on my desks is now a stockbroker? And he's married?! With two kids of his own?!! Or that shy young lady whose voice I never heard in all the time she was in my class has become a prosecuting attorney who argues cases before the judge and jury? Or that skinny kid who was forever teased by his bulkier classmates manages a gym? Or the awkward girl who slouched to hide the fact that she was larger than most of the boys in her class...Wow!
Not all the stories are so hopeful. Some former students end up in jail...and sometimes it isn't who I'd have expected. Sometimes I see former students in the obituaries. The suicides are the hardest to bear; clearly they did not absorb the lessons I tried to teach...or maybe I somehow failed them?
But most of my interactions with former students are happy, both of us glad to be remembered by someone who meant more to us than we dared admit at the time. And that brings me to the reason I am posting this blog so near the end of the year.
Chances are, oh students of mine, that our paths will cross again even after you leave junior high school. Some of you will stay in touch by e-mail. Some of you might think to send me a high school or college graduation announcement, a note when you get your mission call, a wedding invitation, or a new car when you get rich and want to thank your favorite teachers. (I can dream!) The question is this:
When our paths cross again, what will you have to share? How do you want me to remember you and what will you most remember about our time together in this virtual classroom? How will you have changed? What new adventures will you have to tell me about? Tomorrow's adventures are today's dreams, and my sincerest wish for you is that you have plenty of each.
Until we meet again....
posted by MRT at 11:37 AM
2 Comments:
When/If (which ever you prefer) we meet again, I surely hope I'll be making more than $4.50 an hour at my job, (if I do in fact have a job--I can only hope my parents won't mind me mooching for too much longer) which I'm going to quit as soon as I get some kind of diploma or completion statment from some kind of school/training boot camp/class, so I can really get started on a careerof some kind. As you can see I really don't have anything set in stone, and I don't plan on ever really making a map of where I'm going to be in however many years. (Maps tend to get too crinkled and torn to even be called legible all too easily for comfort.) So if/when you see me with shocking pink hair spikes and a nose ring or the same old glasses (maybe even contacts) with the same old hair (maybe even high lighted) don't be too shocked, that is if you remember who I am/was . . .
Mr. Thompson,
I don't know how you do it. If i was a teacher it would be so hard for me to see students with so much going for them when in my class then later finding out that they have commited a crime or even suicide. its hard for me just being a best friend/ mother of his child, to go through this. i can't imagine how you do it but i respect you for it! you were his favorite teacher i know that for a fact. he loved the reading and books we read in class and your sense of humor. I also loved your class even though i am horrible at english but your humor kept me going. i also have a blog now for me to vent to since i kinda lost the one person i could vent to. you should check it out. i will figure out a way to get a link to you.
http://darcie-thoughtsfeelings.blogspot.com/
that is the website where my blog is. I will come visit soon (once i have "our" (mine and nate's) little girl which is anytime now. i hope everything is going good! :) i will see you soon!
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