The Parkland shootings, which took place in nearby Broward County, took place almost three months. I, along with many others, are trying to process this tragedy. Friends, family, former teachers, and current students are still sharing their thoughts with me, and those will be the topic of a future article. Meanwhile, I am sharing an article reflecting my own experience teaching a college preparation course almost twenty-five years ago:
May 28, 1993, was graduation day at the Capital District Educational Opportunity Center, a division of Hudson Valley Community College which offers a wide range of programs and educationally and economically disadvantaged adults.
During and after the ceremony, there were laughter, tears, and the inevitable thanks that we teachers receive from our students for the time we spent with them in the classroom. My college preparation students tanked me for guiding them through their term papers, helping them improve their study skills, and making sense out of difficult reading passages. What my students don’t realize is that I, as an adult educator, have learned as much from them as they learned from me.
I have learned about determination. Two and a half years ago, Michael was lying in a hospital bed, recovering from a construction accident that nearly killed him and ended his career. Rather than curing the powers that be, he decided, twenty years after finishing high school, to rebuild his life by pursuing a college degree.
“I’ve always believed that God never closes a door without opening a window,” Michael wrote in one of his essays. His window was going back to school. Despite the pain of his injuries, a long commute from Know to Albany, and family responsibilities, Michael came every day, motivated, determined, and optimistic that he would reach his goal. That same determination will serve him well at Hudson Valley Community College come September.
I have learned about courage. Sharon is a recovering agoraphobiac, a woman afraid to leave the shelter of her home. The first day of class, she learned that an oral presentation was a requirement of the course. She was terrified. Coming to school was enough of a challenge; speaking in front of a class was nearly impossible. The last week of class, however, her face white but determined, her hands gripping the podium for emotional and physical support, Sharon gave her speech to her supportive classmates. When she finished, the class broke into spontaneous applause.
I have learned about progress. Carmen was a D student at Colonie High School. Returning to our program at the age of thirty, he was convinced that he would barely complete my course. “I don’t think I deserve to pass,” he said. “I am not sure if I am smart enough to handle college.” His final essay belied his own belief. His piece on what was needed to succeed in college was nearly letter perfect and showcased the progress he had made this semester. “You deserved this A. You can succeed in college,” I wrote on his paper.
I have learned to be tough. Carol, a recovering addict who spent a friend time as a homeless person on the streets of Albany, a student who was repeating my course after failing in the fall, thanked me for taking off points every time she turned in a paper late. “It is important for me to take responsibility when I fail.” She also advised me to stop listening to the recovering addicts’ sob stories and start coming down hard on them for not completing assignments. “We know how to bulls**t you,Marilyn. Don’t listen,” she advised me.
I have learned about compassion. On the days that I was tired and ‘soul weary,’ as one of my perceptive students said, the students cared about me. “Get some sleep Marilyn. We can wait for our papers.”
I also saw their compassion for each other: the student groups, the impromptu tutoring, the support that gave each other either in learning how to use the computer or in keeping up spirits when someone failed a test.
The students have given of themselves: a perspective comment, a good argument, a family story, and anecdote, a journal entry letting me know they are enjoying may class. I read essays about a very special Christmas, a child’s birth, a grandmother’s death, homeless families in bus depots, and numerous stories of recover.
I have been given much more. They have shared something of their lives. As a result, they have enriched me as both a teacher and a person. For this, I thank each one of them.