For the first time in my career, I am enjoying the experience of seeing students I first taught as freshmen, and then again as juniors and seniors, graduate from high school. Of course, these students have had their high school experience dramatically altered as a result of the pandemic, but as Illinois and the United States reopens, they have been able to have a more normal end to their senior year.
All this has left me feeling nostalgic for when I first had many of these students four years ago and reflecting on how quickly four years have flown by. In particular, I’m struck by how much they have matured, physically, emotionally, mentally, and academically. Obviously, it’s not surprising that this happened, but to have witnessed much of it, and to have maintained relationships with students over these four years has been a real joy. And as we come to a close, receiving notes of thanks from them has been a gratifying experience. That said, I was reflecting with a colleague, these notes are somehow a little less gratifying than they were over my first few years teaching. What is more meaningful in this moment is having a fuller sense of the scope of their growth, which I’m going to try to highlight in a few examples.
At senior prom last night, I was able to see many of them in person for the first time since we were last in the school building, and catching up with these students, hearing about their post-secondary plans, and reminiscing about the past four years felt like a form of closure. Pseudonyms used below.
Uriel
I had Uriel as a freshman and then again as a junior last year. As a freshman, Uriel was a natural leader with a great sense of humor, and also a freshman-boy-like tendency to disrupt class, talk with his friends, and generally try to draw attention to himself. One day in class, during a four corners activity as students moved throughout the classroom to represent their views on different statements, he grabbed a pillow owned by the teacher I was sharing the room with and began to hump it for his friends, who, of course, started to laugh.
To be honest, I had to try not to laugh as I asked whether this was appropriate classroom behavior. In retrospect, this is funnier having watched the animated show Big Mouth where a 7th grader has an intimate relationship with a couple of pillows. I hadn’t thought of this moment for a while, until I saw him, and asked him, “Do you remember when you humped a pillow in my class?” He grinned, and responded, “That wasn’t my fault.” Incredulously, I asked, “So, the pillow humped you?” With a smirk, he responded, “That sounds about right.”
Uriel had matured greatly by the time I had him as a junior, and although he still had some wild tendencies, his academics had greatly improved, as well as his ability to focus. He maintained a great sense of humor and quick wit.
Robert
Another student I ran into is Robert. As a freshman, he was always a good-natured friendly student and who struggled academically, and wasn’t a great self-advocate when he needed help. This had not changed much during his junior year, so the transition to remote learning during COVID-19 was a big challenge, and he fell behind on work and was often unresponsive. Towards the end of the term, he began to follow up on getting some work done, but a plagiarized assignment from a classmate. As soon as I looked at it, I could tell I’d already read it, so told him to complete his own work. Within a few hours, he turned in original work of decent quality with an apology that he got overwhelmed.
Last night I saw him for the first time since then, a year later. He said hello, and then right in front of four of his friends, he said, “Mr. Rolnick, I need to apologize to you.” I stared at him for a second, confused, and then asked, “What for?” He recounted the story, expressed his guilt, and explained that he still felt bad about it. As his friends laughed and made fun of him for cheating and apologizing a year later, but it showed character development and I could tell that he’d been holding onto guilt about it. It would have been easy for him to ignore me and suppressed the feeling, but instead, he addressed it directly.
Steven
This one isn’t about character development but is pretty hilarious. One of my students on the autism spectrum approached me and asked if I remembered when he touched my head. “Of course,” I responded, and began to recount my view of what happened. I kneeled down next to his desk as a freshman, and he reached over and touched my bald head. “Steven, why is your hand on my head?” I asked. He responded, “It feels nice,” as he moved his hand across my head enjoying the sensation of a somewhat freshly shaved head.
I made eye contact with my co-teacher who holding in uproarious laughter on the other side of the room and reminded Steven that we’d been working on keeping hands to ourselves. As I recounted the story to Steven, he burst out in cackling laugher for at least a good 30 seconds as he remembered the experience to the amusement of the other chaperones sitting nearby.
Jorge
Although Jorge isn’t the type to attend prom, of all the graduating seniors, he might be one I am proudest of. As a freshman, he was quiet and seemed not to be very scholastically motivated. He did okay, but often didn’t turn in assignments, and overall seemed a little disinterested. I have a clear memory of talking with him and another one of his teachers, encouraging him to work a little harder because we thought he had a lot of ability that wasn’t being expressed. The year ended much as it started. As a junior, he was still a capable student, and more on top of his work, but still very quiet. When the year came to a premature close due to COVID-19, he turned into one of my top students. He completed all his work on time, and responded to feedback while many other students completely dropped off.
This year, he asked for a college recommendation, which I was happy to provide, and I was lucky enough to have him in class second term. He was the top student in the class. Still quiet, but thoughtful when called on, and thorough and insightful in his writing and analysis. He logged into class early this morning, the last day, to thank me for encouraging him and believing in him, and helping him to be successful. I responded, “Thank you, but you did this, and you deserve everything good that will come your way.”
Teaching can suck sometimes, but I can’t imagine doing anything more fulfilling.