The spring semester just ended and the super-fast time of reflection before moving on to summer activities has arrived. For me that time of reflection is mostly squeezed into longer drives since I don’t really slow down at all. Ever.
Classes ended but the meetings and responsibilities did not. Graduation arrived on Wednesday and my Thursday began at 3:40 am when I got up to get ready to drive to a 2-day shift as an Artist in Residence for a middle school in Lexington. Bouncing around in my mind between podcasts was a list of things I want to do differently in my teaching in the fall and a couple of “thank yous” I received as the semester ended.
Teaching is hard. There are the occasional “thank yous” from students but I’ve learned that these are not the norm. Being thoughtful is a lost art and especially for a senior transitioning from college kid to adult in the span of a one hour ceremony, remembering to say thanks is not high on the list of things to do. There’s also the fact that my style of teaching is mostly a long-game style. My students are not as likely to appreciate what I’ve done for them this year as they are five years from now. With few other perks to the job than watching students grow and become great, it’s easy to get down by the end of a semester.
This year I worked very closely with a group of seniors in my area. These are apparently thoughtful people because of the 4 I spent the most time with this year, 3 of them took the time to say thank you. (No shade to the 4th, I really like them and we’re cool.) There were even a couple of other students who also offered their gratitude before leaving campus for the summer and that was really nice.
I’m writing this blog to note my gratitude for their gratitude. Because, you know, it’s weird to say “thank you” for a “thank you” note. When my kids were in preschool they were taught to say thank you by Mrs. Harris. The wise Mrs. Harris told them that they should say thank you anytime someone did something nice for them or said something nice to them. We would get locked in these eternal dialogs of “Thank you for saying thank you!” and “Thank you for saying thank you for saying thank you!” until I finally just gave up. So if you said thank you to me these last few weeks in any way, I want you to know that meant something to me.
If you don’t teach, it’s difficult to convey just how hard it can be to be an effective teacher. If you’re doing it right (and I get to decide what is “right” because this is my blog) you try to be 100% present for your students. This means that it doesn’t matter what’s going on in your life personally. When it’s time to teach, boom, you wipe that white board of problems in your brain clean and you instantly become super passionate about helping someone else. It can mean you read a rejection email on your way to class and when you touch that doorknob, you put it away and smile really big and greet your morning class with a “WOOOOOOOO!”. That happened this semester. It can mean you get some really crappy news that proves that your hard work is not appreciated or even noticed and you go to your next class and dig deep to provide the right string of words that helps a student see something in a different way and they immediately have the best idea they’ve ever had. That happened this semester too.
Doing this same type of putting yourself in a box until the end of class over and over again can get heavier and heavier near the end of the semester. That student who just never listens to you but demands so.
much.
of.
your.
time.
..may only need one more debate before something clicks in their brain and they make a huge change. But dang, do you have one more debate in you? Your tank is empty and you have a line of people asking to be filled.
Nothing refills like a thank you. Sometimes it can be a simple “thanks” tagged onto the end of an email. It works. Other times it may be a simple gift or token of appreciation. One student gave me farm eggs and a cut flower. Instantly lifted me. Or maybe it’s a handwritten card. Those work really well. If you’re like me and you forget every compliment in 10 seconds while remembering every negative word spoken for 100 years, it’s nice to have the card to find again a few months later. Heck, there was even one kid at the middle school this week who knew me for a total of 53 minutes and when the bell rang, he doubled back and said “thank you” to me before going to his next class.
So thanks for the thanks little dude. And thanks to all the grateful people for the powerful words.
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