Memoir about my students' memoirs.

My students are beautiful. So, so beautiful that I feel like the word does not reach the depth of its own meaning. My first “big” assignment for my course this semester was to write a letter of introduction. They were to tell me a little bit about themselves- who are they, what they think is important for me to know, why are they in school, what do they hope to get out of it?

Since I’ve started teaching I have felt like it’s a very good fit. Even if the class is a challenging one, I usually leave a session feeling much better than when it started. I also usually leave with a feeling of satisfaction and a lingering thought of “I like this!” But these letters, so far, make me realize why people love teaching… in addition to why teachers use so many multiple choice and scantron assignments….



Almost all of my students are first time college students, if not returning after dropping out. The vast majority are co-enrolled in the most basic English class we offer in which they are learning the basic mechanics of the sentence structure. It’s a “high risk” population with a high dropout rate, and finding a teacher that won’t completely scare the students away or make them feel dumb is even riskier. One man I talked to refuses to teach these courses because he finds the student’s low skills and lack of motivation make him impatient. I wound up teaching part of this course last semester on accident, and I liked it so much I wanted to do it again.

I was really nervous about giving this particular assignment. When I decided to finally use it, I was still scared that it would be too much, and that students would leave because they felt I was assigning too much reading and writing after only one class meeting. I was honestly expecting to get back only a couple of students at the next meeting, less than a page each for each of them, turned in late, of “I dicided to come to CR ‘cause education is important.” “I am the first in my family to attend college and I want to be a nurse,” or, the all too familiar, “IDK. College seems like a good choice and I am excited to learn from u.” From talking to students over the past year as a counselor I have heard incredibly moving stories of people’s motivations to go to college, so a large part of me feels guilty and insensitive for underestimating the depth of what these students would write.

“Learning something new each day makes me powerful inside my mind,” writes a student after describing crippling experiences of public humiliation and being labeled “stupid” her whole life. Another student takes me through the whole gamut of emotions as she begins writing to me about being abused as a child, seeing her mother find mercy in suicide, her journey through self-forgiveness, and then transitions to her spirited love for sports and then her knee-slapping witty anecdotes about her 9-month long romance with boy who she feels she is “in love with,” “but we’ll see if he’s lucky enough to keep me.” I comment with a smiley face and write with my green pen “smart woman,” even though she is still only in her teen years.

And then, the student who is brutally honest with his lack of motivation to learn. He writes he has skated and cheated all through continuation school, and he is the best learner he knows when he wants to be, but the most stubborn a*s when he doesn’t want to be. Though his spelling is impeccable and his grammar is almost flawless, he doesn’t have a major, “and I don’t give a sh*t.” Because I am the responding type, I wait a while and decide I will come back to this paper.

The next class meeting comes before I can get back to grading. That day I decide to weave my favorite article into a lesson about goal setting and building a supportive network. It’s an old article from Oprah magazine I have fallen in love with and have included in all of my classes so far. It’s more or less about how our attitude can influence our life. I read it, looking up at the students every now and then to make sure they aren’t asleep or texting.

At first I can’t tell with this particular student who self-describes as goal-less. His eyes are closed, he’s leaning against the wall, but he’s moving occasionally. I keep reading. When I stop 1/3 of the way through the article to talk about how life is 10% what happens, 90% how we perceive what happens, I notice his eyes are open, and he has been watching me. By the time I get near the end, when I’m thinking all the students are probably shifting in their chairs and wondering when this article is going to be over already, I look up and he is sitting, facing me, and looking. Not the look of “I’m hittin’ the bathroom as soon as she’s done," but watching me. When I ask them if they feel like this article is true, he nods his head in a way that looks shaky and unconfident, as if his head-nodding muscles are out of practice, as if he doesn’t know how to properly use them…. I wonder if anyone has ever given a sh*t about him…..

I read his letter again and it’s a tough one to respond to. I think it through and tell him I appreciate his honesty, and that “I’ll be honest, too. My natural urge is to be your cheerleader- and I am- but I don’t want to send you running in the opposite direction.” Of course I write much more. I thank him again for his letter and then I put on the last period, hoping he does not think my response is bullsh*it, even though that's the language he seems to speak.

Letter after letter, again and again, I feel a growing sense of “I am so lucky to have my job and such an incredible group of students!” Despite the misspellings and grammatical mistakes I can hear a voice come through in almost every letter. Some of them I wonder if the students realize for themselves what incredible stories they have. Motivation is hidden in the lines of the single parent who has a gaggle of young boys at home, struggles with “da babie daddy,” admits she cries when her sons read because she doesn’t know how and she wants to be a role model for them…. but she wonders if she can do it. Another student was born in a foreign country and is here to prove to his family that education is important to him, even though his family is not supportive of him being in college. I can hear his accent through his writing. He risks being shunned from his dad, but this is what he wants. He likes art, too.

Another young fellow is a validated gang member who just got out of jail for a laundry list of offenses. He wants to go to school because he's tired of being in jail and wants to "finally do the right thing." However he's feeling conflicted because his fellow gang members aren't supportive of his new choices, which he feels is his greatest challenge. Another student came back to school, moved by his newfound appreciation for life; recently he nearly lost his life in an accident the same time a family member received terminal diagnosis; "so just like that, we were both in different hospitals, fighting for our lives."

Lack of motivation? Low skills? From this point on, I vow to myself I will challenge the next person’s uninformed assumptions until I’m blue in the face.

Students come from all different directions in this class. Another student wants to learn to be more extroverted, like me. I said something that “really stuck” with her and she wants to learn to be comfortable in her own skin. Another student is trying to flirt with me, even after I told him during office hours that that’s inappropriate. Another student says she “loves to make people smile. It makes me happy.” I realize that her whole letter has actually had me smiling from the beginning. Even her obviously light pencil grip and organized penmanship radiate a sense of pleasantness. Another loves football. In fact, that is the only thing his paragraph-long letter is about.

The next class meeting when the students ask, of course, when they are going to get their papers back, I tell them that I am still reading them... and fully enjoying them, to boot. Some of the students look perplexed by this. I tell them that they are such a beautiful class, and that their letters are very inspiring to me. The students start to look very confused. I decide to not go into further detail, but I still want to gush; “I have been taking the time to write responses on everyone’s letters, but I want you all to know that I would like to keep our dialogues open once I had them back. I really look forward to getting to know each one of you throughout the semester.” They still seem kinda confused, but they also seem like they realize they just kinda need to accept it… they know by now that I’m kinda… well…. I wonder if anyone could ever really put their finger on that one.

Back to grading. I realize I am exhausted and hungry- I keep misspelling words in my responses and writing things differently than how I want my thoughts portrayed. I look at the clock and realize I have been reading and responding for more than three hours.

I put down my pen and lay back on my couch. I feel so lucky right now. So blessed and so lucky. I feel like I have just unwrapped nineteen of the most beautiful, amazing packages. What makes it even more amazing is that I think many of them are oblivious to what it is I see, and I hope to God that I’m not wearing any sorts of hazed honeymoon lenses that are making me naive in any kind of way. But I honestly don’t think I am. Perhaps this is why I teach. I want genuinely to lead them to what it is they want in life.

Before I put everything away for the afternoon, I think about how I hope that if they gain anything from their journeys in life, it’s that they realize that yes they can, and yes they are! I hope these feelings never fade.


*don't worry. Descriptions have been changed enough so that you wouldn't be able to identify the students*