Thank you letters

Today was the official last day of my class and pleasantly, to my surprise, many of my students gave me thank you letters! First and foremost, you must know that I am such a sucker for thankfulness in any form. But there are few things that warm my soul and keep my tear ducts in business more than unexpected hand written expressions of heartfelt gratitude, delivered with the intention of being read privately.

My heart has its own language to describe what it feels like to read thank you notes. Right now, though, it sings an especially sweet song, as lately I have been feeling pretty crummy in various areas of my life. These letters were just the broom I needed to sweep those crumbs away. Reading my students’ words of appreciation for what they say I brought to them over the semester felt as if God himself was winking at me and whispering, “you’re doin’ fine, kiddo.”

I was taken aback by the heartfelt quality and the length of the letters. They could have just bought a card and written "thanks for the semester," but they went beyond that. I was genuinely inspired by the caliber of the reasons behind every “thank you,” awestruck by the thoughtfulness of the words, and moved by the effort and vulnerability apparent within the lines of each letter. I couldn’t help but to feel as if some of the students had written to invite me to continue in their life stories at the closing of this semester. (Though honestly, I also couldn't help but to wonder why they couldn't have put this much effort into any of the essay exams I had assigned.) My gut tells me that it meant just as much to the students to write these thank yous as it does for me to read them. I am thoroughly touched and tickled.

One of the letters made me smile, one made me cry, and one made me laugh out loud. The last letter I read was probably the most unique “thank you” I’ve ever received before. I loved it. It was written by a student I gave a "second chance" to 3/4 of the way through the semester when he realized stupid choices were leading him back to jail, earning him a shameful 13.2% in my class, and taking him away from the goals he swore to me he wanted. His letter was so “him” in every way, and due to the relationship we’ve developed over the last 16 weeks, I’m dead confident that the words he gave me are his equivalent to a bouquet of 10,000 friendly roses. The novelty of his note compels me to share part of the final paragraph:

“If anyone ever harasses you give me a call, I’ll come kick their ass, I got your back. I don’t look like a fighter but I can fight really well and I got a lot of heart.”

Based on the life experiences he’s shared with me, he lives assuming that everyone’s life is full of battles and struggles to be fought, and he is a man who is true to his word and truer to his pack. He closes the letter with his phone number, “sincerely, your best student,” and then his full name, signed in his best cursive. I smile at “your best student” because I know he is being as sarcastic as he is serious. Even though he barely passed my class, he’s told me before he’s learned some lessons he's really needed to learn. Who knows how many times he will need to "re-learn" these lessons, but at least for now, he knows. He sees. He realizes.

"Kicking someone's ass for me might get me fired and put you back in jail. Do you really think I want either one of those" I imagine myself responding with a wink. I imagine him laughing along with me, though looking kind of embarrassed, and also obviously feeling a little confused. I love teaching.

In this moment, I am grateful.