charlobo-a-go-go

Last week I had the honor of working graduation with my colleagues, much as we do every single semester. 800 graduates, 6 guests each. You can do the math.

My role is somewhat limited to helping getting people robed and ready to rumble. I also get to line folks up, walk them through what they will be doing, and guide the occasional late comer to their seat. It happens often.

I get the honor of taking the tassle out of the eyes of the graduates. It’s a wrist flick I do that leaves me a little sore at the end of the day, but every single graduate who walks up on the stage gets the flick. A small role.  But one I love to do. Some are gracious and say thanks, and for the first time, someone wanted it in their face. Okay, player.

In the audience for one of the three ceremonies was a familiar face. I was finished walking through the first graduate what their paces would be, and I saw her. A nun. Blue. White headband. Her face registered with me immediately. Her hair was lighter than usual, but her smile was still there. I leaned over one pew and said, “Sister Anne Marie?” And as soon as the words left my mouth I knew I was wrong. “Sister Cristina,” she said.

My 8th grade teacher.

I snuck over to her pew between some columns and told her in gushing terms how I thought she was an amazing teacher. All the things I remembered, her putting crosses at the top of my papers. Her kind way. Her smile. Her patience with a smart ass kid from the other side of the tracks. Her guidance. Her peaceful way. I was in awe of her as a kid, and to an extent I still am. I thanked her profusely, and told her she was an inspiration to me as a teacher. Yes I was a smart ass, yes I often got in trouble, but I worked my ass off to be the best I could academically and I didn’t slack in that department. She always encouraged me to work hard. For her I did just that.

She noted my gown (I’m required to wear one for work these days), and asked me if I was going to get my doctorate. I told her I already had one. Almost 10 years now.

She said, “You certainly look like you’ve come a long way since then.”

I have.

I became a teacher largely because I have teaching in my blood…my family has generations of teacher. I hope I’m good enough to do it, and one day I hope someone finds me in the crowd somewhere and tells me Thanks. I guess that’s what’s makes teaching worth all the hard work, and that’s what makes investing even a few moments of the day to a kid can make the world of difference because in my life it certainly did.

I teach because I know there are kids out there who are hearing the wrong things - that they are not good enough. That they are in the wrong place. That they are a mistake. You think I’m playing? I teach because I can give those kids the time and energy and effort. And more often than not that’s all it takes. You can water a plant, but you gotta give it some sun to make it grow.

In the end I ran off to get my card in my office to give to her. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye because that’s the territory. Busy, running around, and so focused that it’s hard to remember all that you have to do in such a situation, but I’m so glad I had the chance to say thanks. I’m so glad I had the chance to have a wonderful teacher. It helped me to have a good template to follow when it became my turn.

Char