Life Without Connections is Not Living

Last semester I felt alienated at the front of the classroom. My students filed in, absorbed or deflected my knowledge-flinging, and then filed out. The occasional hand-raise would result in a student confirming or protesting an assignment. After a month or so I began to feel the rotting sensation that comes from lacking human contact. I felt like a moldy peach at the front of that classroom. An ineffectual, moldy peach.

Midway through the fall I remembered that the happiest I've been in a job was when I worked as a writing tutor at The Citadel. There was no grading, no paperwork to bring home or lessons to plan, I only had to meet with one freshman after another and guide them in their individual writing needs. Each appointment took an hour, which allowed us to fully explore the possibilities. But it went far beyond the writing assignment quickly.

I only worked with freshmen at The Citadel, who are known only as Knobs, and called by their last name. This is a part of the military system where they learn to excel in rank through leadership, but only after starting out at the "bottom". The transition they all were making was more heightened than the average college freshman, and so often their papers reflected this change. I read very many papers about boys' mothers -- something I never read from my civilian-school students! Discussing papers quickly turned to discussing their personal lives in this transition. Since my then-fiance was a graduate, I understood the lingo and organization at The Citadel, so they spoke openly to me about every situation they needed help with.

Soon I was a counselor, and it did actually help them become better writers. One student would come even without writing homework, simply to talk.

Thinking back to this, I decided to restructure my tactics this semester. I needed to be involved in my students' lives for my sake as much as theirs. The front-of-the-classroom chief used to be a model I aspired to, but it's so lonely up there. I had no idea to whom I was speaking, or whether my words were even heard. This semester I wanted to know my students' minds so that I could adapt each day to developing their particular needs in learning.

The first change I made was to arrange my tables into groups, so that there was no real "front of the class". There were four groups of tables around which my students sat facing each other. No one could so much as roll their eyes without another classmate being aware of it. Each group developed a personality, and inevitably brought each person out of their shells. Students worked together in their groups daily, and I could give short instructions at the beginning of class, then float from group to group with my individualized attention. It was an amazing way to break-down a classroom of 24 students!

The next change I made was to regularly email my students. They came to me with so many of their questions, then.

By the end of the semester I was not simply a teacher of writing. In fact, the writing became secondary again, just like it had at The Citadel. I helped two students seek counseling when their personal lives drove them to despair. I wrote references for two other students to receive jobs and funding. And at the end of the semester I got a baby gift from a young lady who wrote me a note telling me that I am "that professor" whom she will never forget.

My mind immediately went to Dr. Rahamut and the desire I felt to emulate her in my professional life. Her door was always open and she was always available. I could not be who I am without the people who gave freely of their time for me. Without the leaders who took time to know me, I would likely be a very selfish and morose individual. All I want to do in teaching is to equip my students with tools to excel in whatever they attempt, and often times their personal lives need to be addressed in order for the tools to make any sense to them.

It meant the world to me to get that card, because so often I can only hope that one day my students will sense an impact I made on their lives. It is not often that one can give feedback so quickly.

This makes me happy that I have been able to tell my mentors I love them.

From Charlie Wier, to Janet Rahamut, to Alan McClung I have been given a prime example of how to guide.

Now how do I get paid to do this, again?