Your cart is currently empty!
As Graduation Season Approaches, A Teacher Learns to Let Go
With graduation season just around the corner, I find myself reflecting on the journey of one remarkable student. Let’s call her Mia. I remember when Mia was selecting her final semester classes, visibly relieved when I reassured her she could take a lighter load. She confided in me that all she could focus on was working as much as possible to save up to live independently after graduation. Juggling three part-time jobs, she was determined not to move back in with her parents, who were both remarried. Her dad had lost his job and was living in a cramped apartment, while her mom was busy raising younger kids and made it clear that Mia wouldn’t be welcome back home. “I’m just afraid I won’t have any place to live,” she admitted, and my heart ached for her.
Mia was a first-generation college student at our state college, which attracts many like her—those eager to succeed but burdened with worries about finances and academic readiness. Coming from a rural school district that lacked resources, she arrived at college without even knowing how to send an email. Yet, her love for learning and her hardworking nature helped her catch up to her more privileged peers. She often expressed gratitude whenever I did something in class that resonated with her.
Shared Experiences
Over the years, our conversations allowed us to share pieces of our lives. When I learned about Mia’s talent for singing, I connected it to my daughter’s budding interest in music. I was thrilled when my daughter landed a role in a local musical and shared my joy with Mia. She recounted how excited she was to receive her first significant part in a high school production, despite her mother initially dismissing her talent. “She didn’t even know I could sing,” Mia told me, but on opening night, she spotted her mom in the audience, tears streaming down her face.
I couldn’t fathom not knowing whether my own daughter could sing; she’s always belting out show tunes. Mia might not have showcased her talent as openly, but I sensed something deeper. While many parents hover over their kids, her parents were preoccupied with their own struggles and often overlooked her special abilities. In that moment, I felt a strong desire to offer her the care she deserved, imagining her as a temporary big sister to my daughter, who is an only child. Yet, I knew this thought went far beyond my role as a professor. I was already guiding her towards a degree, which, despite ongoing debates about student debt, remains crucial for her future.
I told Mia how wonderful she was and expressed my confidence in her ability to succeed, given her hard work and caring nature. “Teaching you is a gift,” I said, fighting back tears as I realized how much I would miss her.
Reflections on Farewells
As commencement day approaches, I think about Mia and countless other students who have touched my life over the years. Saying goodbye never gets easier, and if anything, my connections to my students feel more profound with time. I’ve witnessed them deal with breakups, career anxieties, and personal struggles no young adult should have to face. Yet, I am immensely proud of the incredible people they’ve become. Many have excelled, winning awards and gaining acceptance into prestigious graduate programs. I’ve seen them evolve from timid teens into confident, purpose-driven journalists, and it gives me hope for the future of the profession.
I joke about my feelings, saying, “I might only have one child, but I have all these students.” It’s a complicated metaphor; I can’t be a mother to this large group of young adults who are perpetually 18 to 22. I don’t grade them as mothers do, which is a relief. The reality is, the student who came to me with her housing concerns didn’t need another mom. She was strong enough to make it on her own. Just before graduation, her mom surprised her by inviting her back home until she found a job, and by summer’s end, Mia had landed a position as a flight attendant. While it’s not the typical career path for a journalism graduate, I’m thrilled for her, especially when I see her Facebook posts showcasing her adventures and moments with her mom.
The Bittersweet Nature of Goodbyes
Most real mothers wouldn’t tolerate the abrupt goodbyes that come with graduation. At our college, we hold department receptions for graduates and their families after the ceremony, complete with cake decorated in school colors. But rarely does anyone show up; everyone rushes to pack up and leave town. The faculty ends up in a small circle, munching on brightly colored cake. I try not to take it personally, reminding myself that there’s no better farewell than cheering my exuberant students as they walk across the stage to receive their diplomas.
In today’s world, the value of a college education is often questioned. Websites like Payscale allow families to compare colleges based on graduates’ earning potential. However, I believe these metrics don’t capture the emotional connections that can form between professors and students. For me, that value is immeasurable, and I hope my students feel the same.
Conclusion
In summary, as graduation season approaches, I reflect on the bonds formed with my students and the bittersweet nature of their departure. Each farewell is a reminder of their growth and the profound impact they have made on my life.