I ran into a former student at the Whole Foods grocery market today. He was working in the vitamins and supplements, and I asked him to help me find something. He handed me the two items I needed and then turned around and asked if I was a teacher or something. I did what I always do when a person of a certain age asks me that question, I thanked my lucky stars for his name tag. "Adam," I said, and then pulled his last name from the dim recesses of my memory, grateful again, this time that my brain just happens to work like that. I forget a lot of things, but so far, I've never forgotten anyone from school. Sometimes I don't recognize them right away-- kids change a lot after sixth grade-- but I always remember them. The same thing could not be said for Adam. His face was so confused, that at first, I was worried I had the wrong name. "Am I mistaken?" I asked him.
"No, but how do you know me? What did you teach me?" Now it was my turn to be puzzled. Hadn't he initiated this conversation with me? But I told him, and he nodded. "You seemed a lot taller when I was in sixth grade," he said.
"But otherwise, I look exactly the same, right?" I teased him.
"To tell you the truth," he said, "I barely remember you." He furrowed his brow before he went on. "I think it was your voice or your mannerisms or something that seemed familiar." My chagrin, as mild as it was, clearly registered, because he hurried to continue, "I don't remember anything about sixth grade," as if that were a little better.
He only confirmed something that a colleague and I were talking about just the other day. We pour our hearts into these kids, worry about their educational experience every day and in every class, and in the end, most of them don't even have any conscious memory of it. "Think about," I'd said to her, "What do you remember from sixth grade?" She shrugged in agreement.
I told Adam as much, too, and again his eyebrows showed that he was thinking about it. "Maybe it's like bricks in a building," he said. "You can't see all of them, but they're important. I think you definitely helped make me who I am today, even if we're not sure how."
Well, I did teach him simile.
Wow. I'd say that's an interesting pay-off, even if it isn't you personally he remembers at least he acknowledge you laying a brick or two in his wall.
ReplyDeleteI think about this all the time--why am I doing this, what will they carry away. A lot of days, I have to say: nothing. Not even a brick, I'd say.
My husband and I play this game called Well, We Don't Work There. It's when the garbage truck rolls by and I say, we could spend all day on our rears, extending mechanical arms to lift up smelly cans. Well, my husband says, We Don't Work There.
I do this game to remind myself that although I'm mostly invisible, it's not a bad job as jobs go. That works on most days.
I still like his answer about the bricks. I'm going to think about that one.
Elizabeth
http://peninkpaper.blogspot.com/
Shared this with the family - we all loved it, the kids included. Brings to mind my favorite song - "...all we are is just another brick in the wall." Thank you Pink Floyd!
ReplyDelete