UPDATED: Strategies to Avoid Getting Scammed

The scammers are devious. They are increasingly harnessing both technological and psychological weapons to trick people out of their money – especially vulnerable people like the elderly. 

I have written about scams before, and while the articles and advice in those posts are still relevant, the scammers are escalating their tactics and we need to add some more precautions to our anti-scammer protection system. 

For those who don’t want to read much, here are my anti-scamming suggestions (this is an extenion on the list I wrote here): 

Trust your gut: If you even have a slight inkling that the phone call, email, website, text, or other form of communication is a scam: STOP! We frequently have a little voice in the back of our minds that raises the issue, but we don’t pay attention: PAY ATTENTION! 

Just because they have some information about you, even something as private as your social security number, bank account number, credit or debit card number, address, or date of birth, don’t trust them! Scammers can get this information. Bad actors can access private and personal data. Don’t rationalize that, “this can’t be a scam because they have my…”

If the message is urgent, it is likely a scam. If the message is highly sensitive, it is probably a scam. If the message is emotional, it is likely a scam. If the message is shocking, it is likely a scam. Your grandchild is most likely not in danger. No government agency is coming after you. No one has hacked into your bank account. “You can’t tell anyone,” is a huge red flag! When the person on the phone or the email screams that the house is on fire and you must trust them to put it out, hang up and do the thing next on this list. 

Contact the agency or person in question the way you normally do! If the email or caller says they are from your bank, hang up and call your bank. If they say that there has been a car accident and your relative needs help, call that relative (and if you can’t reach them, call someone close to them whom you trust). As the photo shows, links can look like they are correct and lead you to the wrong website. If you have a browser bookmark for your brokerage account, use that link– never click on links in texts or emails! 

Don’t give ANYONE your private information. Period. Don’t confirm your private information. Period. Of course, if you call your doctor, banker, broker, or other trusted source, you can do that. However, if someone contacts you and claims to be from their office – or even sounds like them – nope! 

Fakes are easy to create! Scammers can spoof phone numbers, so don’t trust the caller ID. Spammers can fake people’s voices, so just because it sounds like that person doesn’t mean it is that person. Spammers make website addresses, links, emails, and phone numbers look like the real thing. That is why you must always use the contact information that you have used in the past and know 100% is, in fact, the real thing – not the link, email address, phone number, or other method that they are feeding you. 

If there is even a tiny chance you are on the phone with a scammer: hang up! Then contact the organization using your regular contact method. Pro tip: if you are on a cell phone call and turn it to airplane mode, the person on the other end will see a “call failed” message. To really sell it, do this in the middle of a sentence or word. 

Don’t use passwords, passcodes, PIN numbers, or other private unlocking strategies in public - EVER. Don’t unlock your phone at the bar. Go inside the bank and cover your PIN number with your hand at the ATM – or better yet, use a teller. Never use passwords on public wifi networks. Learn to use passcodes like your face, fingerprint, watch, or USB keys. 

Don’t do strangers favors: Lots of scammers take advantage of your good nature. They ask to use your credit card at the gas pump because they only have cash. They ask you to loan them money. They ask all sorts of things. The answer is no! While sometimes, they really are people in need: more often, they are scammers. Give to charities and social service agencies and call them when people are in need - if people approach you directly, be suspicious. 

If you have other strategies, send them to me and I will add them here (and credit you, if you are okay with that – I can also credit you with just a first name or initials). 

Here are a few articles to give you the flavor of what scammers are doing: 

“Lake Co. Resident Nearly Loses $20K In PayPal Scam”

“AARP sounding alarm on fraud, offering helpful resources to victims”

“10 Security Settings That Protect Your iPhone From Thieves”

“How to Avoid Pump Switching Scams at the Gas Station” 

“How to Protect Your Parents From Elder Fraud and Scams”

“How to Protect Your Finances From Identity Theft”

“This 'IRS Letter' Is a Scam”

“These Financial ‘Experts’ Got Scammed, so You Can Too (Really)”

UPDATE: 

Some dear friends replied and added the following:

Beware when the person texting you says they can’t or won’t answer a phone call from you because they are “driving”… it’s really because you would instantly recognize that they are not who you think you are texting. If you think about it, people who are driving would really prefer talking over texting as that would be safer!

Many scammers are from foreign countries and English is not their native language. Therefore, be aware that even the SLIGHTEST English grammar or syntax error should alert you that the person is a foreign scammer who has a high level but not perfect proficiency in speaking English.  Even a SINGLE WORD misused that would not be said that way by a native English speaker should be a huge red flag to you.

If a person asks you to pay for an item via Zelle be aware that, unlike a credit card payment, money sent by Zelle cannot be retracted or credited even if you later can verify it was sent to a scammer. Never use a phone number or email link sent by the person to make a Zelle payment, as your money is probably not going to the person you think it is.

If you are purchasing an item and the main message to you focuses on receiving the payment rather than the details of the item itself that should clue you into the fact that all they want is to get your money from you.

If you are communicating with someone via Facebook messenger and then switch to texting but they won’t talk out loud by phone call that’s a clue that they are trying to hide their true identity.

If the party refuses to take a check as payment and insists on using electronic payment via Zelle, Venmo, or PayPal that’s a clue that it’s a scammer, as the scammer wouldn’t be able to cash your check, especially if located in a foreign country,

If the person selling an item says you need to pay them because other people are also trying to buy the same item, be aware that it’s probably a lie and trick to make you pay sooner rather than later.

Try to buy items from established online retailers like Amazon, Wal-Mart, etc, and not from Facebook marketplace or unknown retailers.

If someone asks you to text back a Google phone code and you do they might create a Google Voice phone number that links to your phone, thus compromising your phone! 

Beware of scammers who say that they are checking that you are not the scammer! How ironic! 

Thank you to my friends for these strategies! 

To Retire or Not To Retire

Because I retired earlier than most, I have become a go-to guy on retirement for others. They ask about what I am doing in retirement (anything I like) and if I like it (I love it). What they are really asking is, should they retire? I can’t answer that question. I can provide some information about my retirement, but I am not sure how much that will help others make a very personal decision. 

I always tell them that my retirement date was pretty much set in 1986 when I started teaching. Of course, I had to choose to retire, but the basic structure of my retirement was built into my job. 

From the moment I started teaching, people were talking about retirement. Most of the teachers at my school were old enough to be my parents when I arrived. It took a few years before there were five or six of us under thirty! We would roll our eyes as these old fogies would go on and on about retirement. It was so far away and we were so tired of hearing about it. During my first decade of teaching, the State of Illinois had a retirement incentive and large numbers of teachers retired. 

A teacher only gets paid for nine or ten months of the year. My wife and I had to stretch our money over summers every year. I believe that summers, both having no classes and having to work within a narrow budget, were great preparation for retirement. We did this for more than thirty years, so by the time retirement rolled around, we knew the drill. 

We also had wonderful retirement mentors. Many of our friends who retired before helped prepare us. They played the role of big siblings and coached us through our final few years. I remember a wonderful drive with a retired teacher. She talked about how, now that she was retired, she was no longer a teacher. She had stopped coaching and her children were grown up, so she wasn’t a coach or a parent, either. Who was she? She asked questions that hadn’t even appeared on my radar. As she shared her experiences, she provided me (and my wife) with plenty to consider as we moved toward retirement. I am happy to help people think through these retirement questions. That may be the best service I can provide. 

Thinking creatively about retirement early is my biggest piece of advice. Diving into retirement without any preparation feels like a belly flop into an unheated pool. Boom and ouch! I made a list of “In retirement, I might…” on my phone.  As I talked to people and went about my day, I made notes about things that I might like to do if I had more time or flexibility. Some were very concrete: take guitar lessons. Some were more a reflection of my working life: have a slower morning. Some were things I could never do on a school schedule: visit my children on their birthdays. I still have this list and I still add to and remove from it. It is not a contract. It is a set of “maybes” and possibilities. 

Just as seniors in high school or college often dislike that, “What are you going to do next year?” question, people peppered me with the “What are your retirement plans?” question. I knew a teacher who answered, “Move my house one inch to the right.” I told people that I was going to take a gap year or two (or more). I gave myself permission to explore, experiment, and see what worked (or didn’t). I had promised myself that I was not going to make any long-term commitments for my first years of retirement. 

I did end up substitute teaching briefly and, although it was nice to be back in the classroom and with my friends, it reinforced to me that I was ready to try other things. I was glad I did it because it validated my desire to go in a new direction. 

Of course, retirement is a financial decision, too. Some of us are lucky enough to have pensions. Some of us have been great planners and have ample retirement savings. Some of us need to figure out how to make ends meet. I met with the great folks at the Illinois Teachers Retirement System, so I knew exactly what my resources would be. 

I am happy to talk about retirement. I am delighted to share my five years of retirement experience. I love being retired – and my circumstances may not apply to everyone. I recommend retirement. I like it. I think many others will like it, too. I fear that there are far too many people who will never get to experience it and that is unfortunate. Don’t write it off. Consider it. Plan for it. Imagine it. Find folks who will help you see what your retirement might be – I am happy to be one of them! 

Selling the Family Home

My parents just moved. They had lived there for almost fifty years; it was the house I moved into at ten years old and the place my wife and children know as the “family” home. This is a significant and challenging transition for my parents. 

People ask me if I will miss the house. I guess I will. However, I have mountains of photos and more video of events in that house than anyone could ever view. More than that, I have real memories of the people I love gathering at that house. Those memories aren’t staying in the house. I will still have them. 

It was time for my folks to have a home without stairs. It is a wonderful bonus to have a home where someone else takes care of the roof, basement, landscaping, snow removal, and all those homeowners’ tasks that age you. It is great that my parents are moving into a smaller home in a retirement community where they can, should they choose, take their meals in the community restaurant. They will finally be able to enjoy all the good parts of homeownership and turn over the burdens to someone else. 

But not me! This is another reason that I am not feeling sentimental about the loss of my childhood home. My parents’ move makes their lives much better – and it enhances mine as well. They are moving closer to me, but it is far more than that. They are moving into a community with plenty of support for them as they age. Many of the issues I have seen friends face with their parents: moving into a care facility, caregivers, living independently, loss of driving, and many others will be considerably softened by their choice of location. In a very real sense, their move is a gift to the entire family. It makes helping them age well easier, safer, and more reasonable. It preserves their independence and mine. 

I spent some time gathering photos of the “old” house. I waxed nostalgic about my grandparents and many others who are no longer with us and spent so much time there. I took lots of photos before and during the sale of the house and during the move itself. I have not been at that house in more than a week, but like lots of figures who are no longer part of our lives, that house will always be with us. 

Perhaps I am fooling myself. Perhaps, after the new owners move in, I will feel differently. I doubt it – because this was never about a house or a place. I didn’t go to “the house,” I went to be with my folks. Yes, the house was a great place to gather, but we have other places that will work just as well. The house was important because of the people who lived in it. I will enjoy the new house and my folks’ new community for those same reasons.  

I would be remiss if I didn’t also note how grateful I am for the lessons I am learning in this process. My parents moved in their mid-eighties. My wife and I have talked about making this move a decade earlier. My parents, in this and in many other ways, are modeling thoughtful and graceful aging. I am taking notes. It is my sincere wish that they will be our elder guides for many years to come. 

Twenty Years Ago: October 2003

Twenty years ago this month was a remarkable contrast to my present life. In 2003:

My mornings were hectic and intense. I took my elder child to orchestra at her middle school, ran to my school for a morning meeting with a student club or a parent, and then into my first class. It was a sprint. In retirement, one of the things I enjoy the most is a slow and civilized morning. 

I wrote, “Weekends are NOT a break at all,” and “Days off are never days off.” Now, every day is a weekend and day off! 

I kept my calendar, notes, and contacts on my Palm Pilot and was considering purchasing a Palm Pilot cellular phone! Today, I have all sorts of devices that make that old PDA look like an antique – but I still have it! 

I rode a kind of activity rollercoaster. I wrote that my day could go from highly productive and then, “grinds and collapses.” I was highly dependent on my parents and my wife’s aunt to help fill in childcare. Now, I am spending a lot of time helping my folks. My kids live far away and are highly independent. 

I had an ill and elderly dog that woke us up in the middle of the night, left surprises in the kitchen in the morning, and needed a syringe twice a day. While I no longer own a dog, we enjoy visits from and visits to our daughter’s dog. He is young and active and takes me on a walk – and my daughter takes care of the difficult dog duties.  

My list ran me: “I need to do an oneg and get birthday gifts and all that. A parent meeting this morning after I drop off Q. Field trip numbers today, StageWrite applications. A real bits and pieces day. Nibble, nibble, nibble, nibble.” Now, I use my daily list to give my day structure and I try to keep it short! 

My journal entries were often short. One even ended in midsentence! Now, I enjoy spending time reflecting on the day past and using my journal to help me focus on goals and tasks. My daily journal entries can be a little luxurious. 

Juggled time with family, friends, kids time with their friends, and date night time. Now, my time is flexible and far more balanced. I feel way more in control! 

My children were very young. They were losing teeth, growing physically, and figuring it all out. Now, they are working adults who help me and their grandparents. 

I worked with my children on homework and encouraged them to go beyond just the minimum requirements; “I tried not to hound Q into doing her homework. I played checkers with Jonah while she researched the lightbulb and filled in a math grid. She then read and practiced violin while Jonah set the table and I tried to kill the wasp that had somehow come into the house.” Now, I find I sound like my own grandmother and worry that my children might be working too hard and doing too much! 

“We went to Carmen’s last night and I was stuffed.” Oh, I long for the long-gone pizzeria of bygone days. I love stuffed pizza, but I fear I’ll never have another like Carmen’s! 

I was preparing to be a rabbi-substitute for a bat mitzvah! Our rabbi had just been hired and we had two bat mitzvahs that were scheduled before he was fully on board. So I attended mitzvahs to see how it was done. That role was expanded later: now, it has contracted and I am rarely a rabbi-understudy. 

I was wondering about the internet. When thinking about our school’s annual charity drive, I asked myself, “Can we use the internet to make money for school chest– perhaps send folks to a website?” Amazon wasn’t even a powerhouse yet and buying things on the web was sometimes risky. If only I had pursued this further! 

I was just beginning to see the possibilities of the internet as an extension of the classroom, “I got the idea for an essay tutorial online. I organized it and started it! It is no small project and I will work on it so it is ready for the Humanities kids’ next essay.” I experimented with how kids might use the web both in and out of class. Now, I have a former student running an AI-based educational website! 

I was grading during every free moment. I don’t miss that at all! 

Halloween was a really big deal involving a parade at school, parties, neighborhood gatherings, and of course, the dreaded house-to-house trick or treating. Now, Halloween is no more than greeting the handful of kids who appear at our door. 

While it is interesting to look back, I would not want to go back. These trips into my past journals make me appreciate how much young parents must handle each day. It also emphasizes that twenty years is a very very long time ago. Youth is not wasted on the young; I could not have done what I did today. 

1000 Days of Retirement: What Keeps You Busy?

Whatever I want. 

I thought about leaving it at that. Seriously, asking people what they are going to do when they retire or what they are doing in retirement is akin to asking what comes next to high school and college seniors. 

Before I retired, I would tell people that I was going to take a gap year and just figure things out. I would also joke that I was going to become a pirate. It is difficult to plan for retirement when one doesn’t know what it will look like. 

And now, 1000 days later, I am still figuring it out. Of the 1000 days since I retired, 720 of them have been during the COVID pandemic. At least once a week, someone says some variation on, “you retired at the right time.” Yes, I did. I deserve no credit for it. 

What have I been doing in retirement? A great deal! However, the big difference is that I am busy without being frenetic. I call it easy busy. One of the best things about retirement is that I get more control of the pace, and I have been trying to slow things down. When I list what I do on a particular day or week, it is much less than in my life when I was working.  That is one of the best things about retirement: it is reasonable.  

I love my slow mornings. As a high school teacher, I awoke at 5:15, did a half-hour workout, put my lunch together, took care of whatever home tasks had to be done in the morning, and got to school in the 7:15 range. Now, I can sleep a little later, although my body is still trained for early rising. My workout is now about an hour long. I take time making a far more interesting breakfast and read my morning feeds. 

After that, my activities fall into a few categories: 

I am getting to things I did not have time to do while I was working. We cleaned the basement during COVID, redecorated my daughter’s room into a new study and media room (which I call my ready room), and began a project of scanning and organizing old photos and documents. I have some plans to do some learning activities once we are less concerned about COVID. 

One of my worries about retirement was that I would become disconnected from my friends, especially those for whom my main connection was school. So I am very purposeful about sending emails, making lunch dates, and keeping in touch. When we were locked down, this turned into more phone and video calls as well as texts and emails. But with or without the pandemic, socializing has become a far greater part of my day-to-day life than it was while I was teaching. 

I am very active in my congregation. I planned our twentieth-anniversary celebration, run the fundraising, and teach in our Sunday school. I used to coordinate the oneg Shabbat food after Friday night services, but we haven’t done that since the pandemic began. However, I am still in charge of announcements. I am delighted to be singing in our choir again! 

I coordinate two science fiction book clubs. I volunteer with the planning of the World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago, which will be on Labor Day weekend downtown.  The pandemic made conventions more challenging. I attended a few virtual cons and have attended two in-person conventions in the last few months. 

I am spending more time and energy with my family. My children came home during the summer of 2020 and I helped with whatever they needed. I was walking my daughter’s dog, fixing meals, helping with technology, and helping my son move to Detroit and drive my daughter back to DC. Speaking of technology, I am the IT help desk for my folks and a few others. 

My family involvement includes more formal family structures. My wife, cousins and I are forming a family council. I have become the bookkeeper for our family's philanthropic activities. My involvement in our family business has increased far beyond what I anticipated. In fact, being more connected to the family business was a bit of a retirement surprise. 

I really really like to read. I have been reading RSS feeds, books, short stories, articles, non-fiction, and lots of other things. I have to be careful or I might read a day (or more) away! 

Before the pandemic, my wife and I would go to live theatre regularly as well. We love to travel and planning our trips took lots of time and energy. These are slowly returning. We have seen some plays at the high school. We went on a trip to California and I am planning trips to be with our kids. The more time I spend on travel planning, the more traveling we can do! 

Oh, yeah, and I grew a beard. 

Yet, when someone asks, “what keeps you busy,” I am at a loss to provide what I think would be a satisfying answer. Now I can just tell them to read this! 

Reunion Gratitude and Growing Up: A Reflection

Thomas Wolfe wrote that you can’t go home again. That is a good thing. Recently, I gathered with many of my college theatre classmates. I didn’t go to the university events. I didn’t go to a football game or tailgate or anything like that. I went to a small party at a classmate’s home as I have done every five or so years. There were about thirty or forty theatre alumni there. It was better than going back to our college home, thirty-five years ago. 

I chaired two of my high school reunions. I like reunions. Yet, there is something very special and different about this particular reunion and these people. We competed with each other in college. We may have continued that at our early reunions, but I don’t remember that. 

What I do know is, for me, that need to compete is gone. I look at my classmates and marvel and celebrate their outstanding work, spaning theatre and many other fields. I delight in their company in a way I did not in college. I appreciate them like I never could have imagined when we were in school years ago. Some of the folks who came were people with whom I spent a great deal of time. Some I knew in passing, and now I wish I had spent more time with them. 

Like my other reunions, some of my closest friends were unable to attend. None of the people present were at my wedding or my children’s mitzvahs. In other reunions, that might have been awkward or disappointing. That was not the case at all; it was an ideal chance to catch up, renew relationships, and celebrate.

I feel so grateful and fortunate to have second and third and fourth chances to meet these people. I am so grateful to the committee that worked hard to preserve our bond. Their work has allowed me to see so much more than a “reunion” version of our college selves. Each time we gather, I get a better glimpse of the more complex and real people we have become. 

At nineteen and twenty, I couldn’t get past myself. I was stuck and confused and struggling. I still am, but in my fifties the challenges are different. I am enjoying the confusion, choosing the struggle, and working hard to get out of myself and out of my own (and others) way. That was not true thirty-five years ago. Now, I have an opportunity to go beyond my college inadequacies, to present myself as I am now. To laugh at and, yes, even apologize for the sins of my college past. 

We hear about coming to terms with the past. We talk about forgiveness and putting the past in its place. At my reunion, I got to complement the past. I got to reconnect with my classmates, some of whom I have gotten to know far better in the years since college. And I appreciate them more each time I see them. 

This reunion made me long to see these folks again. I see many on Facebook and that whets my appetite. It enables me to see my classmates more fully and feel at least a little connected.

Everyone was not present. There were many people who were missed, talked about, or joined us via video call. While many of us have attended many of these reunions, it is wonderful when faraway faces are able to join us. When they are not, they are sincerely missed. These evenings are punctuated with the question, “What is happening with…?” 

I was not in love with everyone from my theatre program in college. However, that is meaningless now. Our relationship is now about a past we are rewriting, revising, revisiting, and renewing. 

College was never this good. Now it is. 

Our Town and Our Old Videos: Glimpses into the Past

My first theatre production at Deerfield High School was Our Town. I did it because we had no money and it would include a large number of students. Recently, I have been looking at old videos and photos from my first decade of teaching. They remind me of Our Town.

A few years ago, Deerfield produced Our Town again. I cried my way through it. Similarly, I watched myself about thirty years ago on these videos. I felt like Emily looking at my very distant life.

I found the play and the videos frighteningly familiar. It happens each time I watch shows I have done, and I am surprised each time. The production is still inside me. The moments, lines, and nuances of the script don’t go away. They lie dormant, even for decades. So do the feelings I had for the people with whom I was working. 

I found, as I watched the videos and show, that I saw more than what was in front of me. I remembered the students from thirty-some years ago and saw them then and now. Thanks to the blessing of Facebook, I am still in touch with many of them.

As Emily returns to her birthday, I was returning to my own Deerfield Grover’s Corners. I didn’t need to die to relive my past. But, like Emily, I was painfully aware of how little I saw then.

During the last years of my career as a teacher, I tried to savor the moments.  Since my own children are growing up and no longer at home, the passage of time feels very real. I savor each phone call, text, and video chat.

When Emily sees her parents young and beautiful, I am filled with gratitude and fear. My parents are aging. They are doing it well, but again I am keenly aware of time. My wife’s parents are gone and, through her, I have a second-hand taste of that loss. And my students are aging, too. Their children were in my classroom.

Some of my former students have died. I can’t get over those losses. When one of those students appeared on one of the videos, it was a jarring and delightful moment. I wish I could go back and share with him what I know now. To paraphrase Mrs. Gibbs from Our Town, I was a blind person.

I watch the videos with wet eyes and wonder: Can we be the people the Stage Manager says don’t exist? Can we cherish and see each other every – every minute? Can we put the minutia and administrivia in its place and hold each other the way Emily tries to as she relives her birthday morning? I fully understand why she can’t go on with it. I had to stop the video a few times because the view became too blurry. It must have been decay from the old VHS tapes.

We do walk through the world in the dark. We don’t see each other. We take each other for granted and forget the miracles we make and live daily. The least important day is important enough.

As I reflect on my time as a teacher, as I review the old videos and memories, I keep coming back to Our Town. I am reminded of those years long ago, and the wonderful people whom I miss. That is the hard part of retirement: missing the wonderful people.

But I am so grateful to have spent time with them – and to have these memories.

Name Blame

It is completely my fault. My memory is not what I wish it would be. I would like to have every student’s name at the tip of my mind. When I bump into a former student or see a student from a few years ago in the hall, I want to be able to call them by the correct name immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen all the time. I used to be proud of how often I could get students’ names right. Now, I am starting to struggle. I usually remember the student – or parent or classmate or neighbor – but my mouth doesn’t always keep pace with my memory. I know the person, but the name lags behind.

To make it worse, if I mixed up two students’ names when they were in class, that confusion sticks forever. The mix up may have nothing to do with looks. If I was not able to cure myself of saying Sarah when I met Carrie or saying Carrie when I meant Sarah when we shared class, I am going to take this bad habit with me.

And I don’t think that Sarah IS Carrie! I know the difference! This is not about knowing the person; this is about slipping and calling them the wrong name. I often know that I have blown it immediately. My memory is late.

There were two boys in one of my classes last year and I worked hard to not mix them up. But in the hall a few weeks ago, I blew it. Later, the one whose name I used (incorrectly) said to me, “I heard you called Brett my name.” Yup! I did! I knew it wasn’t you. I can tell you and Brett apart. It wasn’t that I get the two of you confused, I had a memory glitch!

Unfortunately, the problem is getting worse. The more names in my head, the more likely I am going to mess them up. The other night, I went to a restaurant and a recent graduate was there. I couldn’t remember her name. I was only moderately consoled that my wife couldn’t remember her name either. You guessed it; I remembered her name moment she left.

Maybe this is just a slowing down of mental agility. As I am getting older, I am struggling to get the name from my brain to my tongue fast enough. Maybe it is a volume problem. I have taught several thousand students and met even more parents. Add my own classmates and the numbers are staggering.

Which is why I am so grateful for Facebook and Instagram. Former students, parents, and classmates with whom I am connected via social media help me get ready for these meetings. Of course, I am not friends with current students, but once they are out of my current class, I could use the help. I have about 140 students in class right now, but I have more than 300 former students roaming the halls! Keeping all that in my head is task enough!

I have thirty-two yearbooks on my shelf at home and every so often I use them. I went to a gathering and caught a glimpse of a former student. I knew what class he was in. I remembered his senior project. I recalled the room in which we studied together. I just couldn’t come up with his name! I went back to the yearbook and found him instantly. In fact, I had his first name before I had his photograph. I was just a day late.  

I apologize. I blush! I hate getting names wrong! I wish I had a big yearbook of just my people. Perhaps I should rehearse and review names on a daily basis. Would that be enough to keep my old mind in shape?

Excuses aside, I am coming to terms with saying, “You are going to have to help me with your name.” I am so grateful for the reconnections that start with, “I’m so-in-so.” Of course, you are. The blame is mine. Nonetheless, I am so glad to see you!

My Former Students Turn Fifty

I started teaching in the spring of 1986 at a junior high school in Evanston. At the same time, I was hired at Deerfield High School and I began that fall. I had just turned twenty-two years old when school started. This year and next, the seniors from my first year at DHS turn fifty years old. 

Yes, you read that correctly; my eldest former students are fifty. It is amazing that they have not only caught up to me but now are several years older than I am. Time is relative.

I was the youngest member of the DHS faculty for my first three years. There were only about seven of us under the age of thirty! Slowly, staff members my age arrived and by the early nineties, I was dating a DHS counselor and we had colleagues who were at the same stage of life.

Then one of my former students was hired at DHS. Then another. Then some more. They were not that much younger than me, and we were hiring a lot of people who had recently graduated from college. I had plenty of former students who were out in the working world and pretending to be adults. I was doing the same thing.

I got married. We had kids. My former students did the same thing and invited me along for the ride! Right after college, I ended up going to many of my friends’ weddings. For a while, I had frequent renter points at a local tuxedo shop. Just as that wave of weddings slowed down, my former students picked up the slack and I attended their weddings.

They were always one stage of life behind me. Funny how that works.

Remember, this was before Facebook or any other digital way to stay in touch. They would call me on the telephone (which was on the wall). I would see them when they visited their parents in town or had just moved into their first house.

In 2008, things changed. After the DHS welcome session with my incoming daughter’s counselor, a woman approached me and told me I had been her teacher. Her son was also starting Deerfield High School. Oh, no, my second-generation students had arrived in the building.

But they had not arrived in my classroom. In the next few years, half a dozen of my former students’ children became my hallway friends. Seeing their parents at Open House night was like traveling in time.

Meanwhile, I attended some fortieth and forty-fifth birthday parties, a few more weddings, and other events that made these ex-teenagers feel very grown up!

As I met with a student a few years ago, we realized that his stepmother was a former student of mine. Last year, a former students’ son was in the same class that his mother and I had shared many years ago. This year, I have many more. There is no denying it: my former students are old.

I bump into former students everywhere, but now I am as likely to see them at school functions as anywhere else. I have a confession: I love it. I love seeing them all grown up. I love hearing about their lives. And there is something very special about learning with their children.

Yes, sometimes I mangle their names. I am always grateful for a reunion that comes with a reintroduction. More often than not, I recognize my former students and remember their first names. They usually recognize me. This always surprises me since they are older than I am now.

And now the class of 1987 approaches fifty. The class of 1988 will do the same thing soon. Two years later, the class with whom I entered DHS will hit the half-century mark.

Sometime, I think we will all finally realize that we’re all the same age now.

Your Behavior in High School Matters: The Past is Never Really Past

This week’s Supreme Court hearings are appropriately the subject of a great deal of discussion. They should be. The issues are weighty and important. One of the smaller lessons to take from this event is that what happens in high school does not stay in high school. What happens in college does not get forgotten.

Whether it is “boys will be boys” or “the best years of your life” or “you only live once” or any other rationalization for problematic choices – or worse – being young does not give you a free pass.

It should not.

I am not the person I was in high school or college, and I am happy about that. It is my strong belief that, as people age, they get better. However, that doesn’t mean that high schoolers’ decisions are without weight or should be casually excused.

Parents are concerned about academic behavior and place great importance on them. I have heard ad nauseam that a single B in a class could be a life sentence. Not getting into a college, earning a poor test score, or being closed out of a course are often viewed as life-altering.

There are many other choices that are life-altering. Sometimes, these choices are the means of discovering and creating our senses of self. Some choices reveal ourselves. This process of navigating decision-making is critical to the process of becoming adult. 

I have written about the car crash on October 13. While such events are many feel extreme, they are no more extreme than what happened to Dr. Ford. Attempts to minimize the power of teenage misbehavior may be an attempt to excuse or explain away its weight. This fails to recognize that, once we have some degree of independence, we must accept some degree of responsibility.

When I was in high school, very few people were carrying cameras all the time. Certainly, the photographic records of my classmate’s deeds and misdeeds were not posted publically. Social media makes this lesson all the more critical. What if Brett Kavanagh’s high school experience was chronicled by more than his calendar and yearbook?

I want my students to hear clearly: what you do today affects your future and the future of people around you, some of whom you may not even know. No one has a “get out of responsibility free card.” Or no one should.

I want my students to understand that the choices they make today, for better or for worse, will ride with (and within) them forever. What they choose to do about those choices, how they deal with them, confront them, or address them is a critical test of their maturity.

I want my students to be able to recognize problematic behavior in themselves and others and deal with it in a healthy way. When they make mistakes, I want them to learn to own those errors, and then recognize and repair what they have done to the fullest degree possible – and to work to make sure such things do not happen again to them or anyone else.

Teenage drug use, pregnancy, sexual assault, and other adolescent issues are not minor because those doing them are young. We often debate if individuals under eighteen should be “charged as adults.” When the crime is serious, we often argue that youthfulness does not save them from adult accountability. It certainly doesn’t save those whom they have hurt.

Hopefully, a small positive effect of the Brett Kavanaugh hearings is that it helps kids recognize their power and responsibility. I hope they hear the message the past is never really past. The choices we make  - and how we grow up and deal with them – become the substance of ourselves. 

They Grow Up

This summer, I have been bumping into former students as I move throughout the community. Some just graduated, some I see occasionally, but many have been away from Deerfield for a long time. I’ve been in touch with some here and there, and some I haven’t spoken to since graduation. They are doing well –and doing good. They are pursuing their passions. I cannot overstate how wonderful it is to see them.

I wonder and worry about my former (and current) students. These past few weeks several of my students have been married or engaged. I even attended a former student’s wedding and celebrated with her family and reconnected with some of her classmates! Another former student had a baby. Many graduated from college. With each photo, Facebook post, or word on the street, I am reminded of students I have not seen since they left DHS. That’s when I start thinking, “Whatever happened to...” or “How is that student” or “I worried so much about him.”

On another summer walk, I listened to a radio interview with one of my former students. He is an orthodox rabbi, and the interviewer baited him several times with questions that were clearly designed to get fiery answers. He dealt with them deftly and diplomatically. His discussion was thoughtful and soulful. I was kvelling the entire walk!  I would never have guessed, when we shared Sophomore English more than twenty years ago, that this would be his path!  

Not all stories are good ones. I have struggled with students whose challenges continued well beyond their graduations. There have been students whose stories did not have happy endings. I hope these are the exceptions.

There is no escaping loss and disappointment. There are unexpected plans, health issues, and problems that seem insurmountable. There are jobs that don’t work, scary situations, and worse. I wish I could swoop in and protect them from the pain and tragedy, but I couldn’t do that when we shared class, and I cannot do it now. They are independent adults who don’t need (or want) their former teacher to be their savior. They never did. I can be their supporter and cheerleader.

I believe that the seeds of my students' adult selves are visible in high school. However, sometimes they are just tiny buds just beginning to show themselves. Sometimes they are vines up the wall, and sometimes I wonder if they are weeds! I have learned to water all of them. I know that I cannot predict the future and I don’t bother trying.

I cannot overstate my delight when I see my former students. My eldest are in their mid-forties, and my youngest start college in the fall. I will carry them with me forever. My classes get bigger and bigger because the shadows of my former students are always present. I see them in the halls in the faces of my current kids.  I am reminded of them as I pass landmarks, discuss texts, and go to activities. It helps me to not miss them so much.

Thank you! Thank you for sharing your grown-up selves with me! Thank you for stopping and saying, “hello.”  Thank you for letting me see the wonderful people you have turned out to be.

Don't Grow Up

My college roommate called me to the hospital when his first child was born. I brought sandwiches and supplies and placed them in the room as he dressed me in a protective gown. When he handed his newborn son to me, I balked, “No! I’ll break him!” He smiled and I held my first baby.

Later, after his son was back in the nursery and his wife was getting some needed sleep, we looked through at the tiny baby on the other side of the window and my friend whispered, “Grow up!”

Yesterday, I watched my eighteen-year-old son leave the house on the way to his summer job and, after the door closed and we’d said, “I love you, see you this evening,” I whispered, “Don’t grow up!”

Of course, I want my child to become an independent adult. Of course, I want him to go to college and experience those wonderful lessons that he needs to become the person all of us want him to become. I just don’t want him to leave. I don’t want to let go of our time as parent and child.

Part of this is probably because he is the last child leaving the nest. Part of this may be that I teach teenagers and I have to let go a lot. I let go every year, but my classroom fills again. My home will not fill again.

So we both stand on the brink of a different kind of adulthood. He is ready to step off that cliff and fly. I am getting ready to watch because I know I don’t need to push. I do need to hold on to something because I will not fly if I follow and I know that I shouldn’t.

I want to pour his ear full of advice and reminders before he gets behind the wheel of my old minivan and drives away. Those are my neuroses, not his. I say them to myself. In my weaker moments, I say them to him and earn the eye rolls and choruses of, “I know, Dad!”

This past week, we shared college orientation. Appropriately, for many of the sessions, parents and their students were separated. The university stressed setting boundaries, allowing students to struggle, and assisting them in assisting themselves. I could have given those speeches.

That doesn’t change the way I feel this morning. I take lots of pictures. I have become nostalgic about times that were harried, hurried, and hard. But my children were children then. I was in charge and felt a semblance of control.

I am not in control anymore and that is a scary thing. As a teacher, I like being in control. As a parent, it makes me feel safe. That is an illusion, my rational self tells me. My children are ready to have full control. I know this.

Control is the way I fend off the worry. If I am in charge, then my child stays in my arms or behind the glass. Yet he must leave the comfort of the nursery and make his way into the world, where anything can happen.

And anything will happen. He will have scrapes, big and small. I will, too. He must grow up and walk out of that door. I must remain and watch. I will get used it. It will take a while. My friends tell me that I will come to like it.

Not yet.