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. 

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.

Alumni Gifts

Last week, three Deerfield High School graduates dropped by school. They told me about their lives since we had last met, their summer and future plans, and reminisced about their time at DHS. They made my day – and my week. They gave me a gift for which I am so very grateful: a relationship after they have left my classroom and the school.

I have taught several thousand students in my many years at Deerfield. A vast majority of them say, “hello” in the hall after our class ends. Some I am able to catch for a handshake or a hug at graduation. Most vanish. What they don’t realize is how present they are for me.

I think about my former students a great deal. While they have moved on, I am still in the same place where we learned together. There are reminders of them everywhere and every day.  I pass their lockers and teach in the rooms where we learned together. And while I am curious about what has become of them, I accept that this is the way it works for teachers and students. Our relationship has a shelf life, and when it is over, most of the time, it ends.

Yet, when a student chooses to stay in touch after graduation, it is a gift beyond measure. For years, this meant students who would visit, often before or after winter break or as the school year was ending. It meant students who would send college graduation announcements, notes, or would suggest going out to coffee or lunch. I treasure these visits and moments.

Now, students have greater choice about how to stay in touch. Thanks to email and Facebook, staying in contact can be as involved as they want –and that is perfect and wonderful! Now, there are lots of degrees of contact.

This past month, I was treated with graduation pictures from colleges all over the world. I heard about former students getting jobs, getting married, having babies, traveling, and figuring out their futures. We didn’t need to meet, although several of us did.

Some of the students with whom I am in touch never shared class with me. Maybe we were in a club or perhaps spent time together in the resource center. Maybe we found each other in the hallways. Our time together at DHS, no matter what that time looked like, is chapter one. With most students, I only get chapter one.

Chapter two is beautiful. It has no homework and no grades. No attendance is taken, and no rules can be broken. This doesn’t mean it is perfect. Former students have struggled and needed help. We have worked on graduate school applications and found job contacts. Former students have come to my assistance, too – they have even helped me teach my current students!

Some alumni are now more my friends than my former students. I cannot imagine a student giving me a gift greater than a friendship that started in the classroom.

In the next few weeks, I will speak at two middle school graduations. The message I will deliver to the newly minted high school students is that, when they come to Deerfield High School, they are joining a family. Although grades, activities, and classes are important, the real foundation of everything that happens in school is the relationships they will form.

I have wonderful relationships with my colleagues. This is critical to my being able to do my job well. The relationships with students, especially after they leave the building, is a precious gift for which I am appreciative every time I see their posts on Facebook, when they call or email, or as we chat around town.

As I swing back into graduation season, my joy is renewed and my sadness softened by the community of alumni who remind me, even after they leave our classroom and school, that they are okay, still learning, and that they have saved a corner of their lives for their former teacher from which I can see their futures.

Staying In Touch

How do you stay in touch with people whom you don’t see regularly? Facebook is a nice way to keep lines of communication open, but, most of the time, it is lacks the personal touch. I find that, even when I am deliberate about phone calls, I don’t reach the person more often than I do. Keeping in touch is difficult.

Even in the day of electronic communication, ubiquitous cell phones, and video chats, I struggle to stay in touch with people who aren’t on my “route”  - even people I dearly love and with whom I feel very close.

Sunday dinners with my folks, holidays and celebrations, school events, and kids’ events pull in many people. If we share an activity or organization, we have a point of contact. If none of these structures are in place, how do we keep a friendship that once had them from fading?

I think the answer is: most of the time we don’t.

My family moved during the summer between fourth and fifth grade. We moved only a few miles north, but it might as well have been a thousand. I had no real means to get to my friends in my old neighborhood. I don’t remember if I telephoned much. I was certainly very lonely in my new neighborhood for a while. It was as if I had closed that door. I wasn’t there any more. My parents neither encouraged nor discouraged my connection to my “old” friends, and it was a case of “out of sight, out of mind,” even when there wasn’t much on my mind.

As a teacher, people I spend a significant amount of time with move out of my life on a regular basis. Each year, a hundred or so former students cross the stage, grab a diploma, and I never see them again. Thanks to Facebook, I get little glimpses into a few, but even these often remain only digital friends.

There are a few special students who become real friends. Not just former students or occasional visitors, but friends in the real sense of the word. They are very special rare gifts. They are one of the greatest perks of being a teacher. It is my experience that the students who fall into this category must make a significant conscious effort to remain in touch – and I must do the same with them. It is a partnership. Although sometimes, I may not see these former students for months or even years, their reappearances are regular and dependable. There are a few I have lunch with during the summer and even more who I see every year or three. There are some who make regular treks back to school and some who make a point to touch base with me on holidays or birthdays. I am so grateful for this kind of keeping in contact.

And that is the key. That is what staying in touch is all about; it is a commitment to contact; it is like marriage, a promise to maintain the bond. Sometimes the bond isn’t very strong, but it is still present. Sometimes, I don’t feel the bond until it appears.

Staying in touch, even in the digital age, is difficult. It is a statement of value: I want to keep you in my life. I want to hear your voice and see your face, not just your updates and photos.

There are lots of big and small ways to keep in touch: a postcard from a trip, a call on a birthday, an unexpected email, a carefully planned visit, a quick coffee, or a message, “just to say hi.” When these people appear, it makes my day. It reminds me of that, no matter how busy I am or how long my to-do list, the people are what make it all worth while. It may be difficult, but keeping in touch is worth the effort! Now if I could just do it! 

Ageless Apples

A student brought me an apple on my first day at Deerfield High School. It was not just any student. It was a senior varsity football player in my Beginning Acting class. I was twenty-two years old and the youngest teacher in the building. This young man was not only physically bigger than me, he was confident and comfortable. I was new and nervous.

I saved that apple. It sat on my desk and later I put it in a bell jar. I still have it.

Last week, I was at a restaurant with friends and that student stepped out of a booth. He looked at me and I looked at him. It was a wonderful moment. I remembered his name and he began to talk about our class. He remembered far more than I did. I was amazed. I was delighted. It was a marvelous moment and a beautiful gift.

Here we were, twenty-seven years later, talking about our experience together. We are only four years apart in age. His family was with him and much of mine was there. He wants visit his old high school and sit in on my theatre class. I hope he does.

I floated back to my table after our conversation. This is the gift that alumni give me. These brief glimpses into my students' post high school lives are special moments of memory and meaning. They may be the one of the best perks of being a teacher: seeing my students all grown up.

This is one of the reasons I enjoy Facebook. Although I often wish my students wouldn’t graduate, I know that is selfish. My job is help them develop skills so they don’t need me any more. Then they move on. That is how it should be.

But I miss them. I was walking down the hall and I saw a girl far away. For a moment, I thought it was a student from my homeroom. Then I realized she was at college. I had just hoped it was her.

After I left the restaurant, I went to a Shabbat service. One the congregants brought a guest: another former student! She is now a teacher and has children of her own. Twice in one evening, I got to touch the past by seeing the future.

Students stop visiting the high school when they graduate from college. It is rare to have older students visit. However, many of my former students are moving back to Deerfield with their spouses and children. Some are old enough to have kids in high school. It won’t be long until I have a former student’s child in class. That makes me feel old and really good.

I will not see a majority of my former students after they leave high school. I will bump into a handful. I will keep in touch with a few through Facebook or email. A small number have become friends. I have attended many of my former students’ weddings and other special events. I go out for coffee or a meal with several regularly. Most of them call me by my first name now.

The apple in the mason jar looks really ugly. It has not aged well. The kids, on the other hand, are ageless golden apples. They are worth keeping forever. I have faith that those I do not see are productive, happy, and making a difference. Seeing a few of them gives me hope for all of them. And I worry less.