I Am Haunted!

It's true! Every semester I am haunted by one or two students who fill my waking hours with ponderings, prayers, and perplexities. At the community college level, we encounter many different students from all ages and all sorts of background experiences and capabilities. We never know who may walk through those doors the first day of class. I have had students from 16 to 75 years old, students with learning disabilities of various kinds, students who I swear were brighter than I ever could be, students who have disappointed me, and students who have surprised me. Often I find myself praying for my students as they face unexpected circumstances beyond their control and as they attempt to overcome whatever obstacles have sidelined them in the past. So I am going to be personal with this blog and introduce you to some of those students who have haunted me--with pseudonyms, of course.

One of the first students to haunt me showed up in my Business English class at College of the Redwoods over 15 years ago. "Shawna" was in her late twenties or early thirties; it was difficult to tell because she had experienced all the physical ravages of meth addiction. Having completed rehab, she was now pursuing an Associates degree, engaged to a wonderful man, and finally raising her two children. As I worked with her in and out of the classroom, I was struck by her immaturity. There was one particular incident that mystified me early in the semester: she approached me after class to get clarification regarding an assignment from our textbook, which was to write a business letter requesting further information from a company. As I spoke with her, she began to point more and more vehemently at the page in the text, asking me to explain word for word what should be in the letter, from the date to the signature. As her frustration surfaced, her voice rose. It was then that I realized that she wanted me to tell her exactly how to do the assignment, without incorporating any thinking on her own. Perplexed, I consulted one of my psychology colleagues who confirmed my thinking:  meth can stunt the maturation process. Shawna was exhibiting the maturity of the thirteen year old who existed before meth took over her life. With my new understanding, I was able to adjust how I communicated with her. I still meet other Shawnas from time to time as I teach.

Then there was "Stuart" who was a star athlete from a private Catholic school. He thought he should have been at a university, but his parents sent him to a community college instead. This became the chip on his shoulder exhibited during every conversation we had. When Stuart wrote his narrative essay, he talked about the impact of the accidental death of his older brother, his only sibling whom he adored. Although the accident had occurred at least four years prior to his entering college, it was obvious that he was still processing through his grief. His entire football career was in honor of his brother, and I think he may have perceived, imaginary or otherwise, that he needed to live up to his brother's image. That is quite a burden to bear. He failed the first semester with me because he did not come to class, and he refused to write his essays according to the assignment instructions. During that semester, he accused me of disrespecting him. The following spring, he showed up in my class again; I assume this may have been required by his parents. The same pattern continued with the absences and writing whatever he felt like writing. When once again he was facing a failing grade, he accused me of not having read any of the papers he turned in. Stuart perplexed me continually. He tried to maintain a tough veneer which expressed itself in a superiority over his classmates, but this veneer was crumbling around the edges in ways he could not control. I hope that he is doing well and has come to believe in his own personal value, not as a substitute for his brother.

I also met an amazing young woman "Elizabeth" who took several of my classes while enrolled at College of the Redwoods. She had already earned a BS, but she lost all that knowledge when she was run over by a tank in a North African desert exercise while serving in the Army. With a mangled left hand and a loss of long term memory and struggles with her short term memory, she decided to enroll in college again even though her neurologist told her not to. When she shared with me that she was forgetting her assignments by the time she would get to her apartment, we started working together regularly, and I asked her to teach me about brain trauma. Elizabeth was an amazing student!  She not only learned to adapt by typing one-handed, she also learned to make up for her memory shortages. Her neurologist began having her accompany him to conferences to talk about the "miracle" of her recovery. I keep the photo of Elizabeth in her graduation regalia on my bulletin board to remind me of how amazing we humans can be. I just shared her story and photo with my students in the Student Success course in hopes of inspiring them to set loftier goals for themselves.

A few years ago, I had "Michael" in one of my composition classes. An absolutely brilliant older man!  He had attended one of the military academies until drinking and drugs brought his college career to an end. From there, he moved around from the East Coast to the West Coast, and everywhere in between, living for the next high until he got caught in the middle of a drug deal gone bad and almost lost his life. Through rehab he got clean and decided to try college again. The man was humorous, wise, and compassionate. I saw him around campus helping disabled students struggling to maneuver our hills. Unfortunately, he found out that he could not pursue a nursing career because of his past. He kept taking classes for awhile, but then he disappeared. I fear that he may not have been able to give himself permission to succeed. I still think about him and hope that he will find himself.

"Trevor" took two of my classes. Not fitting into the regular high school, he had been sent to an alternative school where he was told not to pursue any education past graduation. he had spent his four years of high school in special education classes. Even so, after graduation, he decided to give college a try. My summer class was his first exposure to college. Although his first couple of weeks were rocky, he began to figure out what he needed to do. His scores continued to rise as he got the hang of the reading, thinking, and writing. Through sheer determination and a lot of extra effort, he ended up with a B in his first college course--the kid who was labeled as "insufficient" to attempt college. Trevor is now pursuing his BA at Grand Canyon University.

This semester I once again have students who haunt me. Some I worry about, and some just irritate me for various reasons. Some are going to make it and do really well, others maybe not. Some aren't ready yet, and some are more than ready. Every semester is different, every student is unique, and every prayer for students is offered humbly in hopes of making a difference in each life.