Parting with the Class of 2024 has been the hardest in my teaching career.
As I woke up, the dark gray sky seemed on the verge of tears. Soon, it began to sprinkle softly, a fine mist descending from above. I arrived on campus early, standing amidst a gathering of students in a parking lot. There, I checked in with my seniors, capturing their photos, admiring their cap and gown decorations, and offering the first round of hugs.
I swapped my soggy parka for academic regalia and joined the faculty procession into the stadium. The drizzle persisted throughout the ceremony, with temperatures in the lower 50s. This was undoubtedly the most dismal commencement day weather in my two decades at this university.
I had hoped for a different experience for them. A sunny spring day, with fluffy white clouds in a blue sky and purple Jacaranda petals dancing in the breeze, would have provided a bright and cheerful conclusion to their college journey. Especially considering their journey began under the dark shadow of the COVID-19 pandemic. They had missed out entirely on the typical high school graduation experience. They took all their first-year courses online and didn’t even get to the university campus until their second year. I wished for them all the pomp and circumstances in a beautiful day, without having to endure an outdoor reception, munching on stale crackers while shivering in their soggy, thin, nylon gowns.
The next day, I awoke feeling melancholic without understanding why. The weather recovered overnight, and the sun was shining brightly. My calendar was wide open, inviting me to come up for a day of fun and relaxation. I was nearing the end of the academic year, soon to wrap up my teaching duties and indulge in a long-awaited summer filled with reading the growing pile of books, working on my AI-art projects, leisurely walks, and, oh, the glorious two-hour afternoon naps! So why the sudden blues?
Then, it dawned on me. I already missed my students.
A dozen or so of the seniors who graduated the day before had been in my online classes as first-year students during that challenging academic year of the pandemic. I first encountered them as small thumbnail images on my computer screen in my home office—uncertain, anxious, and distracted.
After a few weeks, we began to adapt to this new mode of existence, discovering ways to communicate better in the mediated "classroom" and growing more comfortable with each other. Admittedly, not all students in my classes were fully engaged, but a few in each class managed to connect with me and with their peers. By the end of the year, we felt like a community of sorts.
Transitioning back to campus life after 18 months of social isolation wasn't seamless. While nearly everyone on campus was vaccinated, masks and social distancing remained mandatory. My thumbnail students materialized in my classes as real individuals, sitting stiffly in their chairs, spaced as far apart as the space allowed. I learned to speak through my mask, with the background hum of an air purifier, and to recognize them by what was visible above their masks.
Amidst these unsettling moments of readjustment to post-pandemic life, the same group of students continued to attend my classes. They became my advocates, encouraging more students to enroll, guiding them through assignments, and leading discussions. Semester after semester, their comfort with me and mine with them defined the informal and inclusive atmosphere of my classroom.
As they neared their graduation, many of them told me my classes had shifted their perspectives and aided their academic journey. What they don't know is, they changed me more than they could ever realize, as a teacher and as a person, with their enthusiasm and comradery, of which I was privileged to be a part.
Darn it, what will I do in the fall without their presence, their trust in me and in each other, their humor, kindness, and positive spirit?
But it was time for them to move forward. Despite the disappointments, missed opportunities, and obstacles they faced, they crossed the finish line. They didn’t lose hope or abandon their optimism. They learned from their turbulent college experience—the significance of learning, connecting with others, and persevering through hardships. Their future shines brightly, like the clear sky after a long rain.
Off you go, Class of 2024! Seize every opportunity, conquer life's challenges, for you are destined for the greatest and best things in life. And remember, drop me a text now and then to share your adventures!
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