As the semester wraps up in mere days, everyone is having the last this and the last that and all getting together for the last time, etc. etc. Because I am the Apodemia Mormo Langei of social butterflies (yes, I did look up lists of rarely seen butterflies and pick one at random), I pick and choose which last ever hurrahs I go to so that my delicate hermit's homeostasis is uninterrupted. As a result, the ones I go to are the ones that I think will mean the most to me. Today's last ever hurrah meant an exceptional amount.
I was blessed in high school to consistently have teachers wholly invested in their work and their students, and I was always the nerd hanging out in their rooms simply because I enjoyed their company. It was an adjustment for me to come to college and realize that professors aren't all like that and oftentimes have too many students to distinguish someone on the front row of their lectures passing by on the sidewalk. Which is fine. It's expected. These folks have so many different students in so many different classes it's probably nigh impossible to keep track. Still, it was a blow to my little freshman heart. Through the years, in a small department and higher level courses, professors did become exponentially more personal, thank goodness for my little sophomore, junior, and senior hearts. One professor in particular has always gone above and beyond in genuine care for his students. Always a pleasure to run across in the hall or on the sidewalk, always cognizant of what's going on with your plans. He's just a fixture in all of our lives, and he invited the graduating seniors to an ice cream party at his house. He and his wife prayed over us, served us burgers, organized a game of "Win, Lose, or Draw", doled up brownie ice cream sundaes, put on a pot of coffee, and hosted us for three hours of delight. It was a sweet and fun, perfect celebration of what it really is to be a teacher and mentor.
I was blessed in high school to consistently have teachers wholly invested in their work and their students, and I was always the nerd hanging out in their rooms simply because I enjoyed their company. It was an adjustment for me to come to college and realize that professors aren't all like that and oftentimes have too many students to distinguish someone on the front row of their lectures passing by on the sidewalk. Which is fine. It's expected. These folks have so many different students in so many different classes it's probably nigh impossible to keep track. Still, it was a blow to my little freshman heart. Through the years, in a small department and higher level courses, professors did become exponentially more personal, thank goodness for my little sophomore, junior, and senior hearts. One professor in particular has always gone above and beyond in genuine care for his students. Always a pleasure to run across in the hall or on the sidewalk, always cognizant of what's going on with your plans. He's just a fixture in all of our lives, and he invited the graduating seniors to an ice cream party at his house. He and his wife prayed over us, served us burgers, organized a game of "Win, Lose, or Draw", doled up brownie ice cream sundaes, put on a pot of coffee, and hosted us for three hours of delight. It was a sweet and fun, perfect celebration of what it really is to be a teacher and mentor.
What did he teach?
ReplyDelete