Vol 1., No. 9
We live in a world that seems more and more contentious and
intolerant if all the negative stories that cross our paths are to be
believed. I’m not sure about the world
as a whole, but I know that there are points of light no matter where you go
and FLCC is no different. November is
upon us, and it often brings with it a nod towards things about which we are
thankful. I’m thankful for the moments I
observe as a professor; moments that are perhaps far more telling than perhaps
the people involved even realize. So,
sit back and meander through an eighty minute class of mine wherein I witnessed
four vignettes of student interaction that have stuck with me. There are more, but I really like these four
and I think they say a lot about the students involved and the kind of
environment classes can create. I doubt I need to say that it was an Honors
course, but it was. This is not to say
that I don’t think these kinds of stories exist all across our campus and
beyond, because I believe they do. In my
experience, however, it is in the Honors classrooms where I see these
heartwarming stories more often.
“Pardon”
In a moment of waiting for some as others finished up
in-class work, one student stood up to draw on the board. She went to caption her illustration and
asked her classmates how to spell a word.
One said, “really?!” in a sort of disbelieving way and she immediately
turned around and said, “Hey, I have dyslexia, shut up.” These last two words were said in a congenial
sort of way and without any malice. The
first student asked if she really was and when she told him she was, he said sincerely,
“I didn’t know, pardon” and then proceeded to goofily (and obviously) misspell
the word for her. This moment struck me
for several reasons. First – a student with documented learning disabilities
was enrolled in a 200-level English Honors class. Second – she was comfortable enough with her
classmates to admit this without embarrassment or apology. Third – her classmate immediately apologized
and then carried on as if she were just another classmate. Because she was.
“I tried”
Another student in the class has near-crippling anxiety when
it comes to speaking in class and especially when presenting. She never refuses to do it, but it is
occasionally very painful to watch her suffer, near tears, with whatever is
asked of her. On this day, she had to
describe a classmate’s project to the rest of the class, who could clearly tell
she was struggling. Several students
offered suggestions – including to put on sunglasses. She did this, but then had to take them off
because they were too dark for her to see what she was reading. The student who made the suggestion said he
tried, and he sounded sincerely disappointed that it didn’t work. With a few more words of encouragement, they
all then listened as she spoke in her shaky voice which kept giving out. When she was done, there were several nods
and smiles of support, and then the class just carried on, leaving her to
settle and regain her calm as if that were the most normal thing in the
world. Because it is.
“Third person”
A third student in that same class is transgendered and just
this semester, he came out as such. It
has been an adjustment for those who know him, of course, and a terrifying journey
for him as well. I don’t think everyone
in the class knows yet, because it generally isn’t the kind of thing that you
announce in a classroom setting. There
are some who know, however, and so a casual comment took on a much more
meaningful depth when I put him in a group with another male of the same name. There were comments about them being ‘Name
Squared’ and whatnot, but when the other student was commenting on his
classmate’s project, someone in the class piped up and said ‘You sound like you’re
talking in the third person’ and that was just such a casual and flippant sort
of comment until you realized what it actually entailed. Students accepted their classmate who was
transitioning and treating the flipped pronoun as if it were no big deal. Because it shouldn’t be.
“Make it brighter”
The last vignette involves me. I had a rough couple of hours before I headed
into class that day and, had I not cancelled the class the week before for a
personal reason, I probably would have cancelled it that day. So, I walked in, settled into the room and
someone asked me how I was. For whatever
reason, I decided to tell them I’d have a rough day. Without missing a beat, one of the students
said, “Well, let’s see if we can make it a little brighter for you, doctor.” As if it were no big deal.
But it was. Time and
time again, students in Honors classes form a bond with one another and with
their instructor. Not that they pry or
force intimacy where there is none, but I’m sure my fellow Honors faculty will
agree with me when I say there is an Honors community that is unlike any other
kind of class I’m used to teaching.
Except when I model them on my Honors courses. There’s something about the Honors approach –
the curiosity, the enthusiasm, the passion – that encourages students to let
down some of their guard, to acknowledge and work with and around difference,
to support and encourage each other, to raise each other up and to create a
real learning environment. They
celebrate one another and value one another and, in turn, are valued
themselves. Not as just another face in
just another classroom, but as fellow traveler on an intellectual journey.
It is one of the most satisfying and amazing observations to
make as an instructor, because I am only one small part of a much larger being
born of synergy and shared experience, and a genuine love of learning.
That…is Honors.
“We travel, some of us forever, to seek other places, other
lives, other souls” – Anais Nin
