The Heart of Honors

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