There are two things I particularly love about my students, things that make them so utterly dear to me — as much as they would roll with laughter at the sound of that descriptor.
First is their shocking, almost frightening ability to bare themselves, to share information with each other, who they know marginally, and with me, who they don’t know at all. Their sexuality, abuses they’ve suffered, embarrassing and painful moments most of us would guard against any outside knowledge. It makes them beautiful, this sharing, in ways that would never have occurred to me. They use the verbal equivalent of rib-spreaders without a hint of squeamishness. Tanya talking about the death of her baby and her reasons for choosing to get pregnant withing a year of his death. Rahim bringing his new girlfriend home to meet his parents and having his father aggressive pursue the girl. Rajindar’s parents pushing him into an arranged marriage. Jeovany struggling to understand his girlfriend’s betrayal. Sandy being treated with insults and contempt by medical staff at a clinic when she went to seek prenatal care. I think how long I have to know people before I share information even half as personal as this, and I am puzzled and amazed by their openness. Where does that come from? What is it about?
Second is the way they accept me, the way they assume a connection with me even while they see how not alike we are. I’ve seen this with other ages and types of students, but there’s something different happening with the kids I teach now. Other students have assumed that we share history simply because we share the same skin color. My current students are pretty completely clear that our histories aren’t much the same. Like them, I come from not a lot of money, but where I grew up, that didn’t mean tenements and projects, didn’t mean gang violence, didn’t mean too many people in one small apartment trying to make do on one benefit check. They know that I had a fairly quiet and sheltered childhood far from the troubles they’ve grown up with in the city. But there’s still this connection.
I haven’t figured either piece yet, but the trimester is only a few weeks old, so I’ve got time.
