Always your teacher

A few years ago, Don and I were traveling through Gettysburg on our way home from Virginia. I remembered that a former student, Mary, was a freshman at Gettysburg College, so I tweeted at her since I was passing through town. A quick conversation ensued that resulted in us going to pick her up at her dorm and taking her out for ice cream at the FABULOUS Mr. G's.

Over our treats, Mary said she told her roommate where she was going, and her roommate replied, "Wait, you're going out for ice cream with one of your teachers?? ?" Her roommate insisted that was a very weird and awkward thing to do. Mary was like, "Not really. At our school we are really close with our teachers, especially AP ones."

I had honestly never thought about it that way, have never really thought it was anything special. But this conversation made me wonder if it really is that unusual: I love catching up with my kids after they're in college to hear about their post-high school experience... don't all teachers?

This weekend I had the opportunity to interact with three former students, which got me thinking about it again.

On Friday before we went to the Black Tie Tailgate, my former student Natalie offered to come over and do my makeup (which she does professionally). I had Natalie in class two years in a row, and have always enjoyed her company; she's a junior in college now, and we try to catch up a few times a year, often over appetizers at Applebees. She messaged me when she needed advice about her college major, and I asked if she was free when I needed a reliable person to help me stage manage a play.

On Saturday, Don and I took a trip to West Virginia University, about four and a half hours from home. We went so that we could see another former student, Hailey, who's a freshman musical theatre major. Hailey was cast in her first college production, The Magic Flute, and her mom (who's a colleague) asked if we wanted some extra tickets that the family couldn't use. Our response was an immediate "yes!" Why wouldn't I want to see Hailey in a show? Of course we jumped at the chance and hit the road.

While we were down there, I thought of another former student, Collin, who is a senior there this year. Collin is one of those kids who I had a great rapport with while he was in school; he's the one who dubbed my nickname to be Jam, but he wasn't a kid who stayed in touch after leaving high school. Still, I sent a quick shout on twitter to him telling him I was at WVU and thought of him. Next thing I know he's replying back saying, "How long are you in town? If you have some free time I'd love to see you. I can give you a tour of campus!" Which led to Collin and his girlfriend walking several blocks to meet Don and I after lunch, showing us around the library, and catching up about high school, college, and life in general. It was a lovely afternoon and I got so excited to make yet another connection with a former student.

See, I like the kids I teach. Not just as students, but as human beings. I like to talk with them and know what's going on in their lives. Is that weird? I don't think so. To me it seems normal, but I guess other people might think it's awkward and strange.

I certainly don't have that kind of relationship with every student, nor even most of them; that's just a result of the fact that you naturally "click" with some people more than others. But my experiences this weekend made me reflect on that conversation with Mary so long ago.

It inspired me to tweet these two messages on my teacher-twitter account:

I 💙 my job & I 💙 that living in the age of social media means you never really say goodbye to cool cat students. You get to watch them grow even after they graduate & see them go out into the world & be awesome, like the 3 I saw this wknd @HDurner @Flash_Floody @_natsasso

— Mrs. Jameson (@Jameson349) February 3, 2019

I hope my students, past present and future, all know that if I’m ever in the town where you go to college, I will always meet up with you if the opportunity arises. I will come if you invite me to something. Don’t ever think you’ve been forgotten just because you have left Naz https://t.co/D5Uu6x1KUr

— Mrs. Jameson (@Jameson349) February 3, 2019

Some people might raise an eyebrow at that sentiment, but as for me, I want to make sure my students know that at least one adult in school likes them for them, that they'll always be my kids, and that I will always be their cheerleader.

I mean, isn't that what "being a teacher" is?

In which I apparently overuse the word "things"

So we have big plans for tomorrow night. Don and I are going to the Black Tie Tailgate, which is a huge fancy party thrown at the Philadelphia Auto Show. It's a huge fundraiser for CHOP, specifically benefiting the nursing department, so when we heard about it we immediately started considering it.

We've never done anything like this before. Don hasn't worn his suit since Scott and Amber's wedding in 2006... our wedding has been the only time I've seen him dressed up since we've been together. Even when we go to church or other more dressy occasions, his go-to is a polo and khakis. And while I do occasionally get dressed up, it typically involves something that can be worn over leggings. So we got Don's suit dry cleaned, and I found this super sequined wine-red gown on Rent the Runway. I've spent the week planning hair, nails, and even makeup.

The party features a red carpet, an open bar, passed hors d'oeuvres, and a dance band... all happening among a giant showroom of fancy new cars. It's totally out of our comfort zone, and I suspect we're going to feel like big ol' imposters all night.

But still, we're super excited about it; all week we just keep telling each other how much we can't wait for Friday.

On the other hand, it's bittersweet.

I mean, everything we do has this little cloud over it because things were supposed to be different. We should have a baby at home causing us to hole up and hibernate for the winter. If things had gone according to plan, we wouldn't be able to do any of these things.

We shouldn't have been able to go to New York the other week and see three shows in 24 hours.

We shouldn't have been able to go to this party.

We shouldn't have been able to plan to go to New York in April to see Be More Chill.

I shouldn't be able to go to the AP Reading in June.

All of these things that I truly want to do. Things that I'm looking forward to and excited about. And every one of them a giant reminder about how my life was supposed to be so different now.

So how does one reckon with that? If I had a live baby at home, would I be sad about all the things I couldn't do? Would I resent her for changing my life and taking away all these things that I could be doing instead?

And on the other hand, how can I be excited and looking forward to these things? Wouldn't I rather give up any of them if it meant things would be different and she were here? The excitement for every one of them is tinged with a sense of guilt.

All of these things that we wouldn't be able to do if she were here. And all of these upcoming plans that were supposed to involve her, like our summer trip to West Virginia. Everything we do is tinged with thoughts of the alternate universe in which we had a normal pregnancy, happy birth, and living child.