Formers

Several years ago, before Instagram and Snapchat came along, back when kids still cared about Facebook, a few students had sent me friend requests. They were all ignored, as I had told them they would be. (There are always a few kids in each group that won’t be going down in history for their mastery of paying attention.) One girl was almost offended that I wouldn’t accept friend requests from kids (her) and more than once tried to negotiate situations that would convince me to change my mind. 

This same girl tried again a few years ago, either when she was nearly out of middle school or just beginning high school. My rule back then (and still today) was that I wouldn’t accept requests from any former students until they had turned eighteen and graduated from high school. Her request has now been waiting in my queue, unconfirmed, for three or four years. In just about a month she will graduate, go through commencement, and I’ll be able to finally confirm it. 

The thing is, I have absolutely no idea if she’ll notice, or even care.

Is she still active on Facebook? Maybe. Maybe not. Would it still be as big of a deal for her to have me add her as a friend as it would have been in 2009? Doubtfully. I suspect she’ll get a message that I’ve confirmed her request, then have a moment of confusion wondering when she had ever sent me a request in the first place, then maybe laugh a little if/when she puts it all together. 

As an elementary teacher, you send students up to the next grade and watch them grow and progress until they leave your school and step off into the wider world, just as they’re starting to becoming something other than little kids. Usually when this happens it means you’re never going to see them again. This describes the overwhelming majority of my formers. Occasionally I’ll see some around town, either out with their families or friends or maybe working at a first job. Most of the time we’ll just exchange friendly hellos, but sometimes we’ll do that mutually agreed upon yet unspoken thing where we pretend not to know each other; I figure if they’re clearly trying so hard to stay off my radar, I’ll let them think they’re staying off of it. Sometimes I know who they are as soon as I see them, but usually I have to run their face through my mental database and age them up a few years to remember. 

I have a very small number of former students in that 18+/graduated category (some even in their 30s!) as Facebook friends now. It’s been interesting to get little glimpses into what their adult lives are like, and it’s good to know that whatever memories they have of you trend closer to seeing you as a one-time role model instead of a complete bastard they couldn't wait to escape.

Most of the time we send kids into the world and hope for the best, but usually never know how things turn out. And honestly, sometimes you really don’t want to know. Sometimes it hurts to find out. But when things are working out for your formers in more ways than not, it’s good to see them do well and know that you might have played some small part in helping that happen.

I’ve had a small number of formers reach out to me over the years, but two of those instances tend to stand out. Both were students I had for more than one year, during the time I moved up through the grades in teaching assignments early in my career. One was a young woman who wrote me a letter as she was about to graduate from a small college in the Northeast, thanking me for the time I spent reading her stories and offering her feedback about them, and how I had started her on the path to becoming someone who habitually received compliments about her writing from her professors. Another was guy who went into teaching and found his way into working with the types of high risk/high need students that most of us teachers don’t trust ourselves to be brave or passionate enough to work with effectively. He messaged me to say that since he was in the profession, he understood just how little true appreciation most teachers ever receive for the work we do, and wanted me to know he would always credit me for his decision to become a teacher. (I hope this doesn't mean he also holds it against me.)

There is not a lot of appreciation for teachers in our society anymore. But moments like those make the work worthwhile, and remind you why continuing the struggle is so important. It’s good to be reminded there are people in the world that I had the chance to influence. I can only hope that if my name ever crosses their minds — like it probably will in a few weeks for that soon-to-graduate high school girl when I confirm her friend request — they might smile at the memory and think of good times.