Feedback from both sides of my life lifted me up

Any teacher will tell you that the end of the year is true insanity.
As usual, I held my end-of-term conferences for students to check in with me about final projects and receive feedback before finals week. I usually enjoy these conferences, because it gives me one final opportunity to meet individually with all my students and share how I’ve seen them progress in the class.

This year, however, I was drained. In addition to our usual onslaught of college activities and student events, last-minute meetings were scheduled so that, oftentimes, my day was jam packed. From 8 a.m. to 3 p.m., there was something on my calendar and, after 3 p.m., I was on mom-duty for almost 4-year-olds and a 2-year-old.

I wasn’t feeling the conferences. As Monday began, I actually dreaded them: just another thing for me to show up for.

Halfway through the first round of students, though, I noticed a shift.
Yes, I was offering feedback and encouragement for just making it through the last days of the semester, but I was also receiving feedback from the students about my courses.

One student shared that they liked the class because it was a challenge. He said he got bored in some of his other classes, because it was clear his teachers were relying on old class notes and they were just doing the same things over and over.

But, in our class, we learned together. We went to the state archives and found material and figured out how to analyze and learn from those materials together. We created a class exhibit to showcase our work.

Another student in my literature course shared that she hadn’t considered the importance of history and culture to understanding a literary text. She liked considering the different ways that literature took shape and making connections to similar obstacles we still experience today.

Often, college professors don’t hear this feedback until, maybe – if we’re lucky – in our course evaluations at the end of the year. I went from feeling dread to feeling optimistic: maybe we do, after all, make a difference.

That afternoon, as I picked up my kids, one of the teachers asked to speak with me. Usually that means there’s a problem, but this time, she shared that one of my twins was such an eager learner. Apparently, he had spent the afternoon observing quietly as the older kids learned a lesson/activity, and then had tried practicing it on his own before asking his teacher for help.

I listened with pride and watched my son light up. At home, we’ve been working on watching, learning and calmly asking for help instead of unleashing tantrums in frustration.

It’s in these moments that God speaks to us in his quiet fashion. “I see that you’re tired, that you’re doing your best,” he seems to say, “but you don’t see the difference that you’re making?”

And, sometimes, those are just the words we need.

[email protected]