Their names ...

My memory is not what it used to be.  At 61, how can I expect it to be that of an 18-year old?  How cruel is Nature to give me a life so rich and then gradually restrict my access to its records in my dotage ...

Fortunately, there are important moments from the past 30 years that I yet recall,  moments when I witnessed the spark take hold in the eyes of students, moments when I knew the bonfire had been lit.

I write this entry now so those moments can never be taken from me by synaptic failure.

To these students, whose names I still recall, I express my deepest and most heartfelt appreciation for allowing me to be part of that learning, that moment of awakening.  They have provided me with immeasurable insight into what it means to be a teacher/learner and that is a source of infinite joy.

There are so many more, who are just as significant but whose names have been taken from me by the cold collusion of chronology and biology.  To these students, I apologize but assure them that their effect on me has been as permanent as my memory is impermanent.

And so, wherever they are today, I speak these names, still within my recall, with all of the respect, admiration, and gratitude that constantly informs my teaching:


Doug DiPasquale

Tanya Laughren

Kyla Redden
Sarah Carruthers (now Wells)
Tim Lacey
Danny Pilon
Ryan Maitland
Robbie Vize
Dave De Santis
Matt Voynovich
Cedric de Jager
Laura Thomson (now Scoufaris)
Adam Smith
Stephen MacKinnon
Matt W. Clare
Bryan LaPlante
Chris Hannah from Glasgow (for Gorillaz)
Steve Dixon
Brandon Cleary
Christie Adams
Michelle Chan
Jason Chow
Chris Vandenberg
Mike Brousseau
Andrea Winter
Johannes Bittner
Vicky McArthur
 And then there are those who are still my students and their names will appear here after their graduation.

I am so deeply indebted to each and every one of them for teaching me how to be a better teacher.

Gardens

Now that classes are over and grades are in, I can focus a bit more on getting the last bits cleaned up in the garden.  It is always a surprise to see early blooms that we had forgotten about, and always a welcome pleasure to get those first fragrant whiffs of lilac that just whisper Spring.

Classes are so much like gardens, I find.  Some classes you simply know will grow and blossom just about as you might hope: buds push up and grow tall and straight.

And then there are classes like the ones I had this year that grew in their own ways, their stems sometimes leaning, sometimes curling, not at all what I had expected.

But on that last day of class, there it was:  a garden of absolutely unique blooms, some with subdued colours, others with colour so vibrant they could barely contain themselves, some that looked as if they were plants from another planet, and others that were easily identified. They had, each and every one, found their own shape and purpose in that class, each one beautiful, each one exceptional.

And so, even with thirty years of university teaching experience, I still have to remind myself:

Your expectations are your expectations. 

Trust the students.
Nurture them and they will flourish.