With graduation season right around the corner, I found myself reflecting on the journey of my remarkable students. One in particular, a first-generation college student named Mia, was busy selecting classes for her final semester. She sighed with relief when I informed her that a lighter course load was an option. All she could think about was working as much as possible to save for her independence post-graduation. Juggling three part-time jobs, she confided in me that moving back in with her parents—both remarried—wasn’t even a consideration. Her father had lost his job and downsized to a cramped apartment that had no space for her. Her mother, busy with younger children, made it clear that Mia wasn’t welcome. “I’m just terrified of being homeless,” she admitted.
My heart ached for her. Mia was driven and passionate about her education, a characteristic common among the students at our state college, where reasonable tuition attracts many ambitious individuals. Many arrive on campus burdened with worries about finances and academic readiness. Coming from an underfunded rural school district, Mia faced challenges that left her unprepared for college life—she didn’t even know how to send an email when she first arrived. Despite these hurdles, her love for learning and relentless work ethic allowed her to catch up to her more privileged classmates. She often expressed her gratitude for the support I provided when she found my lessons particularly enlightening.
Over the years, our conversations revealed personal insights into our lives. When I learned about Mia’s talent for singing, I shared how my young daughter was developing a love for music. When my daughter snagged a role in a local play, I felt compelled to share my excitement. Mia, too, shared her joy when she landed her first significant role in a high school production, despite her mother’s initial indifference. “She didn’t even know I could sing,” Mia remarked. However, on opening night, she spotted her mother in the audience, tears streaming down her face.
I can’t fathom not recognizing a child’s talent. My daughter, for instance, is always singing her heart out to show tunes. While Mia was more reserved about her abilities, I understood that her upbringing wasn’t conducive to parental involvement. In a time when many criticize “helicopter parents” for stifling their children’s independence, Mia’s parents were simply overwhelmed, failing to notice the unique gifts she possessed.
In that moment, I felt an overwhelming urge to offer her a place in my home, to provide her with the nurturing she deserved. We had a guest room, and I envisioned her being a temporary older sister to my only child. However, I knew this fantasy reached far beyond my role as her professor. I was already fulfilling my duty by guiding her toward a degree that, despite ongoing debates about college debt, remains a vital stepping stone for a better future. I didn’t have to mother her, but the instinct to do so was strong.
I told Mia how exceptional she was, affirming my belief that she would carve out her path to success through hard work and genuine care. “Teaching you is a gift,” I confessed, my eyes brimming with tears, acutely aware of how much I would miss her.
As another commencement approaches, I find myself reflecting on Mia and countless other students I’ve grown close to over the years. Saying goodbye is never easy, and with each passing year, my emotional bonds with my students seem to deepen, often taking on a maternal tone (and yes, I’m old enough to be their mother). I become privy to their personal struggles—relationships, career anxieties, immigration challenges, and battles with mental health that no young adult should endure.
Yet, my pride in the young adults they have become is immense. Many have exceeded expectations, earning awards for their journalism and gaining acceptance into prestigious graduate programs. I’ve witnessed their transformation from shy, self-centered teens into assertive, purpose-driven reporters who give me hope for the future of this field.
I joke about my feelings, saying, “I only have one child, but then there are my students.” While the parental metaphor is complex, I remind myself that I can’t be a mother to this diverse group of 18- to 22-year-olds. After all, I grade their work and write recommendation letters, which is a relief.
Ultimately, I recognize that I cannot replicate the intricate dynamics of a true parent-child relationship. Mia did not need another parent; she thrived independently. Just before graduation, her mother surprised her by inviting her back home until she secured a job. By the end of summer, she had landed a position as a flight attendant—an unconventional route for a journalism degree, but I couldn’t be happier for her. I love seeing her Facebook updates showcasing her adventures in distant places and the joyful moments shared with her mother.
On graduation day, few real mothers would tolerate the swift farewells typical at our college. After the ceremony, my department hosts receptions for graduates and their families, complete with cake in school colors. Yet, almost no one stays, and the faculty ends up in a sad circle, munching on colorful cake.
I try not to take it personally. I remind myself that cheering for my exuberant students as they cross the stage for their diplomas is the best way to say goodbye.
In a time when the value of a college education is frequently questioned, with scorecards and rankings like Payscale allowing families to compare earnings post-graduation, I believe these metrics fail to capture the emotional bonds that form between professors and their students. For me, those connections are invaluable, and I hope my students feel the same.
If you’re curious to explore more about the journey of parenting and the emotional ties that bind us, check out this insightful post on Cervical Insemination. Additionally, if you’re interested in at-home insemination options, Make a Mom offers reliable syringe kits that can help you on your journey. For those seeking comprehensive resources on the IVF process, I recommend this excellent guide from Parents.
In summary, as graduation season approaches, the bittersweet emotions of letting go are palpable. The bonds formed between educators and students are profound, impacting both parties in ways that extend far beyond the classroom.
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