Rare, Like Discovering Treasure
I stand in front of a college classroom. Thirty backpacks shoved under long tables. Every student carrying a load of worry and loneliness. In a window-less classroom under florescent lighting we gather for a class that explores mindfulness. Topics best mastered in community.
‘How did your practice go this week’, I ask the class. ‘What discoveries did you make’. Students shift in their seats, fiddle with their pencils. All eyes avoiding mine. They want to respond; want to share … but they are afraid of exposure in a classroom of peers. Identical twin brothers, Austin and Jon, sit together on the far left of the classroom in the front row. Jon raises his hand, his deep, warm voice breaking the silence, ‘I couldn’t stop my thinking’. Other students nod. But the silence remains thick.
Questions. Followed by nervous silences. Week after week. And, it is Jon and Austin, always from the left, always raising their hands. They truly are identical --- large athletic men with sandy brown hair, friendly smiles, everyone feels welcomed in their presence. They share stories of their challenges learning to meditate, their journey exploring core values, their love for family and friends. They are easy, generous in story. After 2 or 3 weeks the ice melts some. Now and then 2 or 3 other students venture into our discussions; share their tales. We grow closer as a class. We laugh and support each other. Pairs of friends start to save seats for each other.
In moments when the classroom grows cautious and silence descends, I turn to the left. Grateful.
Two years later they join my class again, this time as teaching assistants. They help me set up the classroom and join in discussions. Two years later we are in the same concrete classroom, the same fluorescent lighting but with thirty different students. I ask ‘How did your practice go’. A dozen students raise their hands, enthusiastic, open to share their stories. Jon and Austin, quieter this semester.
We talk after class. ‘Wow, this class is night and day different from our class’, Austin says. So many people were so open, right from the start’, Jon adds. ‘We worked so hard that last semester with you’, they share. Surprised, I ask ‘how so’? ‘We couldn’t leave you without any students responding’. ‘What you do is amazing and we had to show up for you every class.’
To me they were extroverted storytellers who just loved engaging. I had thought their raised hands reflected their enthusiasm for my questions. And this was true. But foremost, they showed up because they wanted me to succeed. In a cautious, quiet classroom environment, they cared about me. Every. Single. Day.
It is rare these days. Like discovering treasure. Rare, that college students lift their professors. It’s difficult to capture how profoundly Jon and Austin touched me. Deep in a place where I’m too much on my own. How much I needed this. How we all do.