Paper, Scissors

Back when I was teaching, I had a student I could not manage. Control was never my strong suit, and, in a school for creative writers with admission based on passion and talent, rules seemed antithetical to the culture of unfettered expression. (For context, the creator of “Euphoria” was once a student there, so draw your own conclusions). Still, even in a freewheeling culture, this student pushed the boundaries.

Our head-butting began the first day of school. They were drawing on the smartboard and I asked them to take a seat so I could start class. They kept drawing. I asked more forcefully, and they said, “No.”

Previously, I’d taught at a private school where what I said went, but here, I was powerless. It was a watershed moment. If I expected compliance, I was in the wrong place.

As a writer, this student submitted work but rarely implemented my suggestions. They rejected in-class prompts they deemed lame and wrote what they felt like writing. To their credit, they took the work seriously, and they were pretty spectacular at it. Their peers revered them. They were also a colossal pain in my ass.

Anyway, it’s been three years since those three years, and on Sunday, I got an email from this very student, asking if I remembered them. They were graduating from college a year early, and the prospect of graduation felt “terrifying”. They signed off with “I hope you are well.”

It’s hard for an adult who has a nurturing style to align with a coolly confrontational brilliant young person, even though that nurturing adult suspects that said young person is drawn to her gentle hand and big heart even more than they delight in squishing the lifeblood out of both. Yet, here we are.

So, in response to the prospect of graduation feeling terrifying, I wrote: Graduating is supposed to feel terrifying, but you were never one to back down from a challenge.

This is the truth, from the light of mutual respect. A student who, every time, picked scissors to my paper made for a humbling education, but enough paper, over time, teaches even the sharpest blade a thing or two about rocks.