Hail to the teach

I got an email out of the blue today from one of my students from Russian 101 back in 1994. Of course I remember her, since there’s so much personal interaction in language classes and the students spend the first couple of years just learning how to talk about themselves. It’s definitely flattering that she remembers me. That was my first quarter teaching, and I was probably a pretty lousy teacher. Then again, 101 students always have the best impression of you. You’re like the Oracle at Delphi, writing mysterious characters on the board and speaking in tongues. The students are all optimistic and fresh, and everything is fun and games. By 104 three quarters later, they’re completely demoralized by the strangeness of Russian grammar and beaten down by complexities such as motion verbs and verbal aspect. It was at that point that I was hearing one girl lean over to another and utter in a stage whisper, “She hates me!” And how could I forget the student who wrote with unexpected candor in his instructor evaluation of me that he didn’t work very hard in the class because was just trying to pass. He did—just barely.

Today was the first day of classes here at the ivy-encrusted university where I work. I sure don’t miss grading workbook exercises every night, or trying to figure out an engaging way to introduce the dative plural. (I don’t think there is one.) But it’s nice to know that somebody learned something because I was there to help.