When speaking to my class as a whole, I offer refer to them as “friends.”
My former colleague, Donna Gosk, suggested it as a replacement to “boys and girls” long ago.
Recently (and occasionally over the years) I have been told by various people that my students aren’t my friends.
I never argue the point, because I can only assume the person making this assertion is a deeply unhappy and troubled soul.
An uninformed fool.
Kind of an idiot.
Not my friends? Admittedly, the friendship I share with my students is different than the friendship I share with Elysha or one of my adult friends, but not my friends?
How ridiculous.
I spend seven hours a day with these human beings for nearly a full calendar year. I might spend more time with my students on most days than members of my immediate family. I know most of my students as well as many of the friends in my life. They change my life in deep and profound ways. They live in my heart and mind long after they have stepped out of my classroom.
Not my friends?
What a stupid thought.
Just this week, eight of my former students have contacted me, to say hello, ask to visit, or request a favor, ranging in age from high school student to college student to post-college. Admittedly it’s been a busy week as former students go, but still, it happened.
I’ve taken former students – now adults – to Moth StorySLAMs in New York and Boston. Celebrated holidays with their families. Played golf with them. Enjoyed meals with them. Text with some – again, now adults – regularly.
Many former students pass in and out of my life – as friends sometimes do – but others remain in my life for years.
Earlier this year, I received this email from a former student:
Good Morning!
