Seniors

This is the day I remember we grow older.

I still think of you as children, but you are not, and never will be again. Young men and women, you are off to find your lives, and ride the train wherever it may take you. I will stay behind and keep the light on for others to follow.

The letter lay open on my desk. “I’m not a big fan of having people in my life for years at end and then all of a sudden completely cutting them out of my life as if they never meant anything to me, so I found it appropriate to write…”

This was a difficult year. Loss and loneliness. Change. The first year where the future was less than certain, and the truths fell to pieces. Everything, everything piled on, and many days, I did not think I would make it through, only to drive home in the gathering darkness and feel my own diminishing heart beat. I felt “time’s winged chariot hurrying near.” The dead of winter, empty trees, and nothing left to say. You were the first class that I ever lost my composure in front of, and in that moment, I felt you hold me up.

“These last four years in your class have been a pleasure. I really appreciate all that you have done for our class and for me. You have taught me to think outside of the box, and to question everything.”

Sometimes, I wonder if I teach you or is it you who teach me? Human beings teach each other what it means to be alive. I grow older, but I am kept young by you. You remind me of the hope and promise of those teenage years. You remind me of all the things left in our hearts to discover.

“This chapter of my life is over, and it’s time for the next one to begin. I am anxious for college to start. Fear of the unknown, right? But I can say that I have gained a confidence that is irreplaceable and I owe part of that confidence to you and your English class.”

You all wanted me to say something about each of you. Here goes:

Andrew, do not forget the mystery of flight, do not look down, do not let anything get in your way. Fly. And when you feel angry or discouraged, know that I believe in you, and that you have greatness inside.

Natalie, I never had to tell you to speak the truth; you are blunt and outspoken. Don’t be lazy; don’t sell yourself short. You are smart and you are capable of more than you know. Your words to your grandfather still make me cry.

Roselyn, I will miss your quiet strength, your resilience. Mount St. Mary’s will change your life and help you realize your dreams. Stick with it, and know that I am pulling for you.

Elda, I will miss our discussions. You are a deep thinker and a philosopher. You see the truth and you are persistent. I will lend you my camera anytime you want to see the world.

Chris, stop hiding in the shadows. You are smart, really smart. Step up and fight. I kept waiting for the moment when you would break out. It did not happen in my class, but I know what you can do, and so do you. Now do it.

Armen, you will be the first CEO with compassion and empathy for mankind. You will make money, lots of money, and you will reach your dreams. Just remember that poetry and capitalism can exist in the same soul.

Nyssa, you are a great writer. How many times have I said that since ninth grade? I loved reading your essays because of the way you said things. There you were, reading Shirley Jackson in my class. Nyssa, you always surprised me.

Nairi, I loved your passion. You were always part of the discussion, always with some insightful, thoughtful thing to say. Somewhere in the future, I see you arguing a case, making a statement, fighting for a cause. Keep fighting.

Rafi, yes, you have matured since ninth grade. I always thought you were joking with me. This year, though, I saw you for what you truly are: a serious, thoughtful man. Believe it or not, I really appreciated when you ask me how I was doing each day before class started. I think of the boy who lost his father, your strength; you are my hero.

Ashley, you almost were kept from being in my class. Thankfully, fate stepped in and here you are. I loved the way you would be silent, listening to everyone, and then raise your hand and just slay me with some incredibly insightful comment. I loved your razor-sharp truthfulness.

Narineh, I will forever see you as a dreamer. You were quiet in my class, but I knew you had strong opinions. I loved it when you shared them. I also knew that you were thinking because I could see it in the look in your eyes. There were so many facets to your character, and I feel I only saw a few of them.

Tamar, you infuriated me, challenged me, made me a better teacher. Strength should be your middle name. Thanks for the music and the recommendation. And thank you for being the strong and confident woman you are.

Serli, you entered my class a mature lady. You were integral to the class discussions, and I loved reading your work. Have a splendiferous, obsessively joyous, quantitatively spectacular life. In your writing, do not waste ink and always write what you feel. You did in my class, and that made all the difference.

Ani, the letter, the letter! Do you know, I sat at my desk after all of you left, and I just lost my equilibrium. You are right; I have not been myself these last months. But your words came at the perfect time. You are smart, tenacious, and you feel for others. Do not lose your compassion, your soul. I will remember you, too.

Talia, I thought your lecture to me about being more aggressive was so teacher-like. Your strength and intelligence will take you far, and I know you are capable of greatness. Your father would be proud, and if you would not mind, I will stand in for him and tell you that I am proud of you. Go get the world, girl.

Vatche, I drew strength from your words, your determination, your poise, your grace. I know you will find your dreams, and I will see you at the Festival of Books. Will you sign my copy of your book? Will you remember me? Thank you for being so wise.

“You are such a strong person for enduring the things you have in your life. I admire you for everything you have done and everything you continue to do.”

It is I who admire you, Ani.

I hope I have not let any of you down. I hope I have given you the best lessons, the best advice. I hope I have challenged you to think, to have opinions, to seize life by the throat.

Because while I was teaching you those things, you were teaching me.

“I remember you telling me that an essay or a book is a great one if years later you still remember the plot. I know you’re a good teacher because years from now I will still remember you.”

I remember when you entered my classroom in ninth grade. I remember our discussions, our arguments, and how sick of me all of you were at the end of eleventh grade.

This is the day for leaving, for moving on, for growing older, for realizing your dreams.

This is the first day of the rest of your lives.

This is the day I remember we must say goodbye.