And overcoming shame

*

We were a month into the fall semester of 1987. It was my second year teaching at Luther College. As usual, I arrived fifteen minutes early, full of nervous energy. I wrote a couple of announcements on the chalkboard and sat in the chair by the window.

The twelve students enrolled in The Legislative Process drifted in and settled with books, pens, and notebooks arrayed around the table.

I started with a mini-lecture to develop the context of that day’s subject matter and reading. Then I asked them a question about the reading assignment. This was a reticent group, even though they were all 3rd and 4th-year students. Their quietness frustrated me. After the second question, with no response, I asked, “How many of you haven’t read the assignment.” Four raised their hands.

“I’ll see you four next class. Please come with the assignment read. I expect everyone to come to class ready to discuss the reading. That’s the only way we can learn together,” I explained.

The guilty four silently gathered their belongings and filed out.

Dreams and a regret

I regretted what I had done before they left the room. In my ten years as a teacher, first in middle school and then in college classrooms, I had never kicked a kid out. I hadn’t planned to kick them out. My job was to teach, and I couldn’t do that if they were not in class. I felt I had failed them. They deserved better. I vowed never to do this again.

This event troubled me so much that for over 30 years, I have had a recurring dream of four students filing past me as they left a classroom. I had this dream a few nights ago. When I woke up this time, I remembered one of the students from this class lives in town. He works as a chiropractor, and I frequently walk by his building.

“Why not contact David?” I thought. So I found his email and reached out to him, asking if he remembered that day.

He responded.

“I remember the entire events of that day. If you’d like me to relate them to you. I would be OK to sit with a coffee and talk about them. I was fortunate enough to have done the reading!”

Reconnecting

David met me with his hand extended as I entered the coffee shop. He was dressed in black scrubs. We ordered coffee and settled into a corner table.

“Thanks for being willing to meet me,” I said. “I’ve never forgotten that day. I always felt I failed those students.”

“Actually, I liked what you did,” he said. “I thought you did the right thing. You showed us through your actions what it means to be a serious student. And that actions have consequences.”

We then spent two hours catching up. What a gift it was to talk with a former student at midlife about how his life had turned out! His daughter had just graduated from Luther. My son, also a Luther graduate, now works at the Co-op. David told me he was the first chiropractor to join one of Decorah’s regional health clinics. I said I was still teaching Life Long Learning courses.

The time flew by.

As we left, we shook hands and agreed to stay in touch.

Urgency of closure

One of the joys of being 73 is the urgency of closure. It’s easy to put things off when you are young. Less so at this point in life. My shame over kicking those students out had dogged me for decades. Holding on to it festered. My recurring dream would not let me off the hook. It was like a good friend sitting on my front porch, encouraging me to face my fear and neglect.

All along, I could have reached out to David. Once I did, he offered another way to look at this event. That balanced my harsh judgment. He reminded me to be kinder to myself. And reconnecting with David encouraged me to think of other wounds that need resolution.

What about you?

Do you have a regret that might benefit from another point of view?

If there is a conversation you have been putting off, take a chance. Reach out. Be bold. Seize the opportunity.

You won’t regret it!