Week four of the semester is generally a difficult one; tests, papers, and overflowing schedules combine and create stressed students and busy teachers. Luckily, I'm both.
JB introduced me to The Moth last year. Basically, it's a storytelling event. He goes every month and graciously allows me to climb into his car whenever I would like to go along. It's a very positive character trait, I think. Since he introduced me to The Moth, I've used it in my classes and encouraged students to attend.
Last night was the February Moth event. I, along with another friend, hopped into the CARDIS and journeyed through the frozen wasteland of Milwaukee. Arriving at the theatre, we found seats and were huddling together for warmth when I was tapped on the shoulder.
Six of my students from last semester were there. They had come as a group, riding the bus for half an hour then walking the rest of the way through the frigid air.
It was a flurry of greetings, reminiscence, and laughter.
"I miss our English class."
"It was eight, so I wasn't expecting it, but we had fun."
"Can I have retroactive extra credit if I tell a story tonight?"
"You'll know my story when you hear it. You'll know it's me."
We met up again at intermission and at the end of the evening. It was wonderful to see them. They were my students. Now they're a group - choosing to spend time together - choosing to spend time together hearing stories and absorbing language.
I wish I could take credit for being an amazing teacher that has given these students something concrete, but I can't. And maybe I shouldn't want to. Those students and I spent a semester together, and, somehow, that wasn't the end of our stories. Our stories have been impacted, an ongoing transformation.
