At the end of our last Spanish class for the semester, a few of the students stayed behind to chat and visit for a few minutes. They were an excellent group and had interacted well throughout the semester. Many of them thanked me for a good class, which I always appreciate.
One student, Sam, we’ll call him, said something I’ve never heard before and it shocked me in a way that few comments from a student have in 16 years of teaching.
“You’re the first instructor at university to learn my name,” he said. “I really appreciate that.”
I reeled in disbelief.
“What year are you in?” I asked.
“Third year,” he replied. “I’m on schedule to graduate next year.”
“What’s your major?” I probed further.
“Sciences. This is the only class I’ve ever had that has fewer than 100 people in it. None of the other profs learn our names. I suppose they can’t with that many students.”
I nodded in agreement. My classes have grown in size since I started teaching and with 35 students this year, it took me longer than usual to learn everyone’s name.
He went on to say, “I want to be a science teacher, but not here. I want to work in a place where I can get to know my students. This place is a factory.”
Not wanting to enter a discussion on the state of post-secondary institutions today, I simply remarked that I thought he had many qualities that would make him a good teacher.
He’s got good, solid grades and comes to class on a regular basis. He’s interested and engaged, polite and congenial. He’s got a decent work ethic and works well with other students in class. His classmates like him and he gets along with just about everyone. He’s not a super-duper genius, and nor is he a complete trouble maker. That’s part of the trouble, I suppose. Not being at the far end of either side of the scale, he gets lost in the crowd.
How sad… this student pays thousands of dollars a year in tuition for higher education and even as he approaches graduation, almost no one knows his name.
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