I'm Back!!

Hello, again.  

I should explain. When I began this blog, 11 years ago in early 2009, I had recently retired from teaching writing at BYU.  For the third time. So some did not believe I would stick with it.  But I did.  I did. And I have never stopped grieving the loss of the classroom, while at the same time, I must advmit, simultaneously enjoying the loss of grading the hearts and souls of beloved students via their writing. And then, in June 2009, (not)curiously at the very moment this blog ceased, I embarked upon something else: what would become a 10.5-year stint as an elderly version of what I have always least enjoyed being: an editor. Side effect of which: I have written almost nothing of my own for a long time.  And now as I am about to turn 72 years old ... time's a wastin.  

First off ... I don't have any really young former students anymore, probaby none under 30, many in their 60s, even 70s, so the lid's off on an sense of age frame for this blog. Eternity's here.

What I did during the past decade-plus was both immensely rewarding and incredibly exhausting. The subject of another blogpost ... perhaps on my other blog, Equivocalogical. For now, I want to pick up where I ended here, with the following draft I wrote in late summer of 2009 but never got around to refining and posting.  It seems important to lead with this.

Once upon a time I had a student named Mike. Of course I've had many students named Mike. I have two cousins and a son named Mike. Michael is a good and noble name, and it is most fitting that the hero of this tale has such a name.

This particular Mike, a freshman, was a gentle, eager soul. Very bright. Sat front and center in the classroom and drank it all in. His presence and manner cheered me, encouraged me. Not to exaggerate: gave me strength. One day he told me that by standards he had read about, I was the perfect teacher, because I had passion for what I taught and showed affection for my students. I loved Mike.

Later in the semester something else happened. Someone I cared about very much, a former student from long before, rang me up for a lunch date. During the course of which I discovered that he had fallen into strange and dangerous notions. The matter consumed me, infected my classroom presentations, which turned (even more than usual) into sermons. It was urgent, imperative, that all within the sound of my voice be prepared to avoid such errors in thought as those to which my ancien élève had fallen.

Over time I noticed that Mike seemed troubled. I figured he was just sharing my concerns, and on I went.  Then, one day Mike spoke up: "Sister Thayer." He interrupted me, without even politely raising his hand as was his wont. Mentally, maybe audibly, I gasped. There was authority in his gaze: "While you're teaching us the truth, will you please remember that you love us."

I'm quite certain that many people have wanted to say that to me over the course of my life. Only Mike dared. Mike, Mike, wherever you are, I thank you. And given that I so clearly recall, why can't I remember?!?

When I wrote this in 2009 I could not have imagined what lay ahead. For me personally.  For the world out there.  I mean.  I come from an era in which one must use "masculine" singular pronouns for both (all) genders, because making an error in number was a really bad thing, which your (female) English teacher insisted upon teaching you to avoid. (I still "write around" the issue whenever possible.)

Women. (Or is this sexist?) Anybody out there who has absolutely NO "me too" incident lurking in the past? Anybody ever feel re-assaulted by an assertion that "you should have spoken up and saved the next victim"?  Anybody absolutely sure that your motives either in speaking or remaining silent were NOT based in love? 

You fellow "firm as the mountains aound us" people.  Anybody out there who has NO ONE close to you who no longer shares your most cherished religious beliefs? How are you at being consistently loving in your interactions with these them?

People who can still endure thinking about politics.  Anyone who DOESN'T have friends or at least acquaintences among both ardent Trump supporters and avid Bernie champions.  (Maybe this doesn't apply if you don't live in Utah.)  

Sigh. In a sense this post does belong on the "proving contraries" blog.  And perhaps this is a sign that I need to combine the two blogs.  And I'm far away from the classroom now. Not a teacher.  Not a discussion leader. Just an old lady with her mind in a pretty much "wow" of dismay.  

However, the point in raising them here is to raise a more fundamental issue than "how do we find out who is wrong".