Little Traces
A Chapbook
Passing the Torch
Thirteen years out of college (Tarrant County Junior College, then North Texas State University, which has since had a name change) and living in Bellingham, I watched as my then-husband, his twin (my brother-in-law) and his wife one by one began taking classes at Whatcom Community College....
It wasn't on the beautiful campus where it is situated now; it had a main campus over on Marine Drive that was converted from a grocery store and several satellite campuses around the county. With two young sons, and to my memory, only a wish to compete with the adult members of my little Bellingham family motivating me, I signed up for classes at Whatcom Community College.
Attending Whatcom Community College put me on a trajectory to something, rather than leaving me to blow about in the wind, as friends and family liked to characterize me. I had not been one of those people I so admired, those who know, from a young age, what they really want to do and so forge on and do it, in spite of the difficulties or the odds against them. I never really felt like I was one of those people, though. I wanted to do everything, all the time, and right now; I was impetuous and had undiagnosed ADD.
Teaching at Whatcom Community College. What can I say about it? I have been teaching at WCC for twenty-one years, and this is my last quarter teaching as an Adjunct—a title with no clout, and a job with no guarantees. Yet soon after I left Northwest Indian College and dedicated myself to WCC, I was able to become benefited, meaning that I now had a steady job (in spite of the troubling aspect of the quarterly contracts) (Thank you, Jennifer Bullis!) I want to say that teaching at WCC saved my life, but that would not only be too cliché, it wouldn't be exactly true. In spite of myself, I had become a person who would admit what she wanted (to be a writer) and who would not immediately run away from an opportunity just because it was scary, so I had a hand in saving my own life.
I had a first, horrible interview at WCC and didn’t get a job right after completing my Masters. Needing something to shift, I then completed two years as a VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America), working creatively with women on welfare. VISTA pays a monthly stipend and did not take away the small welfare check we were surviving on, or impact my housing assistnace. At the end, it repaid a large chunk of my student loans, as well.
I’m so thankful to my dear friend Wendy Borgesen, who bugged me incessantly until I applied for the adjunct teaching position at WCC after that. With little fanfare, and only two kind women interviewing me (thank you Sherri Winans and Jennifer Bullis!), I got the job.
I had the credentials.
I graduated Cum Laude with my B.A.
I had completed my M.A., writing a collection of fiction for my thesis. I had done my reading.
I was teaching at Northwest Indian College. (want to say thank you in Lummi, must find spelling!
But these things didn't help me to know that I was good enough, just as I was, to be a teacher and that I had something to give to the students that was worthwhile. That part of my work has taken me the entire twenty-one years to learn.
It is not easy being an adjunct professor, for many reasons, but I am here to talk about who taught me that I am good enough to teach, and that I have something to share. Of course it was the students that taught me these things, and my many colleagues, whether teachers or others at WCC who took the time to be kind. (Thank you friends and colleagues!)
So here I would like to pass a candle to each of my students, and a torch to future teachers.
I pass this candle to each of my students.
It has the power of the good-enough student. The candle is a power color red, or it is a compassion color, blue, but either way, it has a steady blue and yellow flame. It does not go out when you are feeling overwhelmed; it just flickers a little now and then to let you know it's there. It is here now, in your hand, and it's guiding your way. You can set it down or pick it up whenever you need to; it will keep burning, because it is fueled by your own wishes for a better life for yourself and your loved ones and a better world for all. When you are working hard on some project you love, it will blaze, and when it blazes it will forge the love of learning in your heart. When you complete work that you love, and even work that you do not love at all, but saw the need to complete anyway, it will give off a special glow. Bask while you can! We don't get to be in school forever . . . unless we teach.
I pass this torch for future teachers* Its golden flame emanates from an energetic blue ball of fire.
It does not go out when you are afraid, or discouraged. If you ever feel you are not a good enough teacher, its flame will decrease, but its warmth will wrap around you and hold you, and whisper with its fiery tongue, “You are so good enough.” When you stand in front of your first class of students or your fiftieth, it will burn steady and give you confidence. When you go home, exhausted and wondering at how you can make it better, more organized, easier or as good as (someone else's teaching), the torch will soften its glow, and remind you that your work is more than your job, and that part of your work is to take care of yourself in this world.
* (I especially want to thank my intern this quarter, Mariah Sebastiani!)*