el peregringo

Todd (not his real name) was a pain in the ass in my class for two years. He was one of those kids who knew everything already, had all the answers, and couldn’t be bothered to try to see things any other way. Of course his experience was somewhat local, but that didn’t slow the universal pronouncements. He had a tendency to bully others who disagreed with him–in class or out, but he was right after all, so it didn’t really matter. He was gonna get out of town just as soon as he graduated, join an elite military force, and set the world straight. Except for one thing, I might have dreaded teaching any class he was in.

Todd was me in many respects. Every day I’d see him and in him see so much of what I once was: a reasonably bright kid from a small conservative town who knew that that which he knew as “normal” was by definition “right.” Anything that was different from that “norm” was “queer” (though now, my students say “gay”).

On several occasions I tried talking to Todd. I know that I hated “advice” when I was a young guy–I knew better after all–so Todd responded pretty much as I would have. He essentially rejected everything, but I still had to try. Instead of pushing advice, I basically made a few predictions for his future. That was pretty straightforward–just like reading my subtly modified autobiography to him. He didn’t seem to pay attention, but then neither did I when I was in a similar position.

Life, as it has a way of doing, stepped in both of our cases, and made it pretty clear that that certainty we held dear, was nothing but an illusion, and maybe even nothing more than a defense mechanism. In my case, I got on a plane to Central America to work as an archeologist. I learned directly what it was like to be the odd one living with a new “norm.” In Todd’s case, he blew out his knee and suddenly an elite military force was no longer an option.

Todd came to see me today now that I am back teaching. He’s been through some rough times with substance abuse, depression and thoughts of suicide. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Turns out he watched a man die–someone he tried to save but couldn’t. He came to tell me that when he took a couple of weeks off from work after the incident, he got in his car and drove with no destination in mind. He had a few bucks in the bank and found himself in the southwest. As he told me the story, he was lying on the hood of his car, watching the sun rise in New Mexico, and some of the things I had told him ran through his mind. Things that had happened to him since high school, mistakes he now realized he had made, and damn it, it all seemed to line up pretty closely with some of my predictions. He watched the sun rise, got back in his car, and drove home to Vermont and came to see me.

These moments in time with students and former students are the fuel which gets me out of bed at 5 am every day to prepare and review lessons. I earn 1/3 of what I used to make in the tech world, but today, Todd just made me the richest man in Vermont.