Article Source: The Positive Observer

In a recent class, I had a student give a speech on second chances.  She talked on the rarity of getting the opportunity for a “do-over” in life.  And then I had another student, in the same class, tell us in her speech that she had found out who she really is in college.  After hearing these two speeches, I was reminded that a former professor told me that my students will learn more from me and my experiences, and how the experiences relate to the curriculum, than they ever will from a book or from taking notes.  I was also reminded that I told my students that I would give a speech in class as an example, or a template, that they could try and mirror. "The more I thought of these two speeches, the two themes rang true as they apply to most people, but for me, my experiences were quite the opposite."

Of course, if I went very far in sharing my own college experiences with the students, I would have to include an area of my life that, quite frankly, I don’t have great recollections of, and a time when I was not finding out who I was at all…a wonderful contrast to both topics.  And while I am sure my time in Statesboro at the University was what college is for most young men, I tend to think that maybe, just maybe, I over did it a bit, and I made some unbelievable stupid decisions, and I gave of myself, at times, to people who did not have my best interests at heart…not at all.  So no, for me, college wasn’t about finding out who I was.  For me, it was about finding out exactly who I was not.  And after I graduated, within just weeks, I was swept out of the college town I had known for so many years (about two too many years for the average college student), and to my chagrin, I landed in the place I had been swept out of years before graduating from college.  I was back home. 

Of course, I had dreamed of graduating and moving off to see exciting new places…to experience the world in the ways only a 25 year old could, but back home I would go.  And home wasn’t a bad place at all…beaches, breezes and sunshine everywhere…but it was excruciatingly familiar.  Not something I was ready to settle into.

Thankfully, I was rescued shortly after arriving back in Brunswick, GA.  Yes, thankfully two of my former roommates, and high school friends, needed a roommate on St. Simons Island.  And the third “thankfully” takes me back to my first couple of years in college…when we all lived together.  I realized that my friends apparently had as little memory of those days, if not less, than myself.  And clearly this had to be the case, because had they remembered even a small portion of our time in the same apartment in college, they would have never asked me to move in again.  I was not a good roommate on practically any level, although I could fry chicken at 2:00 in the morning.  I do remember that they all thought this ability was a worthy contribution.  I would imagine my old buddies have stories that could be complied in to a small library of my antics, which is why I’m not mentioning their names.  I’d hate for my perfect reputation to be shattered in my students’ eyes.

Regardless of their memories, it wasn’t until I moved in with these twenty-something partiers that I realized I had not been swept out of my college years at all.  It was that natural progression of life and moving on, and God had allowed me to go home to experience a few of those rare second chances.  More importantly, was a chance for me to show my old roommates a better person than they knew a few years prior.  And I don’t think I did half bad on the second chance, and I don’t think we had a half bad time on St. Simons Island during those few years in the late 90’s.  I was thankful for that time.  I cherished it, because I knew just how quickly the opportunity would pass.  I suppose the lesson in all of this is that on rare occasions, we do get second chances.  But don’t expect them.  Live like you won’t ever get a do over, because we rarely do.  I was one of the few lucky ones, and I still am, because that college town I was swept out of is now the place I got swept back in to, and that college I raised so much hell at…well, that would be where I work.  I’m in the same place where I found out the first time who I was not.  But as second chances would have it, I’m now getting to find out who I actually am, and this would be the perfect time to be thankful for it.  When your students bring you peace and clarity and take your mind to lightened places, that’s how you know you are doing your job.  That’s how you know you are a teacher.