Finding my place

One of the risks I took when I decided to come to graduate school at IU was the possibility that I'd end up running into some of my former students. After spending six years teaching in Elkhart, Ind., I was a bit worried -- justifiably, I think -- that I might end up being a little embarrassed or maybe even a little beat up if I happened to run into somebody I had in class.\n"Remember that D you gave me in freshman English, Mr. Troyer?"\nOh, I remember, all right. Sir.\nThe first couple of months I was here, I saw a few people around who had suffered through vocabulary exercises and five-paragraph essays at my hands a few years ago. Needless to say, I've kept a pretty low profile while I've been here.\nBut earlier this week, I ran into a former student from Elkhart while I was at work at the education library. Happily, I hadn't had this particular young man in one of my classes, so I figured I was reasonably safe from bodily injury. \nWe had a nice conversation and talked about many of the other students from Elkhart who are here in Bloomington. After we parted, I discovered I didn't feel threatened by anybody we'd talked about, and instead felt something else entirely.\nOld.\nMaybe it was because this particular student is now a senior and maybe it was because one of my supervisors at the library turned 23 this week. But mostly, I felt old because there's a bittersweet sort of pride in seeing someone you knew as a young person grow into a successful adult.\nAs a teacher, I often wanted to pull my hair out, wondering if some of my students had been raised near power lines. The truth of the matter is, though, that most people succeed regardless of the best efforts and worst injustices perpetrated by their high school teachers. \nIn this realization, there is both great relief and great melancholy: relief that speculations about family gene pools and ineptitude in printer repair weren't taken to heart ... and melancholy in the realization that the optimism and enthusiasm of college life are wonderful gifts, but they've passed you by.\nAs much as I strive to taste a bit of the youth found in big-college student life, facts are facts. "Old School" was just a movie, and I'm not about to start a fraternity for sexually frustrated thirty-somethings and brain-dead burnouts.\nInstead, I go to all the football games and waddle around the track on Woodlawn Field from time to time. I laugh when I hear all the unprintable observations shouted from the stands at the stadium and get passed on the track by groups of girls who weigh what I did when I was a fetus.\n I don't mean to bore anybody with an old fogey's sob story. Instead, I'm starting to think about all the people I know who are working hard, partying hard and becoming sources of pride for people like me who are making different discoveries about their place in life. \nSuddenly, I don't feel nervous at all when I think about all the Joes, Matts, Sabrinas, Chrises and Andrews I run into around campus. Instead, I'm learning to revel in the steps they're taking toward adulthood, and hopefully, happiness. Heck, I'm even happy for all my former students who are stuck in West Lafayette.\nAnd that old fogey's realization is something I hope brings happiness to others.\nReach for the stars, folks. Somewhere, somebody is proud of you.