In Which the Prof Discovers a Grand-student

This is my twelfth year at Mondoville, which is a long time in some respects, but a very short one in others. Yesterday, I had something happen that has not to my knowledge happened to me before.

My freshpeeps are working on a paper — a response to Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man Is Hard to Find.” At the end of class, one young woman said to me, “You know, I read this in high school. My English teacher was a student of yours.” I felt my eyebrows rise, and asked who her teacher had been. She told me, and thank Heaven, it was a student I remembered well (and with whom I stay in touch via Facebook.) We talked about the former student a bit, and then my current student said, “Yeah, she told me to take your class.” And after another pleasantry or two, she and I went our separate directions.

As I think about it this morning, I realized that although I talk about my job sustaining the stories, poems, and tactics of good writing for another generation or two, I really hadn’t absorbed the idea that I might be part of some sort of legacy. I’m teaching the students of my students now. Eventually, I may teach the children of my students (not that uncommon in the lower grades, but an experience I haven’t had yet.)

It’s a little frightening, but it’s also pretty cool, and one of the nicer things about having decided to bloom where I’m planted, here in Mondoville.

About profmondo

Dad, husband, mostly free individual, medievalist, writer, and drummer. "Gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche."
This entry was posted in Education, Literature, Why I Do What I Do. Bookmark the permalink.

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