Today I met with a student who seemed surly from the get-go.
She spoke in a moody, attitude-y tone of voice, showing little interest in my
enthusiastic attempts to help her plan classes, understand her Math and English
placement, and break down her degree requirements. This student is currently
taking non-credit Adult Basic Education classes and, after completing the
COMPASS test, has placed into credit-bearing developmental Math and English.
Although certainly an improvement, she seemed nothing short of discouraged and
annoyed by the fact that she was not yet placing at college-level. I did my
best to hang in there with her throughout the appointment, clarifying college
processes and helping her navigate her options more thoroughly than usual. Nevertheless, I thought she was going to
leave my office in apathy, with no plans to follow through on my
recommendations, never to be seen again.
When the appointment was somewhere near 85% complete, I looked
at a buried portion of her transcript and noticed that she had actually taken a
few college-level social science classes several years back at another community
college. In most of them, she barely scraped by. But in one seemingly heavy
History course, she earned a 3.0. This may not sound that impressive to most
people, but in comparison to many of the students I advise, especially those
who are coming from basic skills and developmental courses, it was superb. Before
she left my office, she verbalized a somewhat dejected wish that the next
quarter would go well, especially since she was taking another college-level
social science course for the first time in years. I said simply, “Well, you
rocked your History course, so you know you can do it.” To my surprise, a
satisfied smirk inched across her face. If I could translate her expression
into words, it would say, “Yeah, I really can do this.” I got the sense that it
had been some time since someone reinforced her ability and potential—not just
on their terms, as in, “I know you
can do it!”—but on her terms. She then requested to schedule a follow-up
appointment with me, which escalated my surprise to pure delight.
After this student left, I realized that she was in one of
the classes I had visited recently to talk about transitioning from Adult Basic
Education into college. I recalled seeing her sitting in the far corner of the
room, not participating or asking questions throughout most of my interactive
presentation, and bearing the same sullen look I had seen her enter my office
with. At the time, I had thought she was ill-mannered and, if I’m being honest,
the type of student I was dreading to encounter in my outreach. Similar to how
she warmed up at the last moment during our one-on-one appointment, I
remembered she had offered up an astute response to a question that stumped all
the other students toward the end of my presentation. Thus far, she is the only
student from the class who has come to meet with me.
This is the kind of experience that makes me love my job. It
is completely fulfilling to see students in positive transformation, even as
subtle as this. For a young woman to enter our interaction exhibiting palpable
skepticism, disillusionment, and listlessness and then leave with noticeable
hope, confidence, and initiative is, to me, just awesome. To have any part in
these small, and hopefully ongoing, transformations certainly gratifies my own
need to feel purposeful and helpful. But more than that, it educates and
humbles me to realize that my initial judgments of students can be entirely
off-base. That individuals who have likely faced repeated barriers and
disappointments in their lives are still willing to keep trying. They maintain
a belief in their own capacity to succeed; they are simply waiting for others
to do the same and to empower them to realize it.
