Spring 2020: Open Letter to My Students

Dear Students–past and present,

You inspire me and give me hope for the future. Whether you are graduating or not this semester, the spring of 2020 has been unlike any before and the gift of connecting with you through our coursework has been a blessing. Although I’ve been on lockdown due to COVID-19 since mid-March on my own–except for my cat, of course–I have never once felt alone or lonely. In large part that is because of our connection through your words on the page and via Zoom.

As many of us turn to the Graduate Together celebrations starting today, May 16th, 2020, I thought I’d give you my own thoughts. Of utmost importance, is understanding that one person can make a difference. This remarkable event was prompted by the brilliant dream of 17-year-old high school student, Lincoln Debenham, who envisioned that President Obama could deliver a virtual commencement address to all 2020 graduating seniors. His social media campaign, with the hashtag #ObamaCommencement2020, went viral and tonight, that address is happening. His action started a movement that now will benefit all students everywhere. He made a difference and so can you. In the spirit of this virtual motivation, although I’m not famous like the Obamas, nor nearly as eloquent, I have had an unusual path and perhaps it might give you confidence that if I can make it and succeed, so can you.

The truth is, I never graduated from high school. I’ve never attended a prom and I’ve never walked for graduation. I like to say I’m a high school drop out, although that is not entirely true either. I attended a Catholic high school for freshman year and felt out of place because it was my first time in a private school, and I didn’t know how to find a place in the social networks that most had been forming since kindergarten. I struggled to find myself in that environment and did poorly academically and emotionally. My best friend, Eve, went to a different school and I never made a better friend than her and was a bit untethered without her amazing friendship.

For my sophomore year, I transferred back to the public school system which was more familiar. That particular school, however, was in a part of town that attracted many students from rich families who had also known each other for years. I was not popular and did not really enjoy that year. I did not do particularly well academically at that high school either. It is worth noting that in elementary school, I was an excellent student, but that all started to wane in middle school–Junior High as we used to call it–when I failed at the mastery of navigating a new set of students in search of a friend. I lacked self-esteem and self-confidence and still struggle with building those skills to this day.

Towards the end of my sophomore year, I somehow learned about the California High School Proficiency Exam, similar to our current GED, and asked my parents if I could take it and leave high school early. The only requirements were to have parental consent and to be at least 16 years of age. To my surprise, they agreed on the condition that I attend Community College instead until I was eighteen. I did and it was basically high school with ashtrays (yes, people could smoke at school in the early 1980s) and while I completed a few required courses, I filled up the rest of my schedule with classes like tap dancing and theater makeup. My grades, however, went back up and I even made the honor roll once or twice in those two years.

Once I turned 18, I took what we might now call a gap year. In my case, it was perhaps more of a canyon year. In the fall of 1982, I travelled around the USA and Canada by Greyhound bus for several months with savings from after school jobs I’d had since I was 14. I then worked a couple jobs and saved my money so I could travel more, further. By June of 1983 I was on my way to Hawaii where I found jobs crewing on sail boats, as my eldest sister Alexandria–the person who motivated my travels–had done some years earlier. And these weren’t jobs on sailboats around the Hawaiian Islands, no, that would be too normal. These were long haul trips; from Hawaii to Tahiti, from Tahiti to the Cook Islands, from the Cook Islands to Western Samoa and then American Samoa, from American Samoa on to Tonga and eventually to Fiji where I then took a plane to New Zealand. Those trips covered the span of an ocean and nearly nine months of a year.

After hitch hiking around New Zealand (please dear readers, do not try this on your own) I flew to Australia with US$20 in my pocket which I exchanged for local Australian currency and then used whatever coins I got to call everyone who’d given me a number for their family in Sydney, Australia until someone agreed I could stay with them for a few days. Times felt safer then (they probably weren’t) and I was young and trusted the humans implicitly. I worked a few jobs in Australia and then went back for a winter in New Zealand, then back to Australia and eventually, after nearly two years away, back to the United States.

Finally, in 1985, I returned to school where I eventually earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in International Relations. Only later, much later–in 2014 at the age of 50 to be specific–would I return to earn my Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing and Literature.

I share all of this to show just how far off the path of academia I strayed. I don’t know what I was looking for in those early years of traveling, but I learned a lot about myself and that I was a survivor. These are not lessons that are taught in a classroom, but they are critical. Travel is an education unto itself and if you can facilitate it, I highly recommend it. Traveling solo is peak level learning on your feet and if you can facilitate it, I also highly recommend that.

In retrospect, I was extremely naïve, but at the time I thought I knew all about everything, but, of course, I didn’t. We were fairly independent in many ways in our homelife as children. Some might rephrase that to say we were occasionally neglected. Semantics. But the truth is that while we learned invaluable coping skills that have served us all well into adulthood, none of us learned the basic skills needed in life, at least I didn’t, from our parents. I didn’t know how to cook. I didn’t know how to clean a house, although I could fold laundry, even the dreaded fitted sheet. I didn’t know how to manage my money or the true value of what I had. There were so many things that I didn’t understand about adulting and some that I’m still figuring out today.

While I had certainly had many obstacles to overcome–those are for another essay­–I’d never had to manage my own survival. I always had a roof over my head, clothes to wear and food to eat. I had no idea how lucky I was. Life was simpler then in so many ways, yet I still didn’t know those basic skills. I’m still learning as life continues to deliver lessons, even now.

As we’ve moved through this surreal semester of Spring 2020, I’ve been reminded of how important those basic lessons are and I suspect that despite everything, due to this global pandemic, many of you are learning those lessons by necessity, if you hadn’t already. One thing I know you’ve been learning is time management. Being forced into navigating online learning is not easy. It has not been easy for me as your instructor and I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been easy for you either. But as your spokesperson from old people land, time management is one of the most important things you can learn. We all have 24 hours in our day, it is how we use them that matters.

In the months and years to come, reflect on this time and what you have learned about yourself. You have accomplished remarkable things while being stuck at home. You’ve learned how to adapt to a confined space, you’ve learned how to manage your time both personally and for school, you’ve learned more about your families both good and bad, and you’ve learned what you are capable of which is a lot.

Plan for how you can change the future and what your role will be in putting the world back together once we return from this global pandemic to some semblance of normal life. What would you like to see change? How can you make a change, however small, to make life better? What is your true passion­–the thing you’d do even without a salary–and how can you incorporate that into a meaningful life that will sustain you economically as well as emotionally and intellectually? Who are you going to be when you go back outside? You’re not the same person you were when you when into lockdown in March. You are different now, you’re stronger.

Whatever you choose to do in life, make sure it serves your purpose of being a happy person because as they say, you can’t give what you don’t have. If you don’t meet your own needs, you can’t help others. From my 56 years on earth, I truly believe that the happiest people are the ones who use their skills and gifts to help others in whatever way that manifests. Be grateful for what you have and give back whatever you can. You’ll be happier for it in the end.

I believe in you, dear student, and I hope you’ve learned even a fraction of what I’ve learned from you. Put on your face covering and go forward and conquer the world. And don’t forget to wash your hands.