Last month I participated in my first graduation as an RMC
teacher. Granted, I didn’t do much; I showed up to the Arie
Crown Theater, put on my cap and gown, and sat on stage hidden
behind several rows of individuals throughout the ceremony.
However, it was an exciting experience. After attending a
number of graduations as a student, I got the chance to see it
from the teacher’s perspective. And with my prior experience,
I finally had the common sense to appreciate the moment
going into the event.
In December 2004, I graduated from Lewis University in
Romeoville, IL with a B.A. in English. I attended graduation
for a number of reasons. I wanted to go for my family’s sake;
they wanted to see me walk across the stage. I also went
because I wanted to be with all of my college friends one last
time as a group before we all vanished down our own roads in
life. Contrarily, I didn’t attend so that I could celebrate an
accomplishment, because I didn’t feel like I had accomplished
anything. I wasn’t a first-generation college student, nor was I
the first child in my family to get a college degree. I also never
felt like I worked that hard in college. I graduated with honors
and won several academic awards, but I felt like I skated
through without ever giving my best effort. And Brother Owen
was the perfect example.
Lewis University is a Catholic and Lasallian university and
some of the classes are taught by Christian Brothers. Br. Owen
was one of the English professors, and one of my absolute
favorite teachers. He introduced me to my favorite author
(Fyodor Dostoevsky), one of my favorite books (Ripley Bogle
by Robert McLiam Wilson), and he was very funny in class,
always telling stories about his life that related tangentially to
the class discussions. It is perhaps thanks to him that I am open
to being a storyteller in class now that I’m a teacher.
While I often felt like I wasn’t giving my best effort in
school, Br. Owen was also the only teacher I ever felt like I
personally let down. I had several courses with him, my last
one being Irish Literature during my final semester. I took the
course, because it sounded interesting and I really liked being
in his classes. I normally would be the one sitting in front, listening
attentively, and raising my hand constantly – something
I rarely did in my other courses.
However, during that time I was working full-time, seven
days-a-week, and in the middle of the night. I would come to
school like a zombie, tired and unprepared. I never raised my
hand and the quality of my work deteriorated. Several weeks
into the semester, Br. Owen pulled me aside and asked what
was going on. I told him about my job and he understood, but
I could tell he was disappointed. I was disappointed, too. I
tried to increase my effort, and I did get a B in the class, but I
felt like a failure.
But during graduation, something happened. I went
through the motions, walked across the stage, got my picture
taken, but the whole time I was thinking more about where to
have dinner afterwards and about how I wanted to smack the
two people in front of me who were playing with their cell
phones. After all the students received their diplomas, everyone
in attendance stood and began cheering and applauding.
The teachers also stood. I looked down the line at all of the
professors I had over those four years and when I saw Br.
Owen, I stopped. We smiled at each other.
Suddenly, I realized I hadn’t really let him down. And
beyond that, I realized I had accomplished something. I was
now in a select group – not everyone gets a college degree.
Not everyone even gets the chance to try. Yet here I was, diploma
in hand, about to leave campus and go into the real world
with the approval and support of those people who got me
there.
A few years later, I returned to Lewis University, but this
time as a teacher. Br. Owen was one of the teachers who wrote
a recommendation for me to get into graduate school and
eventually it led to me being his colleague rather than his student.
He passed me in the hallway when I first came to campus
to interview for the job. When I told him why I was there,
he jokingly grabbed his chest like he was in shock that the
school would dare call me in for an interview. But he congratulated
and told me he was excited that I was back.
Br. Owen passed away this past December from cancer. He
was 65. It came as a complete shock. He was still teaching during
the previous semester and every time we saw each other,
he was always as nice and cheerful as ever.
As I took in the RMC graduation, I was getting goose
bumps from the joy of the occasion. And directly after the ceremony
as the instructors lined up backstage and the graduates
walked past us, I watched as the students ran up to their
favorite teachers to shake their hand or give them a hug.
Whether the students realized it or not, they had accomplished
something great by getting through college. And each time a
student and teacher connected backstage with a smile or hug,
I was happy to see how proud those students were and just
how proud the teachers are of them. Now, I hope all of those
students will go into the world and to continue to make everyone
proud.