Sorrow makes us all children again….

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yesterday, I judged applicants seeking a place on the college debate team. All of them risked a memory of failure and gave of themselves in earnest to become better as scholars, speakers and friends of their own success. And I was tasked with deciding which of these students, all of whom I admire and unavoidably care for, would be asked to sit out their desire.

I don’t agree that learning through failure is a required part of any student’s curriculum. They are not employees, they are children orphaned to astonishment, passion and fear. They begin their short orbits in a new life surrounded by teachers–who can, with a single touch or softly spoken word, change their paths forever. Sometimes.

I can remember hundreds of my students; I can tell you where many of them sat in classrooms that may no longer even exist. I can tell you how lightly or heavily my pen fell upon names on the final grade report and why I judged them as I did…

I remember most, those students who replenished my love for teaching when I had lost the courage to further their goals or provoke a hint of change. Tonight, I am at an intersection of rage and bewilderment because one of those precious few chose to fall away from us so fast that no one could react in time to catch her.

A thespian, scholar, and delightful master of the ascerbic, she was one of the original founders and ideas makers for the Blog of Dreams. She was accepted to study in America, but denied a visa because of the immigration status problems inherent in acceptance to the Disney Internship Program  where she spent a summer. She was subsequently denied a visa to attend Cornell, but kept her suitcase packed with dreams of travel and learning. I don’t know what changed or what could have tempted her to change her plans.

Dear Defiant Chennie,

I am a child again tonight. I want so much to believe that I misunderstood the news of your death. I want to wish your awkward avalanches of laughter back to invoke the best in me again. I want you to give us all another chance to raise your inner landscape high enough to break your fall.

Your teacher knows nothing, but this: You are now without passports, beyond borders And I hope you are on to some new opportunity, guided now by accomplished, and enduring angels.

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