We've reached the final two weeks of classes for the spring semester, which means two things:
1) It's fair game for a snowfall, which is exactly what happened earlier this week across central Pennsylvania as if one final shipment of snow was being delivered late. (You know, supply chain issues.)
2) Everyone is tired. Students are tired. Professors are tired. All the people are tired.
I make a habit of offering my students end-of-semester pep talks, reminding them that they're covering distance as they keep putting one foot ahead of the next, encouraging them that the finish line will soon be within sight, declaring that they can do this -- that they can do hard things. It's not uncommon for me to notice students nodding along, visibly reinforcing for themselves what I'm speaking over them, and on occasion, like this past week, I even catch a student wipe their eyes as defenses come down and their exhaustion slips out in the form of a few unbidden tears.
Don't we all need encouragement when we're running and we're weary? Don't we all want to know that someone notices our effort and is cheering us on? Don't we all hope to hear someone tell us "you've got this" when we doubt our strength or capacity to go out and get it?
The funny thing is that I'm used to offering this encouragement, not necessarily receiving it. During the past week, though, I've received unexpected notes of encouragement that have put wind in my own sails. One message came from a student I had ten years ago. He emailed out of the blue, expressing that he had been cleaning out a closet and stumbled upon a folder filled with essays and assignments from my class. "I admit, my undergrad is all
a bit of a blur," he wrote. "I can look at my transcript and remember my classes
but the names and faces of those who taught me are for the most part all
forgotten. Yet, I’ve never once forgotten you or your class. It may
have been 'just an elective' I had to take to 'check off another box' to
graduate, but it was a pivotal experience in my academic and personal
growth."
I was floored. Humbled, really. What a gift for him to not just think these thoughts, but to take a moment to write them to me. It made me wonder, how often do I think nice things about people, but neglect to take the next necessary step and tell them? It reminds me of the adage: "Unexpressed gratitude is like winking at someone in the dark. You know what you think of them, but they don't."
At this eleventh hour in the semester, I feel fresh motivation. I'm encouraged to pay it forward and tell others when I think well of them. Some compliments we hold within our hearts and heads are too good to remain there. There's simple power in a compliment that's actually spoken.
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