Children grow up.  As K-12 educators, we know them well in increments, sometimes a school year only and sometimes as elementary, middle or high school students.  Then, they graduate and we lose track of most.  Who they were and who they become are influenced by how we interacted with them while they were ours and by how they react to what and how we taught them.  We are not responsible for everything in their young adult lives, but now and again they let us see our work and its effects.  I am amazed by so many when I see them in latter years.  They are full-grown and in the world we believe we prepared them to occupy and I smile at their stories.

I turn wood on a lathe and create useable personal and home craft products.  At a recent craft fair a young man and young woman were examining an ebony-handled razor and shaving brush set.  They stood on the other side of my display table under a red-topped canopy.  There were a dozen folks looking at my work and whenever anyone picks up an item, I engage with them and tell them about the wood or how the item was crafted.

“The razor handle is turned in ebony”, I said over the display table.  “Ebony is grown in equatorial Africa and turns into a very smooth and durable handle for razors and brushes”.  The young man manipulated the razor in his hand looking at the young woman and mimicking his shaving.

“You don’t remember me, do you”, he said turning to me while examining the accompanying shaving brush handle.

This is not a foreign question for a retired teacher, coach, principal, school superintendent.  I have known thousands of children.  As young adults, some are exact replicas of their former teen-age selves.  Others are not.  I could not name him.

Still holding the razor and brush, he told the young woman, “I was trouble when I was in school.”  She smiled and said, “Nothing new there.”

“Help me”, I said.  “You are grown and I cannot place the face or voice.” 

“Shane (I will omit the last name)”.

I immediately knew his story from Kindergarten through his graduation.  “I am pleased to see you again”, I said and held out my hand and we shook.  I was also pleased by his firm grip and willingness to shake.  These two facts told me about his memory of his studenthood – he was equally pleased to see again.

I turned to the young woman and said, “I explain to every person accompanying a former student that I knew your friend when he was a student.  I always say, with hand flourishes, ‘He was a stellar student, a fine athlete, courteous to his teachers, and a good friend to his classmates.’”  She smiled a look of understanding yet knowing better.

Looking at Shane, I told her “Shane grew quickly in elementary school.  He was big for his age and wanted to be big among all the other boys, but some things got in his way.  One was temper.  The other was independence.  He did not like being told ‘No’.  This obstinance also put him on the wrong side of some teachers and he spent time out of the classroom.  As his principal, I knew him fairly well.  A little of his home life influenced his need to be loud and defiant in school and we did not fault him for that.”

“Shane was athletic but did not like sports.  Cooperation was not his thing.  He was school smart, talented in music.  He was inquisitive.  In middle school, he was ‘all boy’ and got into the usual mischief.  In high school, Shane showed a real attachment to teachers who took a personal interest in him.  His principal did.  His music teacher and his computer science teacher, also.  Like many high school students, Shane did well in subjects he liked and skated through those he did not.  He graduated.  And, I have not seen him since shaking his hand at graduation.”

Turning to Shane, I asked, “Bring me up to date.  What are you doing back in this area?  Where have you been and what are your plans?”

He explained that he graduated from college, majored in computer science, was employed with a software company that, due to the pandemic, allowed him to work from anywhere.  He and his girl friend were renting-to-buy a home several miles from his former school and they intended to make this their home.  Not surprisingly, Shane did not introduce her, so I introduced myself and welcomed her to the community.

Shane was tall, well-built, looked healthy, and stood straight.  He looked me in the eye when we spoke with each other.  He had learned professional skills and was gainfully employed with plans for a future. 

I rounded the displayed tables to stand next to him saying, “I am so pleased to see you today.  I am pleased that you looked at my woodwork.  And, I am most pleased that you told me your story.”  He did not make a purchase, but took a business card and smiled as he and his girl friend walked on.

School is where children grow up.  They give us thirteen years of their life and the opportunity to teach them.  School is all about preparation; it is not an end.  Education is how children use what they have learned, some learning from school and some from life, to become adults in the world. 

We see many Shanes in our work.  It is easy to characterize them early in life by their school successes and failures, behaviors and misbehaviors, and how they seem to conform to our pre-conceptions of what and who they should be.  School is a little like lathe work.  A block of wood goes between the head- and tailstock, we give it a turn, apply a chisel, and begin to imagine a finished product.  It is only an imagining, though.  I never know the true grain inside a block of wood until it is exposed.  Almost always, it is a natural work of art.  I also never know, once it is purchased, if an ebony-handled razor and brush will become part of an owner’s daily practice, how long he or she may use it, or what will happen in its future.  I only know that it was well-turned, prepared and finished for long service, and ready for the world. 

I liked Shane as a student and hope to know him as an adult in our community.  He is still turning out.