The older cousin, but not the friend.

Multiple thoughts are rushing around in my head tonight.

Usually my blog tends toward the lighter, more joke-centered side. I mean, I'm interested in writing funny things, so might as well practice here, right?

Sometimes it's hard to find things to joke about.

I've been thinking about teaching. And my students. And how much I really love both. And how the fact that I truly love all the kids at the high school can be difficult since 1) I'm not that much older than them, and 2) and perhaps most importantly, I don't feel that much older than them.

I'm only twelve years older than my youngest student, which means that the large majority of pop culture references they make go right into my head rather than over it. I definitely feel older than them, both in maturity and interests, but the lines start to blur with my older students, especially my oldest students.

I keep telling all my friends that God took the world's perfect student and cloned it 11 times and put them in one of my classes. And that's my class. Eleven of the most perfect students ever. Sure, sometimes they do dumb things (like nearly kill each other for a Nerf ball) or grumble through homework, but doesn't every student? Didn't I do that for a lot of my own English classes even though they were my favorite? Those things don't lessen my students. What makes them amazing is the fact that they care, they're grateful to be learning, and they aren't afraid to ask questions. Shoot, sometimes they stump me with their questions. I love that! What smart kids.

Here's the problem. I'm a teacher because I think teenagers are awesome. Somehow they move from little punks into being responsible and thoughtful individuals. And as a high school teacher I get to see that. I get to part of it.

But I also think my friends are awesome. But my students aren't (read: can't be) my friends. It breaks my heart to think about it, but I've witnessed one of my friends blur the line between student and friend and it cost him his job, his family's trust, his law record and his entire career.

I mean, look, I'm on my A-game, OK? And I'm not my friend. And his actions stemmed from a prolonged period of unchecked motivations. But it all began with a love for his students and a desire to be friends. And in some of my students I see friendship potential.

This is where I'm grateful for my father. A vet of teaching high school for over 30 years, he always kept his students at bay . . . until they graduated. The second they walked that stage then the relationship was different. They could call him by his first name and no longer had to worry about school rules. He was known for it. Students waited for four years until they could finally call him "Ben." Sure, they would giggle and feel weird at first, but they cherished that. And he's developed some real friendships with former students because of it.

So I've decided to adopt that for myself as a teacher. Once those students walk across that floor, no more Miss M. We can be friends.

I figure if I take my father's example then there will at least be a few students who will take me up on that. Until then, I'll be their wise, older cousin who can give them quite a few tips about literature.