Calling myself out: student learning, linguistic privilege, gratitude

Today I got an email from a first-year student in the living-learning program for which I am a graduate assistant/assistant director.  He was about to register for our sophomore capstone course and was trying to choose a section based on which professor, in my view, would be "an easy teacher or grader."

I will not tell a lie.  My first reaction was one of amused annoyance.  Asking a staff/faculty member to tell you who the easy teacher is?  Unbelievable.  "What a classic millennial moment," I thought.  "Let me just post this on Facebook - my colleagues and friends in the higher ed world will love this."

 With that out of my system, it was time to respond to the student.  I know him fairly well -- he's a first-generation college student and non-native speaker of English who puts an extraordinary amount of time into his academic work.  So I was surprised and somewhat disappointed, not just at receiving an email like this (oh, millennials...), but at receiving it from him.  I wrote:

"I hope you are doing well.  It's nice to hear from you, but this was a surprising email to get from you - as you are an extremely hard-working person who takes coursework seriously, and not a person who I see as wanting to seek out the easy route.  And in this case, there probably will not be one, as both instructors will work very hard to offer a challenging but fun learning experience in the course.  I encourage you to see this course as a learning opportunity and not a chance for an easy A - it will be a challenging course no matter who teaches it."

His response - I won't paste it verbatim here, because I don't have his permission.  But he said, with an anxious tone, that he was really worried about this writing-intensive course.  He "did not really 'properly' learn English" as a kid, he reminded me, and shared that he's frustrated by always getting the same grade on writing assignments, no matter how hard he tries.

Whoa. MY BAD.  His goal: writing A-papers, so he can earn an A in the course, so he can maintain a high GPA, so he can graduate near the top of his class, so he can get a great job, so he can bring honor to his family, showing them that the sacrifices they've made for his education have all been worth it.  My goal: offering a "teachable moment" about the importance of seeking out challenging learning experiences...as if I've had a single day in my educational life when I haven't been grade-conscious; as if I had any idea what it might be like to write and speak all day long in a non-native tongue.

Step one...follow-up email sharing that I hear him loud and clear, honoring his experience, talking about the writing center, sharing resources on academic writing for college students who are non-native speakers of English...doing and saying all the right things.

Step two...calling myself out, big time...lovingly and constructively.  This is what it means to explore the wreck.  It's not about guilt, shame, or blame.  It's not about sitting here wishing I hadn't posted to Facebook, or feeling ashamed for finding humor in a student e-mail message.  It's about exploring the wreck...working through layers upon layers of (educational/upper middle class/white) privilege so that I learn, with gratitude, all that this student has to teach me.