You Are Going With You
June 1, 2021
Meech, as we called him, wore corduroy pants and sweater vests. I picture him standing in front of the chalkboard, arms in perpetual motion, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. In one hand, the softened copy of his dog-eared book is splayed open. The other hand holds a sharpened No. 2, poised to underline passages or point at us like a fencer’s foil if we needed waking up. Meech thought prose at our fingertips was worthy of our reverent attention. We were fortuitous learners, blessed to be in contact with verse, which was making us more human and more humane.
Twenty-five years later, I can still recount phrases and remember images from books I read for his class, because of how he celebrated literature and the diversity of the human condition. Consistently, Meech feigned bafflement and shook his head at lines he found stylistically astonishing. Words were worth perseverating over, he showed us. So was the practice of writing.
For days we developed and workshopped five-sentence paragraphs, using noun, verb, gerund, infinitive, and prepositional phrase construction. The exercise was tedious, but I could feel the evolution of my sentences and observe my expression growing crisper and more precise. Now, as I review students’ essays and edit my own work, I prize intentional word choice. Consistently, I am grateful for what he taught me about writing. His most influential lesson, however, was imparted on the side of the road.
Visiting my hometown on a gorgeous spring day, I spotted him. Even from the back, his thick, marmalade hair, bouncy step, and tracksuit were unmistakably Mechem. I was reassured by the joyful sight of him. “Buddy for life! How the heck are ya?” he called into my open window, as I eased the car up beside him. I was a young adult by then, out of the spit zone for almost a decade, but it didn’t matter. During our catch-up conversation, Mr. Mechem made me feel just as seen and valued as he did when he was my teacher. An educator who never expected me to be perfect, he cultivated my potential as a learner and encouraged me to be and do my best.
I spoke to him about how working in an admission office for four years had left me less fulfilled than I wanted but hesitant to leave, worried that I might not replicate professional relationships and responsibilities in a future environment. Although he was wearing sunglasses, Mr. Mechem’s kindness in his eyes was unmistakable as he said, “You are going with you.” Meech was suggesting I had built connections and established my place on a team not because of where I was, but who I was. He wanted me to trust my ability to contribute to multiple communities, not just one. His words got me unstuck.
For the past 16 years, I have been a college counselor at an independent high school. Every spring, as graduation nears and nervous seniors prepare for departure, I share the advice that took root in me when Mr. Mechem planted it that May day.
When soon-to-be graduates express trepidation about their transition to life beyond high school, together we reflect on other times they have navigated change. Some students fear leaving friends and worry about finding their people in college. Others wonder how they will adapt to new school culture or rise to meet increased academic expectations. Not every student is off to adventures or work about which they are certain or proud.
Without trying to fix their anguish, I listen calmly. My students have been proud architects of their own success. Together, we remember their many personal and academic triumphs. Then I trot out the best advice I have for inspiring confidence, “You are going with you,” I say, confident in my students. Their achievements are not particular to high school but transferable to numerous environments.
We all have naysayers inside of our heads. These voices make us feel inferior and inadequate. I’m so grateful Mr. Mechem modeled for me how to be an educator who helps young people remember their worth and summon the temerity to talk back.
Author
Kate Peltz
Kate Peltz is director of college counseling at Concord Academy in Concord, Massachusetts.