thirty-nine memories (11)

Memory #11: Applause

Today was the last day of FYE this semester; it was also the end of ten year partnership I've had with John Dendiu as the "faculty mentors" of Block 10/7 (Block 10 for nine years; Block 7 this year). Next year, John will transition into a new role in the school of graduate studies at Bethel. Over the past decade, John and I have grown into a true team. While he was primarily responsible for Exploring the Christian Faith, and I primarily responsible to help students read and write better, we both saw that our primary purpose was in mentoring and discipling Bethel students to become more passionate, thoughtful, disciplined, and articulate followers of Jesus Christ.

I hardly knew John at all when I first met him a couple of weeks before our first block class together in August of 1999. He was the tennis coach then, and all of the tennis matches were played on Tuesdays and Thursdays--block days. So he was absent a fair amount during my first month or two of teaching at Bethel.

I have learned a lot from John over the years. I learned to laugh, to lighten up, to care for students as persons rather than as my mere pet projects that I would transform into brilliant writers. Watching him teach, I learned just how powerful a personal story as part of a lesson (on anything) could be. I was never as good at planning the whole semester out day by day the way John could, but he never expressed any frustration with my last second ideas. Together we learned the importance of the "daily ritual" of reading and discussing classic devotional literature with our students.

Today in block class--and I write of this because I will not soon forget it--John played the piano for our students and for the students in the block across the hall. We sang Christmas carols. Then he briefly played a little Chopin followed by some jazz.

And the students thundered their approval.

Maybe they were just clapping for the guy who can make something beautiful come out of the piano, but I heard something more. It was an ovation for ten years of service in mentoring freshmen through that often painful, often transformative first semester of college. I was clapping, too.