Sometimes I try to think about what I was like when I was a freshman in college. It’s possible that I came to my Freshman English equivalent with something of a bad affect. I remember being irritated by my classmates and the way everyone spoke out of what I thought of as self-aggrandizement. Vying each of us to be the most intelligent, the most unique. No one really listening to each other. It’s possible, however that I was the one not listening. I don’t think I was much of a contributor to that class.

Now I think one of the biggest differences between me and and my students is time. I have spent more years alive and interacting with the world, physical and social, than they have. I feel it as a large gulf, and I think they must too. I don’t know if I’m wiser or better for my years, but I am undeniably older. One of them asked me in class on Wednesday if I knew what “streaming” meant in terms of video games. Of course I do. Don’t I?

I think this difference can be harmful when my age or perceived wisdom shuts down the class. When I am seen as the arbiter of what is “right,” the Voice of Authority. Then their voices are stifled, silenced, waiting for me to hand down wisdom from on high. I try to avoid these moments, but I know I’ve had a few.

Most of my students are male-identifying, many of them drinking the heteronormative kool-aid just like me. This very sameness is destructive though, or at least constraining, making it difficult to allow space for the voice of difference.

One of the great unspoken and invisible differences jumping out at me right now is anxiety. I have my own bubbling anxiety around this return to school, but it is not the same as what at least three of my students have shared with me. I don’t know exactly how to relate to anxiety on the scale they describe or how best to support them. Do I push them? Do I make allowances? Do I ask them how they are doing or leave them be? Does my reaching out make them more anxious? Would anything I do be helpful? Also, there is this part of me that wonders if they are taking advantage of me. That my allowances and flexibility are not helping them in the long run but just letting them get by with less work and less interaction than their classmates. But success takes many forms, and we don’t all have to be social beings to be useful, important, valued.

And how can I allow space for this difference in my class? How can I open a forum for students who don’t understand anxiety and depression to think about this difference without that dangerous flattening that Rhodes and Alexander speak of? The work of recognizing difference is potentially risky, but important and necessary. I just don’t really know how to go about it.