Valentine's Day, 2019

Thursday was Valentine’s Day. When I crested the stairs by my classroom, I saw the usual couple noodling at the table. Today, they were hidden behind a heart shaped balloon, a bunch of flowers, and a teddy bear. There was a batch of cupcakes in there somewhere; the guy shared them with his friends during class. Ten minutes into the day, the Spartan Candygrams began—voices singing love songs, loudly, while delivering lollypops and cards to students in class. Their voices echoed down the halls all day.

Thursday night, Mark and I went to a house concert, which started me thinking about the nature of love and how we celebrate it on this holiday. The performer was one of my old students, playing at his father’s house, for people who had, as he said, “known him while he was in diapers.” The audience was mostly older couples who had been together for years and years, who had lived in Corvallis for long periods of time, who knew each other and the other audience members, well. There were no hearts, no balloons, although there was some fine chocolate.

Listening to the music, my mind wandered to classes I’ve had—the performer was one of them—when there was a real connection between teacher and students. It’s not unusual for a class to work together well for the duration of the semester, but, occasionally, one remains close afterwards. There’s a magic in certain combinations of students, teacher, and material that lingers in our memories, leads to smiles in the hall, watching out for one another, and caring for the rest of high school and beyond. It also leads, quite often, to wild bursts of laughter in class, creative performances, and excellent writing.

The next night, Mark and I were at our local vegetarian restaurant, tucked in a corner at 8:30 at night. We’d gone to a movie, so we were closing Nearly Normal’s. A dad and son were finishing up their dinner.  After dinner, he came over to introduce himself. He had been a student at CV when I taught there fifteen years ago. I never had him, but he remembered me. He thanked me for running for city council, for representing his values in local government. “I live in Portland now,” he said, “but I still vote here. I can make a difference locally.

Valentine’s Day celebrates the specific connections we have with a romantic partner and sets up, in my mind, unrealistic expectations for long-term relationships. But, this week, I have been thinking about all the forms love may take, when we live in a place for a long time.