I wasn’t sure I had an answer to this one.
Then I remembered two airport-related coincidences involving students, and apparently airports are where the universe likes to remind me that teaching follows you everywhere.
A few years ago, I called an Uber to take me from school to the airport. The driver and I started talking, and when she found out where I taught, she mentioned that her son had gone there.
Naturally, I asked who he was. It turned out he was one of those students.
Every teacher has a few of them. The ones whose names are remembered years later, usually followed by a deep sigh and a thousand-yard stare. He had been one of my least favorite students, and I wasn’t alone. He was the kind of kid other teachers dreaded seeing on their rosters.
So there I was, trapped in an Uber on the way to the airport with his mother. Fortunately, she wasn’t laboring under any illusions.
When I cautiously asked how he was doing, she essentially told me that he was a fool and that she wasn’t even entirely sure where he was.
There really isn’t a good follow-up question to that.
Then there was another airport coincidence.
I was flying home from a trip to Nashville, and the plane was extremely late getting in. By the time I reached baggage claim, everybody was tired and just standing around waiting for luggage to show up.
I struck up a conversation with a woman nearby. Eventually, we started talking about schools, and she mentioned that her son was about to enter eighth grade. We talked for a while. Nice lady. Pleasant conversation. Then the bags finally arrived, we went our separate ways, and I didn’t think much more about it.
Until school started.
Guess who wound up in my class? Her son.
That alone was a pretty good coincidence. Unfortunately, the school year that followed wasn’t exactly the heartwarming ending you’d expect from a Hallmark movie. It was a rough year. He struggled, I struggled with him, and I’m pretty sure neither of us would have listed the other among our favorite people.
But here’s where the story gets interesting.
I have him again this year. And something has changed. He’s matured. He’s engaged. He’s making better choices. I’m seeing a completely different student than the one I taught before. And somehow, the kid who gave me such a difficult year has become one of my favorite students.
We’re still early in the year, so I’m not writing the ending yet. But I have a feeling that by the time we’re finished, he may become one of my favorite success stories.
Maybe that’s the strangest coincidence of all. Not that I happened to meet his mother at baggage claim before I ever taught him. It’s that life somehow gave both of us another chance to get the story right.
Enjoyed this? Subscribe and get future reflections, bourbon notes, and assorted nonsense delivered straight to your inbox.
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
