The Meaning of Life...

Working with adolescents certainly keeps life interesting. In English class last week, while students were writing, one student raised her hand and called me over. She began with, "Ms. Larsen, I have a question," and followed it quickly with, "but it doesn't have anything to do with English class." I let her know that I love that preface to her question and I encouraged her to ask away. She looked at me quizzically and began: "What is the point of living? We're born, we go to school, we work, and then we die. What is the point?" I let her know that her question is a timeless one and it certainly is a good question to ask. (I should note that as a teacher I continually worry about my students and do what I can to ensure their safety. In loco parentis.)

We discussed her question briefly and then I needed her to get back to her writing. I told her that I would love to talk about this further at some point, and I plan to do just that. However, I am curious what to say.

As an English teacher, I need her to know that poets and writers ponder this idea often. Some find the answers in other people, some in themselves; some look for truth in the past, some in the future, while others focus on the moment. Various religions have strong views on the purpose of life. A person's faith seems to provide some assistance in this area, to help comfort and potentially reduce the anxiety that comes from uncertainty. I don't want to have a conversation about any specific religion with her. I let her know that I struggle with her question as well. Perhaps it is because I am a non-believer that I struggle.

As I was growing up I felt that my purpose in life was to make other people happy. It wasn't until I was in my 30s and I started seeing a counselor that I realized that making others happy wasn't possible; nobody can make anyone else happy. I altered my purpose at that point to work toward "facilitating the happiness of others." Now, in my fifties I have learned to move my own quest for happiness to forefront. I still care about many others but I need to consider my own needs and wants. I'd say this is my midlife crisis but I'm way past my mid life. I start to think about what I'm leaving behind. What will be my legacy? How will I be remembered? I think the reason this student's question resonated with me so much was that I have been thinking of it as well. Every few years, as an exercise, I write my obituary. As one might

imagine, this is a sobering and emotional experience. But in an odd way, it is motivating. I'm often left with a feeling of, "That's it? That's all I've done in my time here?" My plan is to look for some poems, quotes, or readings to give to this student. I want to give her the latitude to explore this outside of the English curriculum, an independent study of sorts. I know that life is a journey; I know that the purpose seems to be surivival. Beyond that, I have far more questions than answers. Perhaps this will be a time when my student will be my teacher.

One of my favorite books is The Sunflower by Simon Wiesenthal. During World War II, Wisenthal was part of a work detail from a concentration camp. One day, a nurse brought him to the bedside of a dying Nazi officer. The Nazi wanted forgiveness. Wisenthal wrestled with the idea. He didn't know how he could give forgiveness on behalf of all of the Jews. In his book, he poses the question of what to do and then invites people from a variety of walks of life to reply.

In that same spirit, dear readers, I am asking you these questions:

What would you have told my student?

What should be my reply to her when next we speak of her musings?