My life has almost always worked in semesters. The ebb and flow of the semester schedule has dominated the way that I view my year – the end of summer, the beginning of the semester, finals week, the beginning of summer – it has always been this way. My father was a college professor, and after finishing graduate school, I became one as well.

The rhythm of the semester schedule means that I (typically) have a chance to recharge and run around after my kids during the summer and still continue working to make my classes better and do some lab research while getting to garden and play and engage with people I don’t get to see much during the semester.

And then school begins again and people start trickling back into the office. Students begin showing up at my office door telling me about their summer internships and their family’s adventures. I share pictures of my kids and our summer fun. It is one of my favorite points of connection with my students – letting them know that it’s not always about what we are doing in the classroom – that I see them as humans, as friends, as whole persons. My goal has never been to simply show up, teach, and leave. There’s a reason that I have former students in my phone contact list who I still text, students who send me pictures of their newborn babies, their medical school white coat ceremonies, their first-author papers. I miss my students when they go off into the wide world to do good things, but I am grateful that I still get to see their accomplishments and how they are living out servant leadership in the world.

I’ve often said that the hardest part of my job is the end – letting them go after three or four years in my classes. And that is still true. There are three seniors who graduated in May who I will miss seeing this year. They are off doing amazing things – just not in my little corner of the world. And I pray that they will continue to do good work, maintain the highest ethical standard, and follow hard after God.

I get a new class of students next week. Sophomores who are scared of organic chemistry, Juniors who are terrified of biochemistry, and Freshmen who have no earthly clue what it means to study. I will get to celebrate in their successes, invite them into my crazy life, and share in fellowship with them. I will get to be a shoulder to cry on, someone to hug when they have a bad day or a bad test, someone who understands what it was like to be a student athlete in the sciences. I look forward to these days because it means I am where I am supposed to be, serving those who I am meant to serve. I pray that I do it well.

I’ve talked to many parents who have recently dropped their kids off at college for the first time. And what I want them to know is this: There are people at your child’s school who will love them like they are their own. They will eat home cooked meals in their professor’s home, they will get rides to appointments and other events with friends, but also from professors. They will have a safe space in offices, in dorms, in the dining hall. They will struggle. They will fail. They will fall. And they will be picked back up again.

You have raised them to be good people. You have done 18+ years of hard, hard work. Now I, and others like me, have the privilege to get to see your child learn and grow more than they ever have before. They become our kids for the time we have them. We love them as if they are our own. You have done a good thing by letting your child leave the nest and fly on their own. It’s hard and sad, but they will thrive in the right places.

My dad said something a few years ago that has stuck with me. He was meeting some of our friends at church, a place where we have found a wonderful community (without which we would be seriously struggling raising our kids). My dad, in speaking to one of our friends who is the same age as him, said, “It’s hard to let them go, but it is a great joy to get to see them live out their purpose where they are. I love getting to meet the people who have helped to make them who they are, and to see them thrive in ways I never could have imagined.”

I love getting to be that person for these students. Parents, you are going to get to see your kids shine in ways you could never imagine. And I am humbled and grateful to get to be a part of their lives for even a short time. I will take care of them as if they are my own. I will challenge them, comfort them, cry with them, and love them. I am praying for you and your students as you embark on this new journey. And I can’t wait to see who they become in these four years. You have done well, parents. Now let us help you and your children become who they were called to be.