When I met Dylan Prosser, I didn’t know he would change my life. He was an awkward, gangly kid who shuffled into my ninth-grade classroom looking like the last person who was ready for high school. At the first open house, his mother explained that Dylan had an inoperable tumor on his brain stem and had been diagnosed with neurofibromatosis. The tumor, and other smaller ones along his central nervous system, were growing slowly and had been there since Dylan was born. They hadn’t expected him to live for more than a few months, let alone make it clear to the ninth grade. But here he was.
Dylan needed accommodations for writing because he could not process his thoughts into written or spoken language as fast as everybody else, but I learned quickly that Dylan could process information faster than he was being given credit for. Dylan was a smart kid. He needed time to process language, but everything else was right on track. During his sophomore year, he was enrolled into my reading remediation course, which we both knew he didn’t need. So instead of testing his reading fluency (which consists of kids reading a progressively-harder paragraph aloud and trying to beat their speed for the previous week), I instead started measuring Dylan’s silent reading using the same tools. It took a lot of trust because he very well could have lied to me about his reading speed–I would never have known. But every week he graphed his own work and confirmed my suspicions. He could think and read faster than most other students, but because he couldn’t speak or write quickly, people assumed he had a learning disability. Over the next two years he showed enthusiasm for literature, especially Shakespeare, and improvements in both his reading speed and his language processing. He may have been told that he wouldn’t live past infancy, but his joy was palpable at graduation when he held his diploma over his head and the crowd cheered.
After he graduated I thought I had lost touch with him forever, as occurs when kids graduate and teachers change jobs. I have grown close to and lost touch with thousands of young adults, so I was really surprised when in 2019 I saw Dylan at UCCS. He was getting into the elevator in my building, and I must confess that I recognized him by his walk and his tumor before I even saw his face. The tumor on his neck had grown to twice the size it was when I had seen it last and was very visible underneath his skin. I breathed aloud, “Dylan?” He turned around and ran back to hug me as soon as he recognized me. We found a place to sit down and chat; after that, I found Dylan in the atrium between my morning classes every chance I got. Even if we only had a couple of minutes, we’d chat about everything from politics to climate change, local history, life on the prairie–whatever. He opened up quickly because he knew I would be patient as he took time to form his thoughts into words. Through many conversations, I grew to respect this young man in ways that I never thought imaginable. He had a wide and varied interest in so many things and a strong opinion about current events, political parties, and his own spirituality. This was not the same bullied, “handicapped” kid who walked into my classroom all those years ago.
Because I came to know Dylan in such a different way as an adult than I knew him as a kid, I came to see how he viewed life: instead of seeing his tumors as ticking timebombs, Dylan saw each day as a gift; he got as much out of life as he could. Dylan showed me why I should live more in the moment. He widened my perspective, and my life is better for having known him.
Dylan lost his battle with neurofibromatosis on October 15, 2021. He was an active UCCS student, pursuing the University’s Course of Study program which is offered through the College of Education’s Inclusive Services. He was recognized in the Spring 2021 Commencement ceremony, so technically he was a college graduate when he passed away at age 29. What an incredible life this young man had. He is the perfect example of the student teaching the teacher, and I miss him. Goodbye, my friend.
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The “Dylan’s Journey Memorial Scholarship” has been established in his honor. It will be awarded annually on Dylan’s birthday, April 21. Details about Dylan’s UCCS experience, his obituary and the scholarship can be found in this article: “In Memory: Dylan Prosser ’21“.
