Hildy Krull signed onto Facebook in 2009, telling herself it was a convenient way to keep up with family, friends and former students. But for the retired teacher, there was one special student from Andries Hudde MS in Brooklyn she wanted to find: a young girl who had etched a permanent groove in her teacher’s heart. 

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Jonathan Fickies

Krull’s classroom was a place of last resort for students who did not do well academically in their regular classes. “I had many favorites, but Tracy, oh, how I loved Tracy,” recalls Krull, who retired in 2012 after 31 years on the job. “She had a hard life, but she shone academically and was responsible and mature and took care of her younger siblings. I wanted to see how she was doing all these years later.”

Tracy and her former teacher were elated to reconnect, sharing Facebook posts, emails, texts and eventually long and satisfying phone conversations.

Facebook has made it possible for millions of teachers and students to reconnect and given them the gift of a second chance to voice what was left unsaid.

“Facebook has become a powerful tool for locating, communicating and connecting,” says Chaim Shapiro, a social media expert and instructor of educational psychology at Touro College. “It often takes years for a student to understand the impact a great teacher made on their lives. And for the teacher, what an amazing gift to receive recognition that their hard work and dedication helped form the adult the child became.”

Facebook also has provided a forum for former students to rekindle classroom bonds, share inspiring memories and even take collective action.

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Joseph Hassett has never signed onto Facebook. Nor has the 88-year-old been a classroom teacher in four decades. But scores of his former students at PS 152 in Washington Heights have refused to let him fade away. Lois Sarnoff was a member of Hassett’s 1972 6th-grade class. She is a fan among fans. In phone chats, she fills him in on what fellow former students on Facebook have to say about him. She also has organized several luncheons where a revolving group of former students fetes their favorite teacher, always dapper in a suit or sports jacket.

“He was the reason I became a teacher,” says Sarnoff, who retired earlier this year. “He was and remains an amazing man, a true gentleman, smart, kind, all you could ask for in a teacher. I’m so grateful to have found him and to be able to show him how much he means to so many of us.” 

The outpouring has enriched Hassett’s life immeasurably. “I always believed that becoming a teacher was the best thing I ever did with my life,” says Hassett. “I was never happier than in a classroom, and I’m generally a pretty happy guy. My former students have confirmed my belief, which makes me an even happier guy!”

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Jonathan Fickies

When Mahasin Nor-Pomarico, a 27-year veteran band and music teacher, was hired three years ago to teach guitar at PS 189 in Brooklyn, she discovered a problem. There were no guitars to play and no money to buy any. Nor-Pomarico explained the situation to her 200-plus former students and current Facebook friends. In no time, they had donated some $2,500, enough to purchase 25 new guitars for her young charges.

“My former students tell me they feel like they’re paying it forward to help my current students,” says Nor-Pomarico. “Here’s the thing — especially with kids who have so little — you know as a teacher that at the end  of every year you have to push them gently out the door and then you pray hard that they make it. With social media, you get to see what good and generous adults they became.”

For Hildy Krull, reconnecting with her favorite student Tracy proved bittersweet. As they grew closer, Tracy revealed to Krull what even her closest friends didn’t know: She had breast cancer and was undergoing treatment. “I was devastated for her,” Krull says, still brought to tears by the memory.

Despite treatment, Tracy’s cancer metastasized. Her former teacher did some research and found a renowned breast cancer specialist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. She asked Tracy if she’d agree to see the oncologist. “I was so happy when she said yes and went,” Krull says. “But it was already too late.” Tracy died in 2012. She was 31.

There isn’t a day that Krull doesn’t think of that determined girl in her class. And not a year goes by when Krull doesn’t honor the strong woman Tracy became by donating to breast cancer research in her name: “Reconnecting with that amazing young woman,” says Krull, “was a gift that I will never, ever stop being grateful for.”