Dear Teachers Friends,
Jeanette and I stopped at a nearby grocery store one day early last spring and as we maneuvered down an aisle, a little girl came around the corner. She stopped and stared at us. We recognized – let’s call her Hope – as one of the 1st grade students from the class where we volunteer. “Hi, Hope,” Jeanette said, “How are you?” She continued to stare at us.
“Where’s your Mom?”
Finally, Hope took a small step toward us with a puzzled look on her face..
She said, “Do you two live together?”
We laughed and explained that, yes, we are married and we lived together. She smiled and headed off looking for her mom.
“See you soon,” Jeanette called. Hope waved and kept on walking. We had been visiting her classroom one day a week for months, but she didn’t realize we lived in the same house. It reminded me how easy it is to make inaccurate assumptions about a child’s understanding. It also made me think of all the teachers preparing to start another school year and all the kids whose lives you will enrich. And all the parents who are grateful for your help. Your classroom continues to be one of the most important places in our society.
There is no doubt the COVID pandemic had a huge impact on our schools and on our children. But you already knew that. You knew there would be learning consequences if kids got only virtual classes, but you also knew there was no choice if lives were to be saved. It is sad that certain politicians use their voices to belittle schools and teachers. Even when the pandemic eased, they continue their war on public education. Don’t let them wear you down. It is clear that certain groups of people have been convinced to distrust educators. I get it, but we’ve been through this before. I understand that social media has made it more difficult to ignore the “provocateurs”, but most parents just want to know their children are learning and finding their way. Do your best to make your classroom a safe and exciting place for students to learn.
In my long career in the classroom, I witnessed the influence of John Dewey’s progressive education ideas, B.F. Skinner’s behavorist theory, Piaget’s constructivism, Gardner’s multiple intelligences, and the impact of the “Digital Revolution”. I lived through the slashing of electives during the “back to the basics” movement and the standardized test obsession during “No Child Left Behind”. I marched around our state capitol before Act 10 degraded our schools. Much of this produced rich, thoughtful, and robust conversations among educators about the best ways to meet the needs of our kids. Some of it was ill-informed, ignorant, political manipulation. I am thankful for the dedicated teachers who helped my children during those times. I hope you can do the same.
I hope you will forgive me if I end with a short speech I wrote at the start of the 2006-2007 school year. I was speaking at Parker’s traditional Welcome Back ceremony. (I refer to “missing one opening… for some reason”. The “reason” was a horrific car wreck when Jeanette and I were t-boned by a drunk driver. I missed most of the first semester.) I think the message still rings true.
This is the 33rd time I have gathered with the teachers of Parker High School to begin a new school year. I’m actually starting my 34th year, but I missed one opening a year before last for some reason. One of the nice things about getting old is it’s easier to be forgiven for forgetting stuff and for the many stupid things you did when you were young. For example, I hope others realized that I didn’t really mean it when I often said my hobbies included Mazola oil and psychedelic drugs. That a ¼ barrel and brats would improve attendance at faculty meetings. But I digress. I’m up here this afternoon for just a few minutes to help celebrate the good stuff we do at Parker High. I want you to take a moment right now to recall some of your former students who are happy and successful adults. Take a moment to share the names of those students with those at your table. Now think about parents who have thanked you for helping their child. There is no end to studies and reports that demonstrate that teachers are often the most significant people in a student’s life. Doesn’t that make you feel good? And a little overwhelmed? There can be huge obstacles in our way, but still we manage to help kids. And after all these years, I know one thing for certain; the most important sound in this building is still the sound of laughter - laughter that comes from people who find joy in working together and joy in what they do. I read somewhere that a well adjusted person will laugh between 100 to 400 times per day. As this 34th year starts for me, I hope you will forgive me if you see me laughing more often. After the last two years, I need to make up for some missed days. Plus I found some left over vicodin and I’m experimenting with it. I hope we can continue to feel good about our success as we move to solve our problems. I can’t leave without a poem. This is a poem about gratitude and how we as parents and teachers receive what our kids give us.
The Lanyard
by Billy Collins
The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the pale blue walls of this room,
bouncing from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one more suddenly into the past –
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.
