Today I helped cart kindergartners to and from their field trip to city hall. During the fire safety lecture at the fire station. Firefighter John told them, “Your mom and dad might think this is strange, but you will be safer if you sleep with your door closed.”
A very energetic girl raises her hand and says, “Not my mommy! She shuts my door every night… and locks it!”
Later I was laughing about the girl’s response, and a mom told me the following story.
When the kids had entered the police station, one of the officers was eating a donut and another officer made a self-conscious crack about that stereotype. The kindergartners were ushered into a room that had quite a library.
“What do you think is in all those books?” asked the officer in charge.
One boy seriously offered, “How to eat donuts?”
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Sunday, April 24, 2005
"Serious Talk"
Today I drove from College Place to Marrowstone Island and back. Twelve hours of driving to attend a funeral. The woman who died was the mother of two girls who sat for four years in my one-room school – my first teaching appointment. Today would have been the mother’s 53rd birthday.
The long drive was worth it. Five former students attended the simple service in the Nordland Garden Club. “Going home” to this island school community brought up powerful memories of the students, their families, and my efforts.
One young mother introduced me to her husband saying, “Honey, this is the man who is the reason I am what I am today.”
He shook my hand and with mock concern said to me, “Well then, you and I need to have a serious talk!” We all laughed.
I enjoyed seeing these former students again; some of them for the first time in 21 years. Interestingly, the students – though now older than I was when I went to teach them – are virtually unchanged. They’ve grown tall and beautiful. They know more. They have traveled life’s bumpy road and learned some things the hard way.
But they are still the same people I knew back then. Their gestures are the same. They receive and process new information with the same direct focus, or the same tilt of the head, or the same smiling nod. They have the same individual levels of energy, curiosity, humor, or doubt that they had 21 years ago. The jokes they didn’t get then, they still don’t get today.
I drove away feeling that I had seen the souls of these girls. I could see each one, somehow, stripped of age, accomplishments, and acquisitions. I could sense that unchanging piece that makes each one unique and irreplaceable. It made me value the years I was privileged to be with them. God couldn’t have blessed me with a more colorful first group of students.
Driving back into sleepy College Place I realized that I am again surrounded with a colorful collection of once-in-eternity characters. Each child, each parent, each teacher is unique and irreplaceable. “Lord, help my eyes stay open to the inestimable value of each soul.”
The long drive was worth it. Five former students attended the simple service in the Nordland Garden Club. “Going home” to this island school community brought up powerful memories of the students, their families, and my efforts.
One young mother introduced me to her husband saying, “Honey, this is the man who is the reason I am what I am today.”
He shook my hand and with mock concern said to me, “Well then, you and I need to have a serious talk!” We all laughed.
I enjoyed seeing these former students again; some of them for the first time in 21 years. Interestingly, the students – though now older than I was when I went to teach them – are virtually unchanged. They’ve grown tall and beautiful. They know more. They have traveled life’s bumpy road and learned some things the hard way.
But they are still the same people I knew back then. Their gestures are the same. They receive and process new information with the same direct focus, or the same tilt of the head, or the same smiling nod. They have the same individual levels of energy, curiosity, humor, or doubt that they had 21 years ago. The jokes they didn’t get then, they still don’t get today.
I drove away feeling that I had seen the souls of these girls. I could see each one, somehow, stripped of age, accomplishments, and acquisitions. I could sense that unchanging piece that makes each one unique and irreplaceable. It made me value the years I was privileged to be with them. God couldn’t have blessed me with a more colorful first group of students.
Driving back into sleepy College Place I realized that I am again surrounded with a colorful collection of once-in-eternity characters. Each child, each parent, each teacher is unique and irreplaceable. “Lord, help my eyes stay open to the inestimable value of each soul.”
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Quick Learner
The boy bursts into the restroom where I am washing my hands. “Ptui!” he spits a mouthful of something into the wastebasket and turns to dash back out. “That is the last time I put 15 mints in my mouth at one time.” I agree that’s smart. Minty fumes are already beginning to clear my own sinuses, and I'm 10 feet from the wastebasket.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Planting a Legacy
Today our school planted trees. More accurately, the community showed up en masse to buy and plant trees for us. A legacy, these trees will benefit generations to come. The trees will bear the names of the donors or those they wished to honor.
One anonymous donor chose to honor six hardworking children, four of whom attend Rogers. It’s a long story but it has to do with another kind of legacy.
Two months ago our school was in the middle of its annual magazine campaign. I was walking home and saw a seventh-grade girl trudging up the road with three small siblings trailing behind. They looked discouraged and tired. I asked how they were doing.
“No one wants to buy magazines,” she answered. She had tried all the sales pitch strategies, but still hadn’t found buyers. Students get prizes for turning in order forms. It’s not easy work, and I was impressed that she would be willing to share her earnings with this tribe of four. I had already bought through another student, so I passed on her plight to another person who ordered in her name.
The seventh-grader and her siblings were happy with the order. Surprisingly, as the days passed, she continued to make sales and did quite well for herself and her brothers and sister. Her generosity and hard work paid off. It’s the kind of mix that helps us leave legacies.
Today we planted trees. The magazine buyer remembered the girl’s hard work and her caring for her family. So the buyer decided to donate a tree in honor of her and the family. We say “God helps those who help themselves.” Jesus said, “To those who have, more will be given.” Either way, when we act as though we “have” and we act in faith, Someone always notices. Sometimes we see the blessing today… sometimes years down the road.
One anonymous donor chose to honor six hardworking children, four of whom attend Rogers. It’s a long story but it has to do with another kind of legacy.
Two months ago our school was in the middle of its annual magazine campaign. I was walking home and saw a seventh-grade girl trudging up the road with three small siblings trailing behind. They looked discouraged and tired. I asked how they were doing.
“No one wants to buy magazines,” she answered. She had tried all the sales pitch strategies, but still hadn’t found buyers. Students get prizes for turning in order forms. It’s not easy work, and I was impressed that she would be willing to share her earnings with this tribe of four. I had already bought through another student, so I passed on her plight to another person who ordered in her name.
The seventh-grader and her siblings were happy with the order. Surprisingly, as the days passed, she continued to make sales and did quite well for herself and her brothers and sister. Her generosity and hard work paid off. It’s the kind of mix that helps us leave legacies.
Today we planted trees. The magazine buyer remembered the girl’s hard work and her caring for her family. So the buyer decided to donate a tree in honor of her and the family. We say “God helps those who help themselves.” Jesus said, “To those who have, more will be given.” Either way, when we act as though we “have” and we act in faith, Someone always notices. Sometimes we see the blessing today… sometimes years down the road.
Friday, April 08, 2005
... Won't Happen Again
Last Monday an eighth-grader gave me a pledge to do things better. He’d flippantly written something offensive, and according to our practice, he was asked to write what the problem was, how it could be avoided next time, and what level of commitment he had to making sure it didn’t happen again.
I accepted his folded piece of paper as he headed to class. In my office I opened the paper and read of his shame at what he’d done. He ended with a single earnest line… and a mistake. Instead of promising that it wouldn’t happen again – as he intended to write – he omitted the “t” and wrote a whole different message.
“I will never happen again.”
I chuckled… then the truth of it hit me. He’s right, he won’t happen again. Neither will I. Neither will any of us. That is why all this effort of educating people is so worthwhile.
No one again will ever bear our unique fingerprint of personality, our approach to life, our spiritual potential. It’s the reason we must value each other… the reason we must practice compassion, the reason we must insist on competence.
I accepted his folded piece of paper as he headed to class. In my office I opened the paper and read of his shame at what he’d done. He ended with a single earnest line… and a mistake. Instead of promising that it wouldn’t happen again – as he intended to write – he omitted the “t” and wrote a whole different message.
“I will never happen again.”
I chuckled… then the truth of it hit me. He’s right, he won’t happen again. Neither will I. Neither will any of us. That is why all this effort of educating people is so worthwhile.
No one again will ever bear our unique fingerprint of personality, our approach to life, our spiritual potential. It’s the reason we must value each other… the reason we must practice compassion, the reason we must insist on competence.
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