Pandemic Connections — Thinking Out Loud

These days getting mail (the paper kind, with a stamp on it) seems more and more like a rare occurrence, so when I started receiving some from a former colleague, I was thrilled. These weren’t long dissertations on the state of the world or even attempts to catch up after many years. They were simpler than that. Most often, I would find a newspaper cut out with a yellow post-it note, describing something about why he thought I would appreciate the article. The topics ranged from education to engineering to sports or commentary. But in the midst of this global pandemic, the kindness he imparted to me and the reconnection he was attempting by doing this mattered a lot, and I placed them in a neat stack on my desk in my new office as Head of School in midcoast Maine. Sometimes the note came on a hand printed card his wife had made for him. She’s an accomplished artist and those messages, in particular, have a special place among my growing collection.

A few examples of note cards Jo-Ann made. Used with permission of the artist.

When I was a young faculty member with a master’s degree in electrical engineering, everything about this colleague intimidated me: his booming laugh, wild greying hair, his extensive vocabulary, even his love of poetry and jazz. I had been hired to be a math teacher, soccer coach, and dorm parent; these things I could do. I really enjoyed working with teenagers, but other than some teaching work I’d done as a graduate student, I badly needed help in the classroom.

I think many of us who arrived at teaching through independent schools have stories about grizzled veteran teachers who brought their subject to life even for the most reluctant of learners. They wove an intricate fabric of high expectations with personal inspiration. They knew when to humor students and when to demand something from them. They understood when to discipline and when to soothe, recognizing that each student was unique but part of a group of learners headed on a journey. He helped me realize that it was too easy to simply focus on the attitudes and roadblocks presented by the student in front of me. The real opportunity lay in helping them connect to their potential through the material at hand. Maybe most importantly, he showed me that there were many roles I would play in the classroom and that my confidence in the subject material was just a piece of becoming a good teacher. I needed to create an environment for the students to grow and discover their own direction and motivation as learners.

It’s a lesson I deeply appreciate.

In the flow of a week, month, or year, with lots of challenges and obstacles in front of me, I mustn’t lose sight of what students can become through their time in schools. My job is to help them see a path of possibilities and help them choose a direction, knowing that it’s their job to take what they learned and put it into practice and to embrace the humility necessary to accept that I may never know if my actions made a bit of difference.

It’s nearly 30 years since I started my career teaching and working in independent schools, and while there was a period of time when my friend and I lost touch, it seems fitting that we have reconnected as I have begun to lead a school community, a goal he tirelessly encouraged me to pursue.

In these dark days of our global pandemic, I am so grateful for these kinds of gestures, ones that I have witnessed among friends, colleagues and family members. It seems that in this time when connection is difficult and yet so deeply desired, we all benefit from this kind of intentionality, that just a simple email, text, or old fashioned letter can make a meaningful impact on someone else. While there seems to be no end to the chaos and divisive nature of our national discourse, I remain hopeful about the humanity expressed by the simplest actions and words.

Thank you Bud.

You have made a difference in my life, and I am eternally grateful for your support and friendship and, of course, the letters.