I know this is really long but I think its wonderful. My Dad will be retiring at the end of this school year and he wrote a very kind e-mail to his staff and I think everyone should read it! :) Hi All, A poet once observed that we often say the most important things just before we leave, even as we stand in the doorway. Let me see if I can find the right words as I step out the back. The night before I was to begin my first day at Parker High School in August 1973, I drove to Janesville to practice the route. I was 22 years old and I did not want to be late on my first day. I remember pulling into the circle drive on that sweet summer night and - as I sat looking out over the apple orchards and farm fields that surrounded Parker at the time -I wondered what my future would be. I never imagined that this one place could provide all the ingredients I needed to make a fulfilling career and satisfying life. And now as spring erupts over the Wisconsin countryside for the 40th time since I came to Parker, please permit me a moment to reflect and ponder another future. One of the most frustrating things about teaching is the realization that you can’t COPY anybody else. You can only find the method that works best for you. Thank my lucky stars that at Parker I found a group of teachers willing to help me flounder around while I tried to figure out what to do. They soon became my inspiration. All I ever wanted to do was be as good as Mike Griffin at running a class with grace and humor. Or understand the idea of educating the whole child long before it was popular like Mike McKinnon. Or loving and understanding music like Dick Loy. Or knowing how to talk to parents and students like Karen Dixon. Or understanding that all children need to be honored for who they are like John Brinkman. Or being able to make kids believe in themselves like George Farrell. Or being a dedicated professional and mentor like Dan Madden, Jerry Bridgham, Bernie Staller, Ollie, Paul, Kathryn, Dick, Cabby, Pony and many more. This list also includes many here who are not ready to leave yet. I have always been proud to say I teach at Parker. I will miss the easy banter in the PIT and the earnest discussions in the hallways, but I know that you will circle around those new faces coming here next year and help them find a place. Teaching is an exasperating profession. It’s like trying to touch the same spot in a river. Most of you already know this. You also know that nothing else matters if you don’t develop a trusting relationship with your students. Without their permission, you can’t really do your job. Jonathon Kozol says the best thing a teacher can do is “…Entrap them first in fascination. Entrap them in merriment and hopeful expectations”. In this spirit of wonder and curiosity, we can help our students develop the skills and habits they need to find satisfaction in their lives. Unfortunately, we live in an age where forces beyond the classroom are once again trying to hold the river in place so we can measure it. Don’t despair. The Stage Manager in Wilder’s Our Town states, “Whenever you get near human beings, there’s layers and layers of nonsense.” You know better than anyone the delicate balance needed to help kids. Do what you know is best and Parker will be fine. Ted Kooser, in his book Local Wonders, recalled his first teachers; he said, “I know now that I was in the presence of the only angels we are ever likely to make acquaintance of: teachers blessed with the love of small people who are trying to find their place in the world.” If you climb the spiral stair case up to the grid high above Parker’s stage, you will find a crawl space that allows access to the pulley system in the theatre. I never had much reason to go up there, but the last time I did, I saw that my former theatre students had left messages to me and others. Students I have not seen in years, some no longer with us, reached out from the past to say “I was here”. It made me smile . Let me leave you with the thoughts of two of my favorite writers: Untitled By Jim Harrison and Ted Kooser Each time I go outside this world is different. This has happened all my life. The clock stopped at 5:30 for three months. Now it’s always time to quit work, have a drink, cook dinner. “What I would do for wisdom,” I cried out as a young man. Evidently not much. Or so it seems. Even on walks I follow the dog. Old friend, Perhaps we work too hard at being remembered. Be well, Tryg
Posted on: Fri, 31 May 2013 18:52:02 +0000
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