Entry # 11: Heart to Heart --
An Early Valentine
This is a love letter. Last night, I attended a performance of Cyrano
de Bergerac in which letters played a key role. Letters, Cyrano knew,
have the power to encourage and sustain love. I hope this letter accomplishes
what Christian's tongue-tied efforts at communication did not.
So, how do I love you? Let me count the ways.
You are one of the youngest teachers on the staff of mostly long-timers.
You learn from them but they do not limit you. In fact, your example improves
the teaching they do. Because you are kind, sensitive, bright, eager and
naturally modest about your own considerable abilities, people trust you
and as a consequence, what you say. They follow your lead and find it worthwhile.
You grow every day that you enter a classroom. I have been watching you
closely for three years because in your classroom I always see the vision
I have for the school made real and in action. I watch you as I pass by
and drop in. Mostly, you listen. You watch. You intervene with a light touch.
Your head is cocked to one side and you lean toward the talking child. He
knows you care.
You make children work hard but how proud they are of the work they have
produced! When I began teaching, I had to find my own way. The bell rang.
We teachers went to our respective classrooms never to see or talk to one
another again about the problems we faced -- which certainly were the same
from room to room. I am so grateful that this situation is different for
you.
You have had good teachers who were themselves good teachers, and you learned
their lessons well. You cast your net widely, reading, talking with others,
and thinking about your own work, always wondering if there were better
ways. When you thought there were, you pursued a different tack, risking
failure and embarrassment. Such specters you met with a courage and resolve
that was unusual. And your natural good humor and wry world view were natural
assets to see you through the setbacks of your first days in the classroom.
Your mentors saw great promise in you right from the start. You are at the
center of my learning universe which is this school. When I see you working
with children, see the children work, and talk with you as you reflect upon
this work, my heart soars. You are the teacher I would like to think I would
have become. You are the teacher I wanted to be. You are the teacher I wish
I had in the sixth grade.
I think I would have found myself sooner with you holding the torch to help
me find my way. Parents sing your praises because you are the teacher they
wished for their child before they even knew you existed.
As I peer through your door . . .
Standing outside your door, I peer through the glass frame into your classroom.
Children are nestled in corners, on pillows, backs against walls all around
the room. They do not notice me until I enter. What are you reading? They
fall over themselves like eager puppies delighting in the opportunity to
talk about their reading, clearly in some sort of love themselves.
Same beginning, different class. Students in pairs and quartets around the
room pass papers and examine one another's work. Your hands are clasped
together in genuine delight at what one has written. This girl knows she
has created something special because you tell her why it is good. A minimum
of gushing takes places, just conversation. One writer to another. It is
just what I hoped I would see. Your students fairly glow with their newfound
sense of potent control over their writing and its ability to please, to
inform, and to be remembered. They can scarcely wait to share it in a writers'
celebration.
You have a distinctive personal style. Your flair for drama and dramatic
rendering of text enthralls these young members of your audience, AKA your
class. You become different characters as easily as a chameleon changes
colors. You know the slang of the adolescent and their songs and they seep
into every example you offer. They know you really know and consider you
hip, more like them than like the rest of us. Raucous laughter also is a
draw that pulls me from the hallway into your room. Sometimes I don't get
it. They always do and the joke is a shared one.
I cannot recall having heard a discipline word at any time I have been in
your class. You have the occasional child who would keep you at a distance.
Because I see your success with so many, I know the difficulties lie with
the child. Your invitations continue when others would have long since stopped
trying.
How can I help you thrive?
These are the ways and whys of my love for you at the beginning years of
a career that will shape and mold thousands. You will have launched these
thousands readers and writers when your classroom days are ended. What satisfaction
you will gather on your journey.
But I have fears and worries. How do I protect your tender vulnerability
as you go through National Board certification? How do I help you spread
your learning and insights without alienating others? How do I surround
you with provocative ideas?
How do I stay in touch with you to provide just the lightest touch of encouragement
when you face failure and disappointment? How do I let you know that balance
in your professional life and personal life is important and it's all right
to take time one from the other to ensure the survival of both? How do I
make sure your journey is a long one with a happy ending? I do not know
the answers to those questions, but I shall seek them every day that we
share days under the same school roof.
What I desire, more than any other thing, is to lead a school where you
are nurtured and supported as a risk taker, as a leader, learner, and friend.
I love you not for who you are so much as for what I become as one who works
with you.
At your side, behind you, in front of you, I become the kind of principal
I want to be. Maybe not all the time, but working with you, I glimpse the
possibilities of a near perfect world in school. In this school, learning
can be magical for children because they work in a charmed classroom in
which you spin wonders.
As surely as an enchanted forest holds the promise of adventure and challenge,
so does your classroom. It is a place of magic and wonder where you guide
these children to discover that, all along, they had the power to conquer
all obstacles and vanquish all foes.
The more of my heart you steal,
The more heart it seems I have.
"Plus tu me prends du coeur, plus j'en ai."
from Cyrano de Bergerac, Act III
Edmond Rostand
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