It's "knowing" that matters- the harvest WILL come.

Gifts

Growing up We said a traditional Catholic "Grace Before Meals" daily. I must have uttered the phrase "Bless us O Lord for these thy gifts" hundreds of times always with the understanding we were speaking of the food that was set before us. Today, I'm thinking differently of what is meant by "gifts".

It's been a tough couple of weeks. School's demands are growing. We are being pushed more and more to have conversations about the copious amounts of data we have been collecting and that's been given from the vast amount of tests we continue to give. As a teacher, I feel like I'm spending more time on data and less time on planning... and while I know I've got to find a way to make these things work together as part of my system, I'm not there yet. I'm struggling to see how to marry them. That makes my work less joy- filled and more stressful.

At home, we've been struggling to keep the grass cut and the dishes washed and the laundry washed and folded. There just hasn't been much time for slowing and playing; things we believe in and value.

As I sit here on a Monday morning we've just completed a weekend of celebrating weddings and funerals. I'm feeling a bit drained. Some time for pausing and reflecting is in order. So I stopped. I took a day and decided to pause. I needed some time for catching up and to write.

Beginning and Ends

I'm feeling like I see alot of beginnings and ends lately. I've just witnessed the beginning of life for a beautiful and happy couple. I've seen beginning steps toward more mature decisions and better choices by my students. There have been some ends as well. The loss of my wife's beloved grandmother, the loss of time for detailed planning as I have always known it, and the loss of time for family.

Beginnings and ends have been ever present and more obvious in recent days and thoughts. I'm not sure how to necessarily handle them all as they seem to come and go so quickly and there are only so many hours in a day. So I hang on. And I decided to continue to look for the good and celebrate the positive- no matter what. My wife's cousin chose to take the occasion to remind us in her beautiful eulogy for their grandmother that children, through their young eyes see life for its good, before the eyes of the adult world catch up and confuse what and how we see things. I need to see things through younger eyes again. So I begin looking.

And I find reminders of these good things when I take the time to look. In a blessing before meals "gifts" in my minds eye have gone from the food we were fortunate to receive to the people we are surrounded by. I'm so fortunate during trying times to be surrounded by people that help me stand strong and bring a smile to my face as I struggle some. They are my gifts. I guess I may have spent too much time with bowed head as I uttered those words, failing to look up and see what was right in front of me; the gift of family and friends I was sharing the meal with with in addition to the nutrition I was getting.

Looking up, mid way through last week, I ran into Marge Piercy's "The Seven of Pentacles". And while I didn't have time to enter the entire poem into my journal. I tucked away a few lines that touched me and promised myself I'd get the rest when I had a quality moment for doing so. Her verse (shared below) reminds me of the beginnings and ends I'm witnessing.They remind me that real work; honest attention to detail, and following my heart's passion and recognition of the "gifts" I've received are all worth it. Especially because the fruits come with their internal clock. The long season does yield a harvest worth celebrating. It doesn't matter when the gifts arrive, it's knowing that they will always be present that matters.

So I'll stay the course. I'll celebrate both beginnings and ends. I'll recognize the gifts. and I'll take the harvest whenever it comes. It's always going to be be a part of my stronghold.

"The Seven of Pentacles"

by Marge Piercy

Under a sky the color of pea soup

she is looking at her work growing away there

actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans

as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.

If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,

if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,

if the sun shines and you pick off caterpillars,

if the praying mantis comes and the lady bugs and the bees,

then the plants flourish, but at their own internal clock.

Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.

You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.

More than half a tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.

Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.

Fight persistently as the creeper that brings down the tree.

Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden.

Gnaw in the dark and use the sun to make sugar.

Weave real connections, create real nodes, build real houses.

Live a life you can endure: make love that is loving.

Keep tangling and interweaving and taking more in,

a thicket and bramble wilderness to the outside but to us

interconnected with rabbit runs and burrows and lairs.

Live as if you liked yourself, and it may happen:
reach out, keep reaching out, keep bringing in.
This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always,
for every gardener knows that after the digging, after
     the planting,

after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.

Seeing Stars

We are stars wrapped in skin
The light you are seeking has always been within-

I recently read this meme somewhere and liked it enough that I jotted it down and it eventually made its way into my journal. But the truth is I am seeing stars. and lots of them. There's plenty of light worth reflecting on and writing about.

Like young Le Roy Brown who recently introduced himself to me before auditioning for our Fall production of Sherlock Holmes- a self assured and confident sixth grade boy who broadly smiling, declared "I'm Le Roy Brown, and you are never going to forget me!". A real dancer, this one... true joy resonates from him- and I'm sure he's going to be right. He's cast in the show and already making his presence well- known in wonderful memorable ways.

Or Daniella- one of our "difficult" students from last year's graduating class who dropped by last Thursday's Open House long enough to let us know she was really doing well in HS, and now could see why we were so hard on her last year-  not letting her quit or give up; so confident now she clearly understood and was grateful and let us know with hugs and praise that I could wear for a year- the kind of gift that honors a teacher's efforts, especially on the most challenging of students. We're all so pleased for and proud of Daniella.

I'm seeing stars! Bright shining stars!

Mary Oliver will soon publish another brilliant volume of essays and poems that I'm sure I'm going to love. Last week I read a preview- she writes in Upstream,

"One tree is like another tree, but not too much. One tulip is like another tulip, but not all together. More or less, like people- a general outline, the stunning individual strokes."

Beautiful. and timely. For it's becoming that time of year when the stunning individual strokes begin to manifest themselves in my classroom.

I'm seeing a multitude of individual stars select great words for claim sentences about immigrants as they see bias represented in a drawing from over 100 years ago that they have zoomed in on and sucked the details out of. Technology brings the drawing to life for them in ways that we haven't been privileged to use in years past and the results are astounding.

"According to the artist, Immigrants were not treated good. According to Roosevelt ,immigrants were ignorant and illiterate."

"According to the artist, immigrants passing through Ellis island should be treated different and looked down upon. According to Roosevelt, immigrants don't belong in America and should not be treated fairly."

They're comprehending message and using clever words to sound out as stunning individuals- far beyond what I'm used to or ready for this early in the school year. They actively seek synonyms and choose to express their claims with clear strong words. It's unexpected and delightful these stunning individual strokes.

I'm delighting in stars!

I'm still singing Hallelujah! and learning to make a habit of pausing long enough to notice and delight. These children who were supposed to be so tough and so challenging are giving us plenty to sing about and recognize as awesome first steps toward a year that now seems sure to be filled with so much light.

We just have to choose to look for the light and to see the stars. For stars are a constant even on cloudy nights. They are never so far away that we can not find them if we just choose to look. This is a different kind of astronomy. and I'm enjoying the looking and watching and waiting for the splendor it continues to reveal.

Taking the Walk and Heralding Hallelujahs!

I recently was handed a unique book from author  Maira Kalman, called And the Pursuit of Happiness. Unlike anything I have ever seen the text of this "book" was thrown amongst bold hand drawn- hand painted pictures, cleverly juxtaposed in a way that looked more like my journals than "a book". And I was immediately sucked in.

Admittedly, after a few days, I haven't gotten very far. I'm not just sucked in, but stuck as well. Chapter one appears to a celebration of President Obama's second inauguration- but from an intensely unique point of view. It seems to take the author through a unique journey to joy on a very special day for them. The word Hallelujah is clearly the centerpiece of the celebration. It is prominently displayed on several pages and is used in a variety of contexts to describe the author's emotion on this her day of joy... and I'm fixated on it. Just riveted.

I turn the pages over and over, reading and re- reading. I imitate some of its ideals in my own journal. on multiple pages. and I begin to think.... I mean deeply think. Why am I so attracted to this word? And why now? (Admittedly, I'm kind of a believer in words and stories finding people when they most need them...but I'm truly puzzled by the hold this word has on me) So, why has Hallelujah found me? Why am I so instantly smitten?

Thoughtful curiosity took me to dictionary.com. Hallelujah is defined as a shout of joy, praise, or gratitude. Ok. Digging deeper, as I sometimes enjoy doing, I began looking for quotes that might help me better understand my fixation with this word. (I've even been singing Handel's Hallelujah Chorus in my classroom in the morning- so weird!)

Poking around, I find American author William Kennedy's simple quip, "There is only a short walk from Hallelujah to hoot." It too resonates. The more I think about it, the more I feel I got it...  that's it! The words offer me answer to my question.

For all the anxiety attached to starting a new school year; all the planning, and praying, and worry, none of my fears have really manifested themselves much. Instead, I feel like I've taken Kennedy's short walk. And I wasn't ready for it. But it's an unexpectedly powerful trip. Rather than picking up pieces and rearranging all that I was sure was going to go wrong in a year of many new mandates and firsts, I'm signing and dancing and celebrating all that seems to be going so well. And I think I wasn't ready for this... it's weird, but I like it. :)

So I decided to sit here on a Friday night and embrace it. Let's celebrate!

Let's celebrate great professional development opportunities that arrived just before the beginning of the year and giving great/ perfect food for thought as he year began. Let's celebrate wonderful co- teachers and colleagues who hold me accountable and affirm so much of the work we collectively do to make our floor the best in the building. Let's celebrate great conversations with students as they embrace our crazy routines and unique stories. They've been remarkably "ready" and well prepared. Let's celebrate new initiatives from central office that appear to fit in well with our thinking about teaching literacy without interrupting the flow of our own authentic style of instruction. Let's celebrate my son's great start to second grade and my wife's new found helpfulness in student services in her building. So much is going so well. I could get used to this.

While I'm sure I won't feel like shouting and singing every day of the school year, I'm going to hold on to and stronghold Hallelujah! as long as I can... hoping that it's pleasant beginnings and the musings in my journal will be remain retrievable reminders of what can be as things go right. I gotta believe their presence can be powerful enough to carry me through inevitable rougher days, should they ever materialize.

I'm hoping others out there have found Kennedy's delightful walk to start a new year too. I'm hoping you are experiencing bold, new,unexpected joys too! Hoot! Hoot!and Halelujah!

Strongholding story(telling)

"Yet the knowledge of history is always in a state of becoming and is entirely dependent upon the uncovering and interpretation of the materials that make it up.

There is no history waiting for us like some giant and architecturally perfect edifice that we will at long last discover in the tangled growth of an intellectual forest.


History does not exist for us until and unless we dig it up, interpret it, and put it together. Then the past comes alive or more accurately it is revealed for what it has always been- a part of the present."
                                                                      -Frederick Jackson Turner III, Forward, I Have Spoken


We’re close now. The beginning of the new school year is just a couple of days away. And as usual, I’m not ready. I’ve put in some extra time creating ideas for engaging lessons, gone to some training over the summer, reflected, and had some good conversations with colleagues, but I still don’t feel ready. I have a classroom to finish reconstructing, seating charts to create, and on and on. Getting ready for a new year is never a simple process. But, I’ll get it done. When the students arrive, I’ll be prepared- mostly.

One of my annual “rituals” prior to the start of a new school year involves setting goals for myself. Generally, at the beginning of a new semester I like to adopt a word or phrase with enhanced meaning for me as I start thinking about the task at hand. As this fall comes around the corner I’ve been reflecting on the word “commit”. It’s resonating with me for a variety of reasons.

With all of the new computer programs and processes I’m being asked to consider using as part of my instruction in the Fall I’m kind of stubbornly thinking about work- the tried and trues- that I’m “committed” to not losing. I’m a bit terrified with everything "new", that there is a certain amount of loss that can occur, unless we remain focussed on work that we know still has impact on students. I want to make sure I do that.

As a teacher of history, one of the non- negotiables I’m afraid could get lost is the idea that learning about history should feel like learning about story. Rudyard Kipling once said "If history were told in the form of story it would never be lost." When we teach history by telling our story as a people and how that connects to the present., students make deeper connections to their work as historians. 

 My good friend, professional storyteller Brian “Fox Ellis, once wrote “Time is a circle, not a line, the present, past and future overlap… “All of this to say: Who we are is a collage of family stories and cultural cosmology, who we are, are the stories we tell.” Fox and I agree that storytelling is an integral part of how we carry forward the most meaningful parts of our lives from past to present. In an article he wrote for Northlands’ Storytelling Magazine, Fox says “I was also awestruck by the ways these old stories were relevant to current issues.”

Because I've seen tremendous growth in students who understanding that story is such an integral part of learning about history, I’m committed to continuing to tell great stories and teach my students to learn this skill too. Storytelling has strong connections to the other skills I want students to master as well. It invites students to question and use curiosity as tools that lead to great research and writing.In his article, Fox describes this process- “In researching and writing “Black Hawk’s Band” (a story he tells to help us understand the complexities of indian removal in our native state, Illinois) I kept asking myself, what can we learn from Black Hawk that will give future generations both strength and inspiration? What can learn from our story that inspires us to make the world a better place? How can our stories help us to be better humans?” These are exactly the kinds of questions I want my students to struggle with and search for answers to. This is the type of process that will help them understand themselves in the light of events they study from the past. When they learn to see history as story; our story as Americans becomes more meaningful to them and connects more certainly to their own experience in the present.

If I want them to see time as a circle, story matters. Connecting past to present matters. So, I’ve got to be committed to teaching and learning  history this way. I deeply believe the greatest of historians find their greatest success because they think this way about bring our past to life as part of our current reality. So part of my commitment to students, and what I’ll continue to stronghold is the valueof story in the history classroom. When describing his work as historian and storyteller, Fox says “The goal is to challenge myself, the performers, and the audience to see our lives reflected anew in this bright light from history.” My goal for 2016 is the same.

My students will continue to read and write. We’ll work together to perfect these skills as well. By the end of the year, they’ll be better at interpreting and finding main ideas and using them to write claims, so that they too can carry forward the story of America and say with confidence how it impacts their present generation and personal choices. They will know and understand that they are a great part of the story of this great nation. As historians and storytellers, they will be able to connect the past to the present and bring history to life.

Mending with Mischief

By mid July, I'm missing community. While summer months are filled with time spent filled with family on adventures, I admit that half way through it my mind turns from relaxation and rejuvenation to preparation. Yes, I'm still doing a lot of pleasure reading and sitting on the deck enjoying nature in my back yard, but almost simultaneously my thoughts begin to turn to next year in my classroom. I guess that's normal, right?

As I turn, I've begun dialoguing with colleagues over coffee and lunch and a bit through social media. I've started to peruse educational journals and begun creating calendars as I decide which new risks I'll take because I think they will impact next year's kids. Additionally I'm considering how I will incorporate all the new must do's dreamed up my district's leadership. It takes a lot of good conversation and thought to blend all of this into an authentic learning system that helps students grow academically as well as civically. This, of course, is my charge as a Social Studies teacher of reading and writing and thinking. It's complex.

As the years press on I become more and more aware of the impact good community has on good teaching as we struggle to navigate complexity. One of my favorite authors, Quaker- spiritualist, Parker Palmer says about community, "that it is not a goal to be achieved, but a gift to be received... (but) learning how to relax and receive a gift requires hard work" He further identifies community as "an outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace; the flowing of personal identity and integrity into the world of relationships." That's a lot to think about too, but it resonates with me as this June turns to this July and I start preparing for the year ahead.

You see, as education becomes more and more complex, I admit that the older I get the harder it is for me to always receive the gift of community. The more we are asked to do that often conflicts with my personal strongholds, the easier it is for me to slip into what my colleagues call "splendid isolation". (I don't always agree with the districts leaders and dreamers.)Yet,as much as I feel good about work I alone create for my students to engage in, I know in my heart collaboration and community have a distinct ability to make that work even better. That being said, I resist. As much as I value the conversation and being around like- minded teachers, I often still refuse to embrace change with anything but skepticism. Change is hard work.

I find that so much change has begun to feel like such a challenge to my personal identity and integrity. So instead of embracing it I build walls to isolate myself from it. I build walls to insulate myself from anything that is awkward. And I 've gotten comfortable building walls- except that for the first time since my return to the classroom, changes I've successfully resistance is no longer an option. It's time for me accept that I'm going to have to work differently this year.

Getting to acceptance and feeling better about how to navigate change is a process for me. Getting this point involves a lot of talk with trusted colleagues and reading. I love to read and think and poetry regularly speaks to me as I struggle. For whatever reason, I found myself re-reading some old favorites this summer.
I found my way back to Robert Frost, Mending Wall. In this poem, Frost paints a picture of the process he describes as the annual spring work of rebuilding stone walls that separate neighbors in New England. In the poem he suggests "good fences make good neighbors".

Yet there are some lines in the poem that has me pausing and reflecting differently this July. Maybe I missed it before, or perhaps it has just begun to take on a different significance. Frost says-

"Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder,
If I could put a notion in his head,
Why do they make good neighbors?...
What was I walling in or walling out?...




What am I walling in? walling out? and more importantly... how do I find the courage to stop putting stones on walls just because it makes it easier to resist? If I'm going to receive the gifts given in community and collaboration which I say I value, I'm going to have to more actively remove walls than languish behind them. Ughhh. I like my work and my splendid isolation, so this won't be easy. How do I make it work for me, then? How do I get my self to the gift?

I keep thinking about how or why Frost came to choose the word mischief to describe Spring and newness and wondering. I like mischief. Mischief makes risk taking fun. It brings a wry smile to my face and makes me think about laughing. I definitely like laughing. My heart knows it can definitely embrace mischief- so perhaps its the key to breaking away from the comfort of splendid isolation and back into community. 

Dictionary.com defines mischief as "conduct or activity that playfully causes petty annoyance." I think I'm at my best when my work is playful, so that's good. I don't however want to be annoying, but I do like the idea of being a bit edgy. I think edgy is engaging. So by mischief, I'm considering ways to be playfully edgy as I find ways to incorporate all the demands required of modern teachers.

I think it might be fun to unlock doors with that kind of mischief. So perhaps that's the gift? If conversation and collaboration keeps me focused on being playfully edgy, I'm in.

I'm starting to see change in the light of what this kind of mischief brings, for me and my students. Setting goals around it as I begin my July preparations has changed my outlook significantly.

And I'm proud to announce, lunch collaborations and coffee conversations have already yielded fruit. My co- teacher and I have discussed attacking new frameworks and expectations using a single central text to get at required content. My PLC partner and I have discussed ways to keep using compelling questions and themes at the heart of our work. Some of this would be new for us, yet at the same time allow us time to stronghold much of what we have created over four years as part of our learning system. It also leaves time for the development of new assessments and incorporation of new programming purchased by the district. It's balance.

Instead of feeling anxious, this "mischief" has me feeling energetic and enthusiastic. That's a gift. Now we just have to find the right playfully edgy text and design some great engagements to surround it with. I'm excited about this.

I'm grateful for the gift of good conversation and good colleagues who share my vision for strongholding what I value and believe in, while at the same time challenge me and keep me from settling for "splendid isolation". As July begins I'm feeling more committed than ever to working hard at being a bigger part of community. I'm giving myself that gift this year. (And I'm feeling pretty optimistic in looking at community as a gift to receive my students will benefit too.)

I hope your July planning is helping you find focus too.

Stop, Rest, Notice, Delight

Summer vacation has arrived in the life of this teacher, and I was ready. I typically pretty deliberately take the month of June to recharge, thinking very little about classrooms and students and professional literature, etc. I reserve June for reading books I never seem to have time for during the school year. June is for getting up early, sitting outside on the deck, and immersing myself in history books and story. This June has been wonderfully no different, with one exception.

This June in addition to reading books and literature I enjoy "for fun" and my own high interest, my wife and I have been working with our six year old son on the challenge of reading his first chapter book. I have to admit reading with my own son is very different from being a teacher of reading. And at the same time it's hard to "not know" what I have studied and learning about what makes young people enjoy reading and what helps them become life- long readers.

He's chosen to read a Minecraft book. My goal was to be a dad and try to put the teacher part of me aside, except I am not succeeding. (and I've decided I'm not upset with myself about it.) I won't tell you this has been the best written book I've ever read, but I will tell you it's having a fun affect on my son. It's doing what books are supposed to do... and as a reading teacher, I can't help but see that. I just can't. and I'm having a blast participating in it. Let me explain.

Good books cause kids to think and dream and visualize. Books are suppose to expose to kids to new vocabulary and ask questions. They make kids into enthusiastic explainers and imaginers with lots of "what if" and "if/ then" realities, etc. I've had such fun watching this happen to my son this summer and I simply have no regrets understanding what is happening in his brain as he develops confidence learning to love reading.

I've learned more about Minecraft this summer than I ever thought I would want to. I know the difference between Rainbow Griefers and Creeper Mobs. I get why diamond swords are more valuable than iron ones. He's taught me so much as we work our way through each five page chapter. No chapter is complete without there stopping for explanations of words like "emaciating" that are new to him, but critical to understanding the story. I have seen Justin draw pictures and retell parts of the story that were of high interest to him. Because of all the conversation, chapters take more time to finish, but it's truly enjoyable time. It's been fascinating for me to see reading strategies come to life as a dad. Justin's learning so much in our slow, measured,, cognitive,  and thrilling journey through the world of Minecraft.

I suppose it's fair to reveal that this experience will ultimately alter and impact my classroom as well. It's made me really decide to add more literature to my classroom library so that my students can connect the "history" we are learning to story that I hope will be enjoyable for them. It's made me really consider using excerpts from good literature as sparks that will get students thinking about the "what if's" and "if/ then's" of the topics we immerse ourselves in. I'm confident my time spent in the world of Minecraft will have a splendid impact on my ability to continue teaching reading strategies and exposing students to new experiences as they study history. I'll stronghold some of what I have seen and make it part of my evolution as a teacher of reading.

I recently read a meme that simply said "Stop, rest, notice, delight".

What a perfect string of words to describe my June. As June has traditionally been a time for stopping and resting, I'm not sure I've ever unintentionally noticed as much and delighted in what I have seen. Next week we are pausing to celebrate getting half- way through our first chapter book. I'm thinking bells and whistles and high times when we finish chapter 8. I can't help but know what I know about what helps kids become book lovers, I just never though about seeing it happen as a dad and being so happy about it.

Summer reading has been a blast. It's been something I deeply believe in for a long time. What joy there is in including Justin as a part of my stronghold and perhaps even greater joy in recognizing that love of good literature doesn't only have to be a "June" thing.

"Living" Rooms of Kindness and Clarity and Rejuvenation

"We never know the impact and consequences of a word, an image, a sentence, a prayer, or a smile."
                                 -Elie Wiesel, Holocaust Survivor

"For always roaming with a hungry heart... Some work of noble note, may not yet be done,... Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world... One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will, to strive, to seek, and not to yield."
                                                                                                          - Alfred Lord Tennyson, Ulysses

My grandmother passed at the end of the school year. She as much as any one person I have ever known shaped much of who I have become. Grandma was a reader and writer and a lover of story and all things past. She was the gate keeper of my family history. As a child she shared the world she loved with me. Everything from antiques to country living. A walk into Grandma's living room was an invitation to wonder and question and regularly led to some of the best conversations I can ever remember having with anyone.

Her living room was filled with treasures. There were books and magazines and portraits and paintings all neatly arranged on old antique furniture. Everything had a story. Everything belonged to her history and the things that she loved and wanted to share with those around her. Everything there was warming and ready to be talked about. As I look back I must admit I miss those Saturday mornings just sitting and listening and learning. They shaped so much of who I have become.

Wisely, Grandma fed my love for learning; my hungry heart. She bought me books and found articles I'd enjoy. She shared stories she'd written for her Pen Women's Club about the Great Depression and other cherished times. She passed along family treasures and stories like candy that I could savor. She encouraged me to write with hand written notes on the inside cover of a new book or on a birthday card. I can still remember how she once quipped that I "shared her gift for Blarney", which I admit I wear at times like a badge of honor.

Her kindnesses will not be lost. Her prayers will continue to echo. Her words and sentences and smiles have become much of what I stronghold as an educator. I think Grandma would love my classroom. I hope that it for my students what her living room was for me.

Strangely her passing came at a time of year we as educators use to reflect on the events of the past year. We want to know that all the time and energy and thought we put into our work mattered. We want to know that we touched lives and that children grew.

I'm sure that my grandma, a favorite teacher, touched my life and helped me grow.

In the midst of this reflection and at a time sadness I was handed a note of clarity. It came from a student I had worked with in Drama Club since sixth grade. As an eighth grader she sat in one of my Honors classes. As her teacher I am pretty certain I had passed on a love for history and writing and a joy for learning to her, but in our business one does not always know for sure. Her note confirmed, in a special way, success for me, at a time that I really needed it.

What I received in her sealed envelope was unlike any thank you I have ever received from a student. In the envelope was story she'd penned. The centerpiece of the story was the quote from Elie Wiesel. It's a quote I like to use to help students understand how humans survive events as tragic and horrific as The Holocaust. The quote speaks to me about the legacy we can choose to honor from tragic times, like the Holocaust. I have to believe the legacy associated with honoring struggle and sacrifice lies in the simplest forms of kindnesses we can do everyday. I often tell students every time we do the simplest of kindnesses for each other we honor those struggles. Her hand- written story and its use of the quote was among the highest of honors I have ever felt and known. The time she had taken to construct this story was kindness enough to last a lifetime. Grandma would have loved her story.

This simple act of kindness reminds me, as Tennyson suggests, that it is never "too late to seek new worlds". we must thoughtfully reinvent our "living" rooms so that students feel the kindness and comfort they need to become confident learners. Our "heroic hearts" may at times feel "weak by time and fate", but we must take time to see how conviction and strength of will strongholds us to continue seeking and striving, and never to yield.

A simple act of kindness was the vehicle that brought clarity and rejuvenation to me at a time when I really needed it. I have Grandma and Ellen to thank for that reminder. As summer begins I find myself relaxed and fondly remembering a great lady, Delores Nanette Baird Deane, my grandma. While there is sorrow, there is more joy. What she taught, I learned from, and I have had some success passing down. Seeing some of this manifested in Ellen's story is enough to get me excited for a new school year and new students and new opportunities to seek new worlds.