Tribute

Tonight after school we gathered to remember a friend. "We" means teachers, other staff, parents, and students who wished to honor the memory of Mrs. S., a kindergarten teacher who died suddenly last spring. We planted a tree outside her former classroom and put in a garden along the playground that we now call "Mrs. S.'s Kinder-Garden". But the best way for me to honor her memory is to reach into my heart and tell you about her.

The kids called her Mrs. S. I called her C.
C. was teaching in her dream job. I remember when she got the job: full day kindergarten, a fabulous school, not far from home. How she beamed! She kept saying, "It's exactly what I wanted!" And it was a perfect fit for her. She had large classes -- too large, really, for kindergarten -- but she handled them with ease, the experience of years and the knowledge and understanding of the children's ages. We teased her that she looked like a mother duck with a looong line of ducklings behind her when she walked them down the halls.
Students, parents, and teachers adored her. She called me one night and asked, "What's this 'Terrific Teachers' thing on TV? Why are they coming to see me?" Well, C., it's like this. You ARE a terrific teacher, and parents from your class want to be sure that you know it.
I still have trouble putting her in past tense. Yes, she was a terrific teacher, and a terrific person as well. When my father died, she was one of the first to hug me. She didn't say a word until she knew I was ready. C. could always make the lunchroom feel light-hearted, even on a tough day. She was the reason I came to the lounge to eat lunch instead of working through lunch eating at my desk.
I dressed in Green Bay Packer garb today because C. wouldn't miss a chance to wear her green and gold. Through thick and thin she backed the Pack. We commiserated when they lost and celebrated together when they won.
C. was one of the most understanding and caring people I've ever known. She knew when (and how!) to cheer someone up, and when to let them vent their troubles.
Her death came suddenly. She was on a field trip with her students on a Monday morning and went home that afternoon not feeling well. By Wednesday she had been hospitalized, and on Friday morning we were told that she was not expected to live. Still giving even in death, she donated her organs for transplant.
I miss her every time I walk into the school building. There's a hole where her smile and laughter used to be. But she'd be upset with me for being sad; she'd want me to go on and enjoy teaching, enjoy the Packer games, enjoy her tree, enjoy the garden, and enjoy life.
It's fitting that she will be remembered through a flower garden and a tree. Like her influence, these will live on. Like her, they'll make me smile. And they'll remind me how precious life is.

Stumble It!

I was reading the lovely Mir today. She was talking about an impending trip south with her adorable children and all of the anxiety it caused, even the anxiety unrelated to the trip. "I need to have the house clean because if the plane crashes I don’t want people thinking 'Such a tragedy, but would it have killed her to scrape the toothpaste out of the sink?'”
She reminded me of a talk we had at school last spring. After our friend Cindy's death from meningitis, we took some time to clean her room and prepare it for the summer. It was a good way for us to say goodbye to our friend and colleague, share some memories, and keep her stories alive a little longer.
Cindy was amazingly organized. As we took down the June calendar and the song posters around the room, we found that their storage was obvious. She had a place for everything, and everything in its place. Somehow, this wasn't an obsessive-compulsive thing. The time and space she saved by keeping her multitude of materials in order allowed her to spend more time where it counted: teaching the kindergarten children she loved.
The day she went home, not even knowing it was the last time she'd teach, Cindy had left sub plans (for one day) and her usual to-do list, with the ta-da part (finished goals) crossed off. When it became evident that she was more seriously ill than she'd thought and she was in no shape to write plans, the substitute was able to work from her to-do list and her planning book.
As we cleaned the room after school ended and just two weeks after her death, a few of us talked. We always leave emergency plans in or near our sub folders in case we get in an accident or the house is on fire or something happens to prevent us from writing sub plans for the day. But were our plans in order well enough that someone could come in and teach for us if we died suddenly?
I looked around my desk and thought about the tilt-a-whirl I've been on since having the flu, and thought yes, someone could teach for me. My plans are in order, my copies are made, and I'm organized enough that a substitute teacher could find everything he or she needed. My gradebook, however, is another story. I have stacks upon stacks of math papers that need to be entered in the gradebook and filed. I'm almost up to date on science and reading. But math -- oh, my, math. Somehow, the paperwork of math is the hardest to keep up. It's the daily grind of it, added to the number of kids out with flu and/or bronchitis and/or strep right now, and keeping their make-up work in order with the others.
Well, I guess that means I don't dare get sick before parent-teacher conferences in two weeks. Because really, who would finish my gradebook and calculate the grades?
And the sink would still be full of toothpaste!

Stumble It!

Overheard

A teacher died and went (of course) to Heaven. At the gate she was asked, "How can you be of service here?" She replied, "Well, I'm a teacher, so I'd be happy to teach here, too." The new classroom appeared: 40 students, no materials, no books, no tech support, no clerical assistance. She reacted strongly. "This looks impossible! How can you expect me to do my best work in a situation that's set up for failure?"

Bang. Switch venues.

Now in the opposite locale, a handsome devil asked her the same question. "How can you be of service here?" She replied with a sigh, "I'll teach." Her new classroom appeared, this time with a much different set-up. 15 students. Books, papers, pencils, pens, computers with current software, clerical time, useful professional development, and more. "What? How? I don't understand," she stammered.

The devil responded, "Well really, Mrs. Teacher, think about it. Whenever you asked your elected officials for this kind of classroom, where did they tell you to go?"


As the 2007-2008 school year ends, please consider how to make the future of education even better. Please vote for candidates who understand and support quality education for all students.

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