RUGator

Just when I needed it, I received this from a parent of one of my students:

As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of

school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked

at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was

impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a

little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did

not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he

constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got

to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his

papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting a big ‘F’ at

the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each

child’s past records and she put Teddy’s off until last. However, when she

reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is a bright child with a ready

laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners… he is a joy to be

around..’

His second grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is an excellent student, well liked

by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal

illness and life at home must be a struggle.’

His third grade teacher wrote, ‘His mother’s death has been hard on him.

He tries to do his best, but his father doesn’t show much interest, and his

home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken.’

Teddy’s fourth grade teacher wrote, ‘Teddy is withdrawn and do esn’t show

much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and he sometimes

sleeps in class.’

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself.

She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents,

wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy’s. His

present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a

grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the

other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a

rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was

one-quarter full of perfume.. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she

exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the

perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough

to say, ‘Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.’

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day,

she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to

teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she

worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged

him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of

the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love

all the children the same, Teddy became one of her ‘teacher’s pets..’

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her

that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote

that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still

the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things

had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school, had stuck w ith it, and would

soon graduate from college with the highest of honours. He assured Mrs.

Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had

in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he

explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a

little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite

teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer…. The letter

was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that

spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He

explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was

wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place

that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs.

Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several

rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume

that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson’s ear,

‘Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making

me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.’

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back.. She said, ‘Teddy,

you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a

difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.’

(For you that don’t know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr at Iowa Methodist in

Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

Warm someone’s heart today. . . pass this along. I love this story so very

much, I cry every time I read it. Just try to make a difference in

someone’s life today? tomorrow? just ‘do it’.

Random acts of kindness, I think they call it!

‘Believe in Angels, then return the favor

My friend told me that Davey Lopes reminded him of me. Even as a die-hard Yankee fan, I thought that was cool.

I wrote to my coach and told him that this picture of Rutgers head football coach, Greg Schiano reminded me of him.

I saw this picture and it reminded me of how hard my heart was beating last night.

And then I saw this picture and was reminded that he’s only a freshman:

You know it really doesn’t matter how much we talk about the games we watch. I’m thinking particularly about this year’s ALCS between the Yankees and the Angels. But it could be any sporting event.

None us knows how these things are gonna play out. And it drives me crazy (doesn’t take much). The uncertainty. I watch the pre-game shows, listen to the “experts.” But you know what? None of it matters. It’s all nonsense because until the game is played, nobody knows anything for sure. There’s no certainty. It’s all grey. The ball still has to be pitched, hit, and maybe fielded. All bets are off once the games begin.

Sort of reminds me of……

There are three deep cuts in my heart. My sports heart.

1976. Final Four. A Jersey-boy roots for Rutgers. I’d graduate from RU fourteen-years later.

1977. The Sun Bowl. From snowy New Jersey, that same Jersey-boy would watch the orange-helmeted University of Florida Gators play Texas A&M. I’d leave my heart in Gainesville as an undergraduate.

My whole life. New York is the baseball capital of the country. Born and raised in New Jersey, I had no choice. The Yankees were offered to me. They stuck.

And to this day, I die hard for all three teams. I’d been scarred.

I got fired today. Was sort of cool.

Awaiting my loop today, Mr. Trump rode by. It IS his course, you know.

So I “pointed” to him. His response?

You got it.

I got “fired” as he pointed right back at me.

I loved it.

I loved it because he always makes time to give the caddies a friendly greeting. And to give us some good-natured teasing too.

Can’t make it up.

I Slept, and Dreamed that Life was Beauty

I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty;
I woke, and found that life was Duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shalt find thy dream to be
A noonday light and truth to thee.

Ellen Sturgis Hooper

The Dial (July 1840) p. 123

I had hoped to do better.

But that’s the best I could do. For them. I wanted to say something pithy. But I had nothing. And as they looked to me, for answers, I felt inadequate.

Sometimes you need a song that you can just crank up.

This is one of those jams.

“Early in the Morning,” by The Gap Band

“Recognition is the greatest motivator.”

Gerard C. Eakdale

Reading about Penn State’s iconic coach, Joe Paterno, I learned of the “experiment” he put into place early on in his career.

That high academic standards and athletic achievement were not mutually exclusive.

Paterno himself played football as an undergraduate at Brown. His parents wanted him to go to law school. He had other plans.

And so I borrowed an idea from him.

Perhaps I could demand high achievement from my students. But how would I do this? I didn’t have the athletic fields to reinforce any classroom ideas I might try out on them.

So I stumbled upon something else.

As a first year classroom survival technique, I got to know my kids. What made them tick? Where were they from? Who were their parents? What if I put them (the kids) first and not the “material?” It’s all I had. I didn’t know any better.

Show them that you love and respect them and they’ll run through walls for you. That popped into my head. I was on the look out for ways to recognize them.

Nicknames, likes, friends, aptitudes, eye-contact, accountability, one on one conversations, listening more than speaking.

In short: THEM.

Simple.

Not easy.

But, it works.

Can you do that?

Put others first. Listen more than you speak. Build others up. Hard work. Persistence. A positive attitude.

It never ends. Isn’t easy. Preaching to myself. Constant reminding.

It keeps me up at night.

And gets me up in the morning.

This is what I’m talking about.

http://videos.nj.com/star-ledger/2009/04/phillipsburg_and_easton_replay.html

Another time ago, I sat at a desk.

I was a substitute teacher. In for a middle school science teacher who’d gone off for a week or two to find himself. As I sat there, I wrote down on a piece of paper how much I dearly wanted to have license to sit there. Without the word “substitute” attached.

It seemed so far off.

I was in another job. One I hated. It paid the bills. But at what cost? My soul?

So I tried to plan. With all the obstacles in the way, it seemed a daunting task.

Now I sit at another “desk.” My own kitchen table. With the reality of another school year staring me down tomorrow.

That other time was 15 years ago.

When I began my teaching career, I hoped for a time when I could call one of my students “colleague.” Hoping to inspire a young person to follow the path I had fought so hard to go after.

And just last week (during an in-service staff meeting), I heard my name called out from across the room.

Turning toward the voice, I found that student.

She had gone off to high school and college, and now she had become a teacher. And she told me of something I had mentioned to her another time ago.

“You’d make an excellent teacher.”

And with those forgotten words uttered by me, she had set forth too.