Teachers
Graduations loom large once again. The next generation begins its legacy as they collect their diplomas and start the next chapter of their lives. It is a scary time for these graduates. The world is a much different place than when I graduated. But as these new graduates face a brave new world, they should be comforted by the fact that they have been taught and prepared by teachers who they will come to respect in a whole new light not long from now.
I recently finished re-reading a book called Tuesdays With Morrie, by Mitch Albom. I'm amazed every time I finish that book. It touches me deeply, and I am haunted by its lessons.
The book is about a man named Morrie Schwartz and his battle with Lou Gehrig's disease. Actually it's less about Schwartz' fight for life than about the incredible lessons he teaches the author, Mitch Albom, during their weekly visits. Albom was a former student of Schwartz' at Brandeis University. The two had lost touch after Albom graduated, but were reunited when Albom saw his old professor featured on a segment of Nightline. Their friendship renewed, the pair began visiting with each other on Tuesday afternoons, during which time Schwartz imparted the wisdom of a dying man. Lessons that could only be taught by a man facing his own mortality.
I cry every time I read this simple little book. It challenges me to think about life and death and friendship and what we are taught by others. It makes me think about the responsibility we have in how we live our lives, and subsequently how we face our deaths. It makes me think about what an effect human beings can have on one another, and what an incredible gift that truly is.
The last paragraphs of the book always hits home with me:
“Have you ever really had a teacher? One who saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that with wisdom, could be polished to a proud shine? If you are lucky enough to find your way to such teachers, you will always find your way back. Sometimes it is only in your head. Sometimes it is right alongside their beds.
“The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week, in his home, by a window in his study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink flowers. The class met on Tuesdays. No books were required. The subject was the meaning of life. It was taught from experience.
“The teaching goes on.”
The raw emotion of those words touches my soul and reminds me of the absolute power of human relationships. Especially that of teacher and student. It reminds me of my teenage years when I was all but lost in life and suddenly I had all these wonderful people placed in my path who helped guide me into adulthood from that tenuous place that is adolescence. Some of these people ultimately became my teachers, my counselors, my friends, and my mentors. Many are still in my life. And I owe them a world of thanks. I have been blessed with some of the most magnificent teachers. People who inspired me and helped me to find my way in the darkness. People who helped me to find my voice and become confident enough in myself to raise that voice for a higher cause. These people have guided me and supported me through some of the worst times and have celebrated with me through some of the best, and it is an honor for me to call them my teachers and my friends. Mrs. Campbell in third grade, and Mr. Lemminen in fifth. Mrs. Lyons, Mr. McLaughlin, Mr. White, and Mr. Costello in Junior High. And in High School, Mrs. Cosgrove, Mrs. Publicover, Ms. McKay, Mr. Weisner, Mr. King. In college, Profs. Littlefield, Hunter, Prageant, and Young. There are more, too many to name. Not just traditional school teachers, but teachers in life, ministers, colleagues, advisors.
A lot of time has passed since I have seen many of these people. But they have never stopped teaching me. And when I call, they are there, ready to listen or offer advice or a loving word. They have always done so without judgment and with unconditional understanding. They have never given up on me, their student.
We don't get together often, most of us. But I have come to rely on their presence as a stabilizing force in my life. Their lessons stay with me. My life is a work in progress. The goal is not to be perfect, but to do the best I can. My teachers have never required perfection of me. Only the willingness to be honest with myself and with them, and the resolve to do my best. I live my life according to the lessons taught by these people, my teachers.
Mitch Albom and Morrie Schwartz lost touch after Mitch graduated from Brandies. Their friendship was renewed when Mitch found out that Morrie was dying. I feel fortunate that the friendship I have with some of my former teachers continued after I graduated. I was lucky enough to find my way to such teachers. And I know I can always find my way back.
For the graduates of 2004 I would say only that it is time for you to come into your own. Adulthood awaits you, and you have been well-prepared by these wonderful people we call our teachers. Take the lessons they taught into the world and make it your own. This is your time; the world awaits your contribution.
I recently finished re-reading a book called Tuesdays With Morrie, by Mitch Albom. I'm amazed every time I finish that book. It touches me deeply, and I am haunted by its lessons.
The book is about a man named Morrie Schwartz and his battle with Lou Gehrig's disease. Actually it's less about Schwartz' fight for life than about the incredible lessons he teaches the author, Mitch Albom, during their weekly visits. Albom was a former student of Schwartz' at Brandeis University. The two had lost touch after Albom graduated, but were reunited when Albom saw his old professor featured on a segment of Nightline. Their friendship renewed, the pair began visiting with each other on Tuesday afternoons, during which time Schwartz imparted the wisdom of a dying man. Lessons that could only be taught by a man facing his own mortality.
I cry every time I read this simple little book. It challenges me to think about life and death and friendship and what we are taught by others. It makes me think about the responsibility we have in how we live our lives, and subsequently how we face our deaths. It makes me think about what an effect human beings can have on one another, and what an incredible gift that truly is.
The last paragraphs of the book always hits home with me:
“Have you ever really had a teacher? One who saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that with wisdom, could be polished to a proud shine? If you are lucky enough to find your way to such teachers, you will always find your way back. Sometimes it is only in your head. Sometimes it is right alongside their beds.
“The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week, in his home, by a window in his study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink flowers. The class met on Tuesdays. No books were required. The subject was the meaning of life. It was taught from experience.
“The teaching goes on.”
The raw emotion of those words touches my soul and reminds me of the absolute power of human relationships. Especially that of teacher and student. It reminds me of my teenage years when I was all but lost in life and suddenly I had all these wonderful people placed in my path who helped guide me into adulthood from that tenuous place that is adolescence. Some of these people ultimately became my teachers, my counselors, my friends, and my mentors. Many are still in my life. And I owe them a world of thanks. I have been blessed with some of the most magnificent teachers. People who inspired me and helped me to find my way in the darkness. People who helped me to find my voice and become confident enough in myself to raise that voice for a higher cause. These people have guided me and supported me through some of the worst times and have celebrated with me through some of the best, and it is an honor for me to call them my teachers and my friends. Mrs. Campbell in third grade, and Mr. Lemminen in fifth. Mrs. Lyons, Mr. McLaughlin, Mr. White, and Mr. Costello in Junior High. And in High School, Mrs. Cosgrove, Mrs. Publicover, Ms. McKay, Mr. Weisner, Mr. King. In college, Profs. Littlefield, Hunter, Prageant, and Young. There are more, too many to name. Not just traditional school teachers, but teachers in life, ministers, colleagues, advisors.
A lot of time has passed since I have seen many of these people. But they have never stopped teaching me. And when I call, they are there, ready to listen or offer advice or a loving word. They have always done so without judgment and with unconditional understanding. They have never given up on me, their student.
We don't get together often, most of us. But I have come to rely on their presence as a stabilizing force in my life. Their lessons stay with me. My life is a work in progress. The goal is not to be perfect, but to do the best I can. My teachers have never required perfection of me. Only the willingness to be honest with myself and with them, and the resolve to do my best. I live my life according to the lessons taught by these people, my teachers.
Mitch Albom and Morrie Schwartz lost touch after Mitch graduated from Brandies. Their friendship was renewed when Mitch found out that Morrie was dying. I feel fortunate that the friendship I have with some of my former teachers continued after I graduated. I was lucky enough to find my way to such teachers. And I know I can always find my way back.
For the graduates of 2004 I would say only that it is time for you to come into your own. Adulthood awaits you, and you have been well-prepared by these wonderful people we call our teachers. Take the lessons they taught into the world and make it your own. This is your time; the world awaits your contribution.
posted by M at
1:47 AM
0 Comments
