Wow! This blog still exists! I wonder how long it has to sit dormant before it is closed automatically. I only post when something causes my thoughts to spiral out of control and I need to sort through them. 

Tonight’s post is brought to you courtesy of the chapel talk tonight at the school where I teach. I’ll describe the chapel talk a little bit more in a minute, but my musings here are not really about that talk; they were just inspired by it.

One of the best and worst things about teaching, especially in boarding school, is that the student body completely turns over every four years. When we make a policy change that will be unpopular with the students, we know that it will be completely forgotten in four years, and mostly forgotten in two. This also sets up a strange contrast in perspective between faculty and students. I have been at my current school for 20 years, so I have seen many changes and the ebbs and flows over the years. For the students, the school begins when they arrive as ninth graders. Whatever they encounter in that first year is assumed to have been the same since the founding of the school. That is an incredible opportunity for them. Anything they do differently is brand new and an amazing contribution to the school, even if it has been done many times in the past. One of the absolutely wonderful things about that is that it is completely true for them in their experience. They DO instigate and develop the changes they make. Their accomplishments are completely real and novel, even if they’ve been accomplished by other students many times in the past. I love that about teaching, and especially love seeing how students put their own signature on the things they do. Even if they’ve been done before, they’ve never been done in quite this way before.

So where’s the tension that is causing me to write tonight? That tension is in the realization that institutional memory is short. That is absolutely necessary for the success of the current students, but also sad when you realize that the accomplishments of students who meant so much to you in the past have already faded into the past. As a teacher, all the students from the past are still a part of my experience and it hurts to see them and their accomplishments forgotten. That doesn’t cheapen those accomplishments in any way, and if they weren’t forgotten, it WOULD cheapen the accomplishments of the current students. The tough part sometimes is celebrating those current students while hurting for those from the past.

It’s probably time to offer a little more context. Today’s chapel talk was by an incredible young woman who will be graduating this spring. She is awesome - an incredibly talented thinker, a tireless worker, and an empathetic leader in the community. She often underestimates her abilities, but in a way that makes her work harder and really appreciate her accomplishments. She also is an avid and talented dancer. Her talk today was about how, when she arrived as a ninth grader, the dance program at the school was very small and not considered a “cool” thing to do. She danced, but was embarrassed about it and tried to hide it. She talked about how difficult it was hiding a part of herself that was so central to her being. She then segued into how important the dance instructors have been to her development as a confident young woman and how much pride she feels in seeing the dance program grow over the years. She talked about how much it meant to her when the dance team received their first ever standing ovation. In her experience spanning four years at the school, every word she said was heartfelt and true. From the perspective of somebody who has been here for 20 years, every word was also completely false.

Almost 10 years ago, my daughter started as a ninth grader at this school. After running a season of cross country in the fall of that first year, she decided to try the afterschool dance program as her winter sport. The program was very small and many on campus didn’t even know it existed. That winter, she fell in love with dance, and over her 12 seasons at the school, she danced for 11 of them. She and a couple of classmates decided they wanted to grow the program and make it an institution. They did just that. Dance became a “cool” thing to do. Their crew grew year after year as they learned different styles of dance and choreography. My daughter and her classmates led extra “captains’ practices” on Saturdays so that those new to dance (like my daughter) could catch up to those with years of prior experience. The instructors were from an outside, world-renowned dance company, which was an incredible learning experience, but meant that the student dance captains had to take care of most of the internal executive tasks that coaches would normally do. By their senior year, these dancers were performing to packed auditoriums with screaming fans. The faculty children all wanted to be dancers and would dance like crazy during intermission and after the show. My daughter is getting ready to start working on her PhD in Computer Science, has beaten cancer, and is a tireless activist for those in need, but watching her development as a dancer and as a leader will always be one of the things I am most proud of her for.

After my daughter’s class graduated, the dance program shrank again. There were some very talented dancers, but there wasn’t that core pushing to grow the program. That set up the perfect situation for tonight’s speaker to arrive on campus as a ninth grader and partner with the new full-time, on-campus director of dance to build a brand new program. Their accomplishments have been amazing, and they are definitely worthy of the praise they are receiving. There is just a part of me that can’t help thinking, “What about my daughter’s experience?” Teaching is a constant cycle of connecting and letting go, celebrating the here and now without forgetting the past. This time it was personal, so I’m having more trouble reconciling it all in my head.

The final thought bouncing around my skull tonight is my own legacy. I’ve devoted 20 years to this school but will be leaving for a new opportunity at the end of the school year. How soon will I be a distant memory? Once this year’s ninth graders have graduated, will anybody even know I was here? Naturally everybody wants to be remembered, but in a lot of ways I hope not. The school will be in the hands of the faculty and students who inhabit its halls, and they need to make it their own. I have a couple of classes that are my “babies” because I am the only one who has taught them for years and I have structured them very differently from other classes. I hope whoever teaches them next year does something completely new and different with them. This thought also gives me the confidence to try to do the same and make a mark on my new school next year. Schools are living, breathing institutions that need to resist the urge to get stuck in the past. That’s easy for the students, but much harder for us teachers.

Back to tonight’s chapel talk. It was insightful and inspiring and I fully celebrate the speaker’s accomplishments. At the same time, I have to say…

To Layne, Maya, Morin, Natasha, Natalia, Liz, Claudia, Joy, Brian, Connie, Felipe, and all the other student dancers and instructors from the Dana Tai Soon Burgess Dance Company – I remember. Your accomplishments are permanently etched in my brain and my experience, and you will never be forgotten. Thank you.