Today was the first official day back for teachers in my school district even though most of us have been back for some time.
My campus is still under fairly heavy construction. Some of the hallways and classroom are off limits. Thankfully, our students don’t start the 2017-2018 school year for another week and a half. By then, the construction in the classroom wings should be completed. *crosses fingers, throws salt over shoulder* The hallway my classroom is in is mostly finished, so I spent several hours yesterday and today arranging and rearranging.
We had a long, but really good, morning meeting with our new head principal. The principal who hired me took an offer to open a new campus within our district, and truthfully, I worried about who would replace her because my campus has a wonderful your family first, your health first “rule,” and the campus has a (mostly) positive culture. We really do care for everyone on our campus. I shouldn’t have worried, though. Our new principal is exactly what we need. He killed in our opening faculty meeting. I’m so excited about this school year and the goals he set for us and the campus.
Something he talked about in our opening meeting was the idea of legacy. What legacy do we leave at our campus? With our students? Their families? The community? What do we want our legacy to be as teachers?
I met with our new principal a couple of weeks ago just to introduce myself and to talk about the vision for our AP program since we are an AP Capstone campus, and as soon as I introduced myself and sat down, he leaned forward towards me and said, “I hear from everyone you are the real deal when it comes to teaching, like the real deal.” I laughed and thanked him, but when I left, I wondered, what does that mean?
Today, I got an idea of what he meant as he described what his idea of legacy is as educators, and I thought about the seventeen years I’ve spent in education and my legacy.
I’m proud to be a public school teacher. I’m a proud public school graduate. I’m a proud public state university graduate -I received my Bachelor of Arts in English and my Master of Educational Leadership from the same public state university. I received an excellent education through the public school system, and I believe I’ve provided thousands of students with an excellent year (or two) of reading and writing instruction through my English classes.
After the meeting, I went back to my classroom to finish going through a filing cabinet. In the first drawer were all the notes I’ve saved from students and their parents and my administrators. I stopped and read each of them. Some are fifteen and sixteen years old. Some are two months old.
As a teacher, the legacy I hope to leave behind is that of a teacher who challenged her students to do what they thought they couldn’t, a teacher who cared deeply about the students she encountered, a teacher who demanded her students respect themselves so they understood why it’s important to respect others, even when the last thing you want to do is be respectful, and of a teacher who helped her students realize they are writers, content creators, who write and create constantly living, little vignettes, of their lives with every sentence, paragraph, paper, text message, blog post, Tweet, Snap, photograph, and video.
But most importantly, I hope my legacy is of a teacher who tried every day to be the kind of teacher to my students that I want for my own children.
The teenagers who sit in my room are someone’s baby, someone’s whole world, just like my S and my AJ. Ultimately, S and AJ are my legacy to this world, but so are the students I teach. I want my legacy for my students to be that of “the real deal,” whatever that means to them.
I don’t know how long I have left on this Earth. I understand the limits of a human life. I’ve stared Death in the face. It came with the words, “You have breast cancer. Find an oncologist immediately.” Death stared back at me with the words, “It’s aggressive, but we can treat it.” I stared Death in the face with every drip of chemo, of Herceptin, of Perjeta into my veins, with every single hellish session of radiation, and in the recovery room after my bilateral mastectomy and after my oophorectomy.
Our nature is to fight death, to fear it, for death is the end if our physical existence on this mortal coil -but it is not our complete end. Our true end is dying without a legacy, whatever that legacy may be -memories, achievements, children, families, journals, pictures, stories.
My new head principal challenged all of us to lead our classrooms with legacy in mind.
Lead looking forward to a legacy. Live knowing you create a legacy.
That’s what lives forever, long after we return to dust.
That’s our forever existence.