Always Remember

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for enough good men to do nothing.

Today is the 72nd anniversary of D-Day.  As I sit and watch the rain fall on my first official day of summer vacation I am reminded that any inconvenience or trial or suffering I endure is insignificant in relation to what tens of thousands of young men endured on those beaches of France so long ago.

Rain on the roof?  Imagine the rain of bullets on the front of your Higgins boat, knowing the door will drop in seconds and those bullets will tear through you.

Altered plans?  You've just watched your leaders die in front of you, what you were told would happen didn't, and the bullets and bombs just keep falling.

Feeling overwhelmed?  Put yourself in the wet boots of a 20 year-old kid in a foreign country who has just waded through blood-red ocean water littered with bodies to cross an open beach in a hail of gun fire and upon crossing that beach to relatively safe cover must now scale a hillside towards the source of the shooting and continue the assault.  Kind of makes stopping to pick up milk on the way home seem a little bit trite, doesn't it?

My words cannot do justice to the magnitude of Operation Overlord - I have used Stephen E. Ambrose's book D-Day: June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II, The War documentary by Ken Burns, or the first half-hour of Saving Private Ryan as my sources for understanding the events of D-Day  - so instead I'll use my words to encourage you, respected reader, to use a piece of this day to find out what was so special about that day.  Thousands of soldiers died for us on D-Day - the least we can do is find out how and where they died...and always remember why.

The End

Another school year has come and gone.

Normal humans celebrate the passing of a year in late December; we teachers do the same in early June (late May for the lucky ones).  The dates and seasons might be different, as is the kind of "year" that ends, but the feelings associated with each are very similar.  As our students board busses for their final journey home we look back on the freshly ended school year and think about the successes and failures, the plans that became reality and those that faded away.  We also start looking ahead with the resolute conviction that "next (school) year will be different because..."

My youngest daughter spent her final day in our primary building yesterday.  My oldest daughter is suddenly a sophomore.  Middle daughter moves to the high school next year.  Second graders who still aren't reading as powerfully as needed now become someone else's challenge.  Second graders we have guided to success also move on, meaning hope is now the only guidance we can offer them.  Teammates have resigned for various reasons, and others may do so in the coming months.  Our long-time art teacher is retiring and leaving the country...leaving a gaping hole in our staff and district.  We don't have to wait until September for a different school year to begin; the next year becomes different the instant the previous one ends.

Closing the book on a school year doesn't have to be all sadness; it's more of a 50-50 balance of excitement and sorrow.  I've now taught 18 years, meaning this year's graduating seniors were new-borns (or not-quite-yet-borns) when I began my career...kind of depressing.  But number 18 was the hardest year I've had for a variety of reasons, so I'm not just closing the book on this one - I'm slamming the sucker shut and tossing it in an incinerator.  Happiness.  A new year will bring new teammates with new perspectives and fresh attitudes.  One of my favorite teammates will become a roommate next year and the potential impact of our collaborative powers is already shaking the foundation of our building.  We'll have a fresh batch of Kindergartners, an eager group of 1st graders, and a crew of 2nd graders that we now know well enough to have a solid plan of instruction in place for them on Day One.

I can imagine doing what I do in a different school; I cannot imagine being anything other than a teacher.  Forget the over-used quotes about teaching and its value to society - it's just a really exciting and powerful job.  Every day is different, every student is different, and thankfully, every year is different.  We make our plans and set our goals and then dive in to those days and years on little more than faith that what we do will end up making a difference for someone.  As I watched the tears flow down little cheeks and old cheeks yesterday, saw the love inside the goodbyes, I was reminded for the 18th time that our nine months of faith were exactly what they needed to be.

Another school year has come and gone.