There will be no hot takes today because you most certainly have your own. There will be no inspirational words because I haven’t any. I will tell you that the only way I am getting by right now is to limit my contemptation of reality to very short moments at a time. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that the kind of people who read this are not the kind of people who would slap a laughing face emoji on it.
What I do have for you today is a great little story.
*****
Mr. Atwood was my AP US History teacher. He was a mentor, advocate and guide in turbulent adolescent years. I’ve written about him before.
Teacher Appreciation Week is coming up. Are there teachers who support students by honoring both their enjoyment and risk-taking? Write them a note. Let them know how they have made a difference for your child.
My AP American History Teacher was that person for me. His contribution to the person, and teacher, I have become was so great that I made the trek to Connecticut with my husband and daughter when I heard that he was retiring. Thanks, Mr. Atwood. Your work lives on in me.
And in my students. - - Soapbox Wednesday, May 1, 2013
In the early hours of Election Day, full of hope, I sat down and wrote Mr. Atwood a letter. I had done some Internet sleuthing and thought I might have located his son. And that meant I might be able to get current contact information for his dad.
Dear Mr. Atwood,
I’ve been meaning to write you and thank you again for everything you did for me in AP US History at Westhill High School. It’s early on Election Day and I am wide awake. Now feels like a good time.
I brought my husband and daughter to meet you right before you retired. As a teacher myself it was really important to me that you knew what a huge impact you had on me during really difficult years of my life. You truly were a lifeline. I struggled in school while being told I was too smart to be struggling.
You made me feel like I had something to offer, perfect or imperfect.
Guess what? I was diagnosed just shy of the age of 62 with ADHD. Go figure! They didn’t think girls could have ADHD back then. They were wrong.
Thank you for believing in me and for making your classroom a place where we always felt you were genuinely happy to see us. I was Snoopy, Liz was the Little Red Haired Girl, Jenny was Lucy, and Ken was Charlie Brown. That was the year your first child was born and you had some very sleepy days in the classroom.
Wow, we were all so young.
I never did write a musical about the Robber Barons called “Admirals and Commodores.” Sorry about that. You once said that I could write popular history. Instead I became an early childhood educator and I’ve been writing a community blog since 2012. It’s called Village Green/Town².
I hope you are well and that our democracy holds up and - - most of all - - that you know how profoundly valuable your teaching has been. I’m sure I am not alone.
Sincerely,
Julia Jackson McCready
Westhill High School ‘77
Mount Holyoke College ’83
I reached out to the email address I had for Mr. Atwood’s son and then I waited. Evening passed, and morning came: Wednesday. As time passed I began to wonder if I had guessed wrong, followed the wrong set of clues. The news from the election grew grim. I lost any sense that I had anything to hope for.
And then the email came, confirming my guess and with it the words: he would love to hear from you. I finally had it: an address, and an open door. I called up the letter I had written and added one thing at the bottom:
*Not so optimistic about the democracy right now. Then I clicked “send.”
Evening passed, and morning came. It was Thursday. Everything about the world around me was going to hell but inside me I had one tiny spark: the hope that Mr. Atwood would get my letter and that he might write me back.
Evening came. I noticed something unexpected in my email box. It was a letter that began,
“Dear Snoopy.”
It wouldn’t be fair to post it here because I don’t have his consent. I will share one snippet.
Your message today meant so much to me. Especially this year when I have done so much thinking about the past and the topic of what's next. I am happy to hear that I was helpful in your life. And you, are you counting down the years/days/minutes to retirement? The musical awaits ;-) or maybe just the music.
God bless you, Mr. Atwood. In a week of darkness you have been a great light.
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