OPENING DAY ADDRESS TO TEACHERS
September 6, 2005
Jeffrey M. Young
Superintendent of Schools
Good morning. I hope you enjoyed breakfast and the chance to renew friendships with your colleagues. Let me take a moment to thank the people who made this assembly possible: Mary Burns, Cheryl Kelly, Dede Reade, Mark Lidano and Tim Keefe, the head custodian here at Newton North.
Each year toward the end of August I like to visit school buildings and inspect the various summer renovation and cleaning projects. And every year I come away impressed with the dedication and professionalism our school custodians bring to their work. To Tim Curry and the entire custodial and maintenance staff, we all say a mighty thank you.
The main reason we are able to get back to work in an orderly manner is the extraordinary effort of our secretaries. These people, whose jobs during the school year run the gamut from assistant principal to surrogate parent, and from crisis counselor to part-time psychologist, keep the system moving. To Bette Lupo and all the secretaries and support staff ... we’d be lost without you.
The key to the excellence of this school system is people. Let me take this moment to recognize the professionals who have given our schools the reputation for excellence they truly deserve. If you have worked in Newton for 20 years or more, please stand so we may thank you for all you have done and still do every day with students.
This week, every school superintendent in the country is probably going to use the phrase “in the 21st century” at least once in his or her opening day remarks. I have just used up my allotment. So instead, let me note that we are now 5% through a certain time period, and it seems an opportune moment to step back and see where we are.
But before taking stock of life here in Newton, I ask all of us to pause for a moment to reflect. Let us be pensive together about the thousands of suffering people, especially the children, in the Gulf Coast. And let us also remember Gretchen Therrien, a brilliant young math teacher at Newton North, as well as Carlos Barrera, a Newton North student, who died suddenly this summer.
As the new school year begins, I am concerned about a number of things yet filled with hope for many reasons. I do see the harbingers of a gathering storm in our country and in our community, yet I also can envision a way through it, and I ask you to join me on this path to a higher ground.
Look at the forces coming to bear on our profession and our lives. Teachers and administrators navigate a veritable sea of demands. Your plate is filled to overflowing with No Child Left Behind, education reform, the age of accountability, MCAS, portfolio assessments, progress reports, smaller learning communities, educating the whole child, communication between school and home, the achievement gap, standards-based curriculum, inclusion, autism, CORI reports, latchkey kids, ageing physical plants, safety, security, terrorism, behavior problems, literacy, college acceptance, traditional curriculum, multicultural studies, the representation of gays and lesbians in our schools, forms to be filled out, reports to be completed, the internet, study skills, organizational skills, critical reading, SATs, international competition, charter schools, school choice, drugs, alcohol, teenage pregnancy. . . and this list, while far from exhaustive, does not even address the most fundamental challenges you face every day of simply teaching the kids what they need to know. . . like how to be a good human being, how to respect human differences, how to add, subtract, multiply and divide, how to write a paragraph. . . and that doesn’t even count the questions they ask, like why the sky is blue, why we went to war, and how we are going to live together in a peaceable society. Let your mind run in this direction for five minutes, and the list of demands and expectations will double. Some days, it all seems too much.
You can rest assured that parents have a list, too. I remember one spring evening a dozen years ago when I attended the kindergarten orientation at Angier School. My daughter Allie was going to start school the next fall. We heard a rich and exciting presentation from the principal and the teachers about what we should expect in kindergarten.
Then, a parent from the PTO told the assembled group about how we could get involved in the school and alerted us to the budget challenges then facing the Newton schools.
At the time, I was superintendent of schools in Lexington, and as I and a hundred other nervous parents listened attentively, I had my epiphany. I realized that no one in that room could have understood more fully the financial issues facing public schools than I did, as I was living it every day and making speeches at similar gatherings about ten miles up the road every evening. But as I sat there, my mind drifted.
I thought I heard my own voice speaking the PTO president’s words, and I suddenly realized…I didn’t really care. Not at that moment, at least. All I really wanted to know was: Would my little girl be happy here? Would she be safe? Was there a bathroom near her classroom? Would she make friends? Would her teacher like her? Would she learn to read? This was a humbling experience. It confirmed for me that teachers, not superintendents, do the most important work in our schools.
These are the same things all parents care about today. All of us want our sons and daughters to be safe, happy and learning. We are hopeful and fearful, willing yet anxious. We count on our teachers and other school staff to deliver our dreams. The dream is really what binds us all together.
Of course, it is not just the challenges before teachers and parents that affect your lives as professionals. The kids, too, bring their own baggage. We have over 6,000 students enrolled in our secondary schools, and as any one of them would tell you, it is not easy being a teenager these days. Go into any bookstore and look at the flood of titles about this or that teenage woe, whether it involves academic pressure or social acceptance.
Consider that by late fall of their senior year, 82% of Newton teens report that they have tried alcohol. Think about the 40% of our 7th and 8th graders who report that they have been bullied in school. Three-quarters of our high school students describe their lives as “somewhat stressful” or “very stressful.” About half of our middle schoolers say the same thing. 15% of our high school students reported hurting themselves on purpose.
For those of you who wonder why it seems harder to teach today than it did twenty years ago, I have just given you three good reasons: our teachers, parents and students are all experiencing life’s overload. It is no wonder we feel overwhelmed and exhausted by the time winter sets in.
Into this crucible, add two more ingredients: the social divide in our country and the economic realities of our times. Almost every day my mind’s eye flashes back to that red and blue map of the U.S. we all saw on television during the presidential election. Blues and Reds both have the truth, the right diagnosis of the problems, the correct solutions, and what’s wrong with the other side for not understanding that? Be assured that there are reds and blues in every single class you teach, just as there are blue-leaners and red-leaners in this meeting this morning.
Maybe we could deal with all this if we had the resources, but we don’t. Time and money are hard to find. Economic strain produces stress, anger and resentment, and the schoolhouse is the perfect stage for this drama to be acted out.
So what are we to do? How do we find the strength and the courage to navigate these stormy seas? Here are three strategies for our collective voyage. First, let’s shorten our sails. I want us to slow down and focus. Let us try to do fewer things but do them very well. This should be a time that we step back, consolidate our gains and move forward together.
Second, even in heavy weather, we must keep the boat moving. Nostalgia aside, we cannot go back to an earlier time, even if we harbor some romantic notion about the good old days. We need to move ahead, continuing to strengthen our system, looking within ourselves and to our colleagues for the solutions to the problems that bedevil us each day.
Third, we need to keep the rudder firmly in hand. The direction we are headed is this: we envision a school system that knows that the most important interactions that occur here are the ones that take place daily between teachers and students in classrooms. It is a place where civilized debate is welcomed as a vehicle for greater knowledge and understanding. It is a place that respects differences and affords every human being the dignity they deserve, regardless of race, ethnicity or sexual orientation. It is a place that prizes the individual and collective work that teachers do daily, beginning when children are 5 year-old entering kindergartners like my daughter those dozen years ago.
This morning, I pause for a moment to illustrate the scope of that voyage by naming the teachers who have combined to educate one Newton student—my daughter Allie. I found it an amazing experience to compile this list, for it reminded me of how many people influence a child’s life, in profound and subtle ways.
Every parent could make the same list, and today on behalf of all Newton parents, I express my deepest gratitude and respect. So thank you. . . Susan Fraser, Nancy Swidler, Geri Russillo, Mimi Concannon, Janet Panaggio, Fran Rametta, Joyce Spenser, Diana Kanter, Janice Peterson, Mark Sweetland, Debbie Kramer, Ruth Chapman, Judy Malone Neville, John Jordan, Bill Sheppard, Brad Harding, Tony Lockhart, Carlton Doctor, Katrina Antonellis, Chicky Helbert, Wally Birchler, Christine Vaillaincourt, Lauren Infantino, Mike Sylvia, Dan Reilly, Aaron Lewis, Annette Day, Michelle Efros, Jennifer Landers, David Curnick, Amy Colton, Beth Sampson, Frank Connors, Susan Lesser-Seltzer, Anne Collins, Sue Meismer, Lisa Alicino, Steve Hage, Derek Van Beever, Javier Mendez, Greg Beaupre, Jennifer Hee, Alan Rotatori, Gwen Smith, Judith Kennedy, Richard Catrambone, Ben Youngman, Jeff Knoedler, Ryan DuBray, Donna Segal, Jenni King, Oliver Todd, Lily Shine, Chris DeMarco, David Deutsch, Barbara Harkins, Chris Antonellis, Tracy Rice, Linda Fries, Mark Albright and Michael Welch.
That’s about sixty of our 1,000 teachers. Every one of you is on someone’s list, and each one of you makes a difference in the lives of children. You, friends, are Newton’s dreamkeepers.
Now, to wrap this up, let me tell you what happened when I took my son Jon to Fenway Park two days ago. Probably because of last year’s World Series victory, most of my connections for tickets dried up this year. Aside from the fact that we did not get to enjoy a game there all season, this also meant that as summer wore on, my stomach grew queasy as I anticipated an unhappy silence during this part of my opening day speech. So, when Sunday morning arrived, I was ready for business.
We landed at Yawkey Way and saw former Sox slugger Jim Rice doing the pre-game show up on the bandstand. I forced Jon to stand with me for a few minutes right next to the stage, fully expecting Jim to invite Jon up there to make a few comments. No such luck. He grew impatient and wanted to go inside the stadium. Then we noticed a couple of players posing for photos with fans as part of a fundraiser for Hurricane Katrina relief. I put my son into a headlock and made him loiter there with me, waiting for the players to recognize us as Jason Varitek’s Newton neighbors. The security guard moved us away. Dejected, we found our seats.
No sooner had I plunked myself down than I heard a voice calling my name. I thought it must be a dream as my eyes flitted around trying to find the source of “Jeff, hey Jeff!” But this turned out to be salt in my rapidly opening wound. The voice belonged to a Newton teacher who inquired whether I had written my Fenway speech yet. I lied and assured her the matter was well in hand.
And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, he appeared. Jon saw him first. The visage wore a Red Sox jersey. My son leapt out of his seat and ran to him. I blinked my eyes. What was a player doing in Section 26 five minutes before the National Anthem? Jon yelled, “Come on, Dad!” so I followed him.
The object of my son’s affection, it turned out, was not a member of the current roster at all. He was a recently retired Newton teacher, dressed for the occasion. We exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, and then the most remarkable thing happened. Newton kids materialized all over the place, from all directions. Like Jon, they had spotted this teacher, and they, too, ran to him. Jon, Evan, Andrew, Samantha, Max—where did they all come from? So what if the game was about to start? A beloved teacher, a couple of years removed from their experience, commanded more interest and attention than the first pitch.
And then I knew what I had to tell you this morning. Kids adore their teachers. Give them your kindness and love and it will come back to you in completely unexpected ways. It didn’t matter that Jon did not snag a foul ball on this day. He caught something much more important—the baseball of caring and teaching and learning every one of you can toss to every girl and boy you meet starting this week. Toss it gently, and with careful aim, and before you know it, you will be playing catch.
I wish you all the best as you commence this year’s journey. I will be at your side. Thank you.