Thank You, Mrs. McCartney

(This appeared in the Aug. 25, 2010, edition of the Fulton [IL] Journal.)

Dear Mrs. Betty McCartney,

You may not remember me all that much. I was a student in your second grade class at Fulton Elementary back in '77, or maybe it was '78, back in the days of the old elementary school on 11th Avenue. I was not an exceptional student. I achieved fairly average grades while managing to stay in fairly above average trouble. So it might scare you more than warm your heart that I am now a private school administrator. But I try to limit the damage by hiring great teachers and then getting out of their way so that they can do what they do best.

Early August I welcomed the teachers back for three weeks(!) of teacher orientation. We tackled issues of educational philosophy and policy, of classroom management, of working with parents, and all the things we do that (we hope) work together to provide a great education. One distinctive we have as a school is our belief that the primary purpose of education is not to prepare students for the global workforce. Rather, what we do in the classroom is about restoring students to the fullness of their humanity in a world that seeks to de-humanize them at every turn. This perspective allows us, at one and the same time, to utilize a rigorous curricula while cultivating within our students the issues that surround the central questions of our existence.

It is concerning those questions of humanity that led me to recall something that you did for me back in that second grade classroom many years ago. To be honest, I don't recall all that much about what you taught that year. I don't remember what time periods we studied in History, or what stories we read in Literature, or what types of functions we covered in Math. I do remember something else, though, that has stuck with me all these years.

I was not in good health the year I was your student and missed many school days. There were weeks at a time when I was not able to get out of bed or leave my home. As is typical when students miss class, you sent my assignments home, either with another student who walked by my house, or by giving them to my parents who picked them up at school. I did my best to keep up with what the class was doing.

But there was something beyond all of this that has meant a great deal to me. I began to miss so many days that on several occasions, after school and on your own time, you came to my house. You would sit in a chair beside that couch where I was confined and worked to get me caught up with everyone else. You taught me the lessons I had missed. You reviewed my assignments. You proctored my tests. You even told me stories of what was going on day to day in the classroom, keeping me as connected to my classmates as possible. And somehow, I did well enough to be promoted to the third grade.

As an educator myself, I know teachers don’t have much energy left at the end of the school day. We are interested in wrapping things up and getting home with enough of our mental and physical capacities left to spend some quality time with our spouses and children. But that year, many of your after-school hours were spent in my living room, making sure I didn't fall too far behind. I don't believe there are many teachers who would do today what you did those many years ago. If there were, in all likelihood current educational policy would forbid it.

So, thank you, Mrs. McCartney. I don't recall what you taught us that year in History, Literature, or Math. But I do know what you taught me about being a teacher, about being human.

Michael R. Shipma
Moore, Oklahoma