In honor of
James H. Carter, Music Teacher
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Give Thanks While You Can
While eating lunch today, I flipped on the TV to see what was on PBS. The show Colorblind was being aired. PBS's summary of the show says, "Scattered to the winds by the violence of the 1967 Detroit race riots, an unusual group of almost all-white grade school students reunite in their forties to discover how each of their lives had been profoundly impacted by their beloved African American teacher, Mr. Bell."
I was touched too see a room full of adults in elegant attire turn into grinning schoolchildren once again when their beloved teacher entered the room. One by one, each person spoke about the influence this gentle man had on their lives, and how his legacy is being passed on to their children in the way they parent. There weren't many dry eyes in the room as the tributes were offered.
Later in the documentary, Mr. Bell talked about how very rare it is for elementary teachers to ever know the direction their students' lives take. Usually, people return to their high schools to thank those teachers, the ones they knew as young adults before they were launched into their adult lives. "But have you ever thanked your elementary teachers? The ones who got you ready for all that?" Mr. Bell asks. A former student was also interviewed later in the film, at sunset on a beach. As the sun sank behind him, he said, "Tomorrow may never come, so you have to act today."
I began remembering the teachers who most touched my life. I thought of Mrs. Paul, my 7th grade English teacher, who read to us, taught us to write creatively, and flamed my already burning passion for books and literature. Mrs. Thompson, my fourth grade teacher, who just absolutely loved us even when we were goofy, let us put on plays and have snowball fights, and got us excited about the history of Wisconsin through her enthusiasm. Mr. Rostkowski, my high school chemistry teacher, who taught me inorganic chemistry so well that my first semester of college chemistry felt like an easy review. Mrs. Wenzel, my volleyball coach, who graciously welcomed our rowdy team into her home for pizzas when we won a home game. We won a lot, and now I wonder if she wished we'd lost now and then!
But the teacher who stands out to me most is my dear elementary and junior high band teacher, Mr. Carter. He always had a smile for us and acted as if the sounds we budding musicians made were as glorious as the London Philharmonic's. He conducted with gusto, beaming when he saw us connect with the feeling of a song. He tolerated our incessant demands to play a piece we all loved, "Wheatland", over and over again. When a clarinetist produced an ugly squeak that made everyone wince (as I did on occasion), he would just say, "If you're going to make a mistake, make a big one!" with a smile of reassurance.
The moment he became my true hero, though, happened at Parent/Teacher conferences. I was a painfully shy, terribly self-conscious girl in middle school. I had the burden of being labeled a "brain", lacked any kind of fashion sense whatsoever, and self-confidence was something I had yet to discover. Mr. Carter liked me, though, and always had a smile and a joke to cheer me up. At conferences, Mr. Carter attempted to talk with my parents about how sad I seemed much of the time. I don't remember what he said, but my father made a disparaging comment about me and tried to pass it off as a joke, as he often did. Mr. Carter reacted instantly and while I don't recall his words, I clearly remember his tone of indignation as he took my father to task. I had never seen another adult stand up to my father before, and Mr. Carter did it for me! I was amazed that a teacher was willing to set aside his professional role and act as a caring human being on my behalf, and I felt less invisible and more loved.
On the last day of 8th grade, I approached Mr. Carter to say good-bye. I'd be heading off to the high school across the street in the fall and would rarely get to see him anymore. I bought him a "Best Teacher" coffee mug with my babysitting money, wrapped it myself, and presented it to him with a shy smile. When he opened it, he got tears in his eyes and gave me a hug while telling me how much he'd miss me. I was sad and happy all at the same time.
Throughout my career as a counselor and educator, I've remembered Mr. Carter and how he stood up and advocated for me. I've done my best to do the same for the young people I have known in my life and career. I hope I've succeeded some of the time.
So with thoughts of Mr. Carter fresh in my mind tonight, I went to my computer and did a Google search for him. I found him instantly, only what I found was his obituary. Mr. Carter passed away on January 25, 2010. I am two months too late with my thanks.
I encourage you to think of who helped you on your journey and let them know what they meant to you back then, and the influence they've had on your life. As the man in the documentary said, that chance may never come if we wait.
Click for more information about Colorblind
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Coaching Questions and Ideas:
1) What are the qualities of peope who have inspired you in your life? How are you embodying those qualities in your own life?
2) Write a letter of thanks to people who have supported you in your journey, whether on not you send them.
3) How would you like to be remembered by people you touch each day? What would they thank you for years down the road?
Copyright March, 2010: Jennifer Wilson, New Leaf Coaching and Consulting
