Graduation
AT 3 A.M. By James B. Reuter Updated March 14, 2009 12:00 AM
From: http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=448284&publicationSubCategoryId=64
The graduations begin, now. Some students get medals: bronze, silver, gold.
Some students do not get any medals. . . . Some are not allowed to march. . . . Some are not allowed to graduate.
It is really a time of joy and sorrow, a time of laughter and tears, an emotional time.
Education is the complete and harmonious development of all the physical, mental, and moral faculties of man. The end product, at graduation, is not the medal, or even the diploma. It is the boy, standing on his own two feet. it is the girl, coming down the aisle with her diploma, to kiss her daddy.
Every teacher who has ever gone into a classroom knows that the best boy in the class, the best girl, is not necessarily the one who gets the gold medal for academics.
There might be a girl in the class who has many friends. She loves everybody, and everyone loves her. When they need something, they come to her, because they know that she will give. . . . There is no mark for that.
There might be a girl who is selfish as sin, who has no friends. No one comes to her, when they are in need, because they know that she will not help anyone. . . . there is no mark for that.
There might be a boy who is a natural leader. He has a sense of humor, and courage; he likes his family; he likes the school; he is at peace with God, with his friends, with himself. . . . there is no mark for that.
Another boy might be all mixed up. He hates his father. He hates the teachers. He is planning to kill himself, tonight. . . . There is no mark for that.
We give the marks for mathematics, for English, for history, for physics, for chemistry, for biology — but there are other sides to a boy, and to a girl.
At this graduation, the end product is not the medal. It is not even the diploma. It is your son. It is your daughter.
If he has learned to be a man, if she has learned to be a woman, that’s enough.
That’s a superlative, already.
What teachers make
This beautiful story came to me from the son of my staff through the internet.
The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with the education. He argued, “What’s a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?”
He reminded the other dinner guests what they say about teachers: “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” To stress his point he said to another guest, “You’re a teacher, Bonnie, be honest. What do you make?”
Bonnie, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, “You want to know what I make?”
“Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor. I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can’t make them sit for 5 without an iPod, Game Cube or movie rental. . . . .
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder. I make them question. I make them apologize and mean it. I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.
I teach them to write and then I make them write. Keyboarding isn’t everything. I make them read, read, read.
I make them show all their work in math. They use their God given brain, not the man-made calculator.
I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to know English while preserving their unique cultural identity.
I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.
Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life.
Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing money isn’t everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because they are ignorant. . . . You want to know what I make?
I make a difference. What do you make Mr. CEO?”
