Mountains and My Friend Martin

The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy. – Martin Luther King, Jr.

This week was another struggle for me, although I’m sure you’re used to hearing me say that by now. What made this week in particular a challenge was we, as a school, administered interim assessments for all subjects (end of quarter exams that reflect the New York State exam) and my nine special education students scored an average of 40% on their reading test. Deep breath. I don’t really know what I expected, but looking that cold data in the face, it was hard to swallow, hard not to feel like my work these past three months has been irrelevant, hard to tell myself I’m not a failure, despite the failing scores. And now the puzzle really begins – What do I do with this information? How do I share it with my peers? How do I share it with my students? Deep breath.

But at this moment – 9:25 PM on a Friday evening – I’m actually feeling surprisingly calm. Maybe the reason for this calmness is the Tazo Zen tea I am drinking, the empty apartment in which I sit, or the classical guitar at my side. But a more likely cause is the inspiration I am drawing from a pile of books on my table about a defining movement in American history, and a portrait, recently purchased at Target, of Martin Luther King, Jr. You see, our class’s next unit of study will be focused on the civil rights movement – we will be exploring non-fiction through different media such as newspaper articles, magazine articles, textbooks and biographies - but focusing exclusively on this movement and the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. It should be pretty cool. But as I prepare for our classes, I am renewed with perspective. I think of the incredible accomplishments of human beings like Dr. King, larger than life individuals who’ve overcome seemingly insurmountable challenges with faith, patience, love and community. I think of the quote above, printed on the $15 portrait from Target, which is worth every penny for the well of encouragement it has provided me this night. I am in a moment of great discomfort and facing a tremendous challenge, but it is NOTHING compared to what others before me have done – it is childishly small in comparison to the achievements of others, others facing far more dangerous, far more oppressive, far more heartbreaking obstacles. I’ll be okay.

On another note, I am also calm because I’ve identified a metaphor for my current situation that has helped me not to feel (too) overwhelmed. The metaphor I’ve recently thought of for my life is a mountain. (Side Note: In class, my students are “climbing a mountain” as readers. They have an icon that represents them, and each time they finish a book, they present it to the class, their theme song plays (a song they’ve picked), and their character moves up a notch on the big purple hill. The goal is that each student will read at least 20 books by the end of the year (2 a month) and that we will read 5 books (1 every 2 months) together as a class. It’s kind of hokey, but it’s colorful, it creates a presence of reading and accountability in the classroom, and it reminds me a little bit of Colorado). But anyway, I also am climbing a mountain. Before I elaborate, I need to tell you about the one and only time I’ve ever gone rock climbing.

In July of 2009, prior to my start at Aon, my cousin Adam convinced me to go rock climbing with him at Clear Creek, Colorado. I didn’t have health insurance, I’d never been rock climbing before, so I thought it was a great idea. Upon our arrival, after gearing up in too-tight shoes and crotch-exposing harnesses, I watched Adam as he scaled the face of the rock with ease, establishing our route and securing the rope to pre-fastened karabiners, our life line in the event of a fall. As he gracefully descended, I felt certain I would have little trouble replicating his movements. We switched positions, I approached the object, and was instantly scared / confused / lost. “Uh… how do I start,” I thought loudly to myself. Unlike climbing a rock wall, where the pieces of the puzzle are neatly laid out before you, climbing the face of an actual rock is completely disorienting – What should I grab? How in the hell am I going to climb this thing? But, after some patient guidance from my cousin, I began to get the hang of it. If I just reach here. Maybe I can put my foot there. That oughta work. Nope. How about this then? Twenty minutes later, I was halfway up, knees and fingers bleeding, arms aching, deciding I’d had enough rock climbing for one day. “I think I’m done,” I told him. “No you’re not,” he decided, matter-of-factly. He is also a teacher and knows the value of persistence. Hanging there, arguing with him, I realized that I wasn’t going to get down, unless I’d reached the summit. I pressed on. Half an hour later, after more blood, sweat and thoughts of inevitable failure, I was at the top, smiling joyfully, gazing down on the small people and cars below, and out at the vast expanse of mountains. It was an incredible experience and one I hope to never have again. That was the one and only time I’ve gone rock climbing.

Now here is my connection - every day it feels like I am presented with a new challenge that I have absolutely no idea how to approach. How will I get my Linguistic Dimensions Project done? How should I approach a student who I know is feeling desperately frustrated? When will I find time to plan my next unit? What will I do now that my class average is 40%? The answer is simple – keep moving, keep trying, keep going. You will not fail if you keep at it – you’re certain to fail if you quit. If I just try this. Maybe I can put this lesson there. That oughta work. Nope. How about this then? So I really don’t know what this next week will hold for me or, if at the end of this school year, I will have reached the proverbial mountaintop. But in this moment, I am calm. I refuse to feel overwhelmed and helpless. I am keeping at it and results will follow, or so I hope. Stay tuned.

On another note, thank you again for your readership, your friendship, your love and support. You are the rope that holds me up, that keeps me safe as I continue on my journey.

All the best,

Josh