Another New Years' Day

Welcome, 2016.  The year began quietly but sadly.  I learned that my former professor, and later, good friend, Jack Dudey, died on January 1st.  I had not known that he was sick since I had not talked with him in several months.  Over the years, he would call with his characteristic "bark".  I always knew who was on the other end.  His death ends a chapter for me in some ways.  Jack was my advisor at William Woods, someone who helped through more than one crisis of faith as an undergraduate.  I still remember a particularly difficult day as a student teacher.  I called Jack at his office and he told me he was going to be home after school, changing the oil.  I stopped by and sobbed while he changed the oil in his driveway.  After I had related my sad tale of teaching middle school students, Jack rolled out from under the car and said, "there, do you feel better?'  And, in fact I did.  Then, there was the day in February as a first year teacher.  It was President's Day, I had the day off, I was teaching at Camdenton High School, living at home, and thoroughly miserable.  I spent the day in Jack's office where he listened and suggested that perhaps I should go back to school.  That summer I enrolled in a reading specialist program at MU, but when I didn't enjoy that either, Jack suggested a talk with then head of the geography department, Jesse Wheeler.  That conversation changed my life and introduced me to a discipline that has shaped the way in which I see the world.  Over the years, I would call Jack whenever I had questions or moments of doubt.  He was unfailingly supportive and encouraging.  With him I could talk about anything, from what behavior was "normal" for toddlers to whether it really was a good idea to become a principal at age 60.  Jack was a good friend and a terrific listener, someone with whom you could be yourself, however mysterious and allusive that "self" remained.  I regret that I didn't see him or talk with him these past few months.  Rest in peace, teacher, friend, mentor, advisor.  A poem for you by John Schlatter.

I am a Teacher

I was born the first moment that a question leaped from the mouth of a child.
I have been many people in many places.
I am Socrates exciting the youth of Athens to discover new idea through the use of questions.
I am Anne Sullivan tapping out the secrets of the universe into the outstretched hand of Helen Keller.
I am Aesop and Hans Christian Andersen revealing truth through countless stories.
The names of those who have practiced my profession ring like a hall of fame for humanity.
Booker T. Washginton, Buddha, Confucius, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Leo Buscaglia, Moses, and Jesus.
I am also those whose names and faces have long been forgotten but whoses lessons and character will always be remembered in the accomplishments of their students.
I am the most fortunate of all who labor.
A doctor is allowed to usher life into the word in one magic moment.  I am allowed to see that life reborn each day with new questions, ideas, and friendships.
An architect knows that if he builds with care, his strucutre may stand for centuries.
A teacher knows that if he builds with love and truth what he builds will last forever.
I am a warrior, daily doing bagttle against peer pressure, negativity, fear, conformity, prejudice, ignorance and apathy......