I love the work of Sir Ken Robinson, and especially his book "The Element." A person's "Element" is the intersection of one's skill and one's passion, and he profiles and celebrates those who are fortunate enough to have found theirs.
Robinson devotes a chapter to the importance of finding like-minded people with whom to share and develop your skill and reinforce your passion. Last week's memorial gathering at Lab School was a moving reminder that Leslie had found her Element, and had both found and built a community with her colleagues.
Caroline and Emily and I entered the school with a bit of
trepidation. We'd been promised "appropriate whimsy," but we were also walking into a room full of other grieving people, with a high probability of "tilted heads" (the traditional "you poor thing" posture) We needn't have feared; entering Judd 126 was like walking into a loving embrace.At the rear of the room hung two posters with "Did You Know…" facts about Leslie contributed by fellow teachers. The range was magnificent - recollections of her staunch advocacy for the teachers' bargaining rights, but also that she made amazing pickles. One teacher described how Leslie was an "ace" hockey player who held her hand when they took the students skating; another recalled a quote, "I know how you feel about rats, but could you please reach behind my head and get her claws free."
Around those posters were several sheets with "petals" in a "Garden of Love" - remembrances from students. On the table were packets and boxes of flower seed, so that everyone might take some and make the world more beautiful (a theme to return later).
Perhaps most charming, so that everyone might take home a rat, one teacher had made 200 chocolate rats (dark, milk and Norway?)!
Fellow teachers spoke, with common themes of sharp intellect applied with gentle touch, speaking truth to power to hold the school to its high standards and reputation, and eagerness to help with any task, event or problem.
In the week before the memorial, I'd selected photos of Leslie to be used in a slide show. That process actually felt renewing, revisiting everything from our wedding to the girls' birth, vacations to celebrations. Seeing the photos dissolve one into the next, though, over Warren Zevon's "Keep Me In Your Heart" (a song he wrote while terminally ill), evoked a sweet and sad welling up, and I squeezed the girls' hands tight on either side of me.
During the rug time that Leslie used to start or end class, she offered her students time to give or receive a "compliment." At the memorial, the 5th grade teachers debuted a warmly wonderful work-in-progress video of Leslie's last class of students' compliments for "Ms. Hornig" - remembering favorite curriculum elements, crediting
her for their ongoing interest in science, or recalling a moment where she'd recognized something they'd done. (The Beanie Babies in this photo were passed around, and you couldn't speak until you held a Beanie.)What I most noted - both as a kids TV analyst and channeling Leslie's eye for developmentally appropriate practice - was how the teachers gave the kids time and space to speak: they weren't perfect, they weren't rushed, they weren't programmed…they were themselves.
Brilliantly, and in keeping with the day's garden theme, the formal program closed with a YouTube animation of "Miss Rumphius," one of Leslie's and our girls' favorite children's books.
to live by the sea, and
to make the world
more beautiful.
I had never before heard the song by Warren Zevon. It was so beautiful and so appropriate and it made me cry. Again.
ReplyDeleteKaren S.
beautiful
ReplyDelete