Thanking the Alumni

Today, Friday, November 18, would have been the MPHS DECA Leadership Retreat. For last 21 years of my teaching career my students and I would have spent several weeks getting ready. Kids would have been choosing and refining the agenda, getting all the props and supplies ready for the various activities, packing the tubs for each puzzle group, creating checklists and more checklists, getting 120 carwash jars ready, fretting about what to bring for their special thing, struggling with whether or not they really wanted to go, and wondering what the heck this is all about. I would tell new students how we came to be doing this and talk about how it evolved. I would tell them simply that when we finished the first one, in answer to a query from his classmates about what we did at the Retreat, Ben James said in class the next day, “We laughed and we cried,” and then he went back to sculpting a clay hand coming out of his table. Through 21 years, in so many ways that continued to be true; we laughed and we cried.

The Retreat had both large group and small group activities. The small groups were called Puzzle Groups. Briefly, the agenda included ice breakers and team building activities, along with preparing and delivering a skit. Meals and (modest) sleeping arrangements were provided. After dinner was “A Few Words” and then after that was the Boundary Breaking. The Boundary Breaking was scheduled for 3 ½ hours. By the time we got to that point it worked; it worked remarkably well, quite remarkably actually. For one of the Saturday activities, the Car Wash, kids wrote positive notes to the people in their Puzzle Groups and put them in an envelope or a jar.

It is astounding to me how many kids told me through the years that they still had their Car Wash notes. Even parents would tell me their kids had them. I get Facebook messages from alumni who have read their Car Wash notes from years, even decades ago. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. When I left the high school I took my yearbooks, my pictures, my plaques and awards, and my Car Wash jars. I too still have all of my Car Wash jars.

For the weeks before the Retreat I would have been writing, editing, and practicing my talk for Friday evening. It would have been at least 30 minutes long, probably more likely 45 minutes; a few of them were an hour. I would have it virtually memorized. I would have been extremely nervous. Sleep would have evaded me for two or three weeks before and the week after. Hours and hours would have gone into both student preparation and my preparation.

Our first Retreat was in 1988; it evolved and grew quickly. The Retreat became in short order one of my favorite activities and experiences of the year. It was powerful. It made a difference. At times, it seemed magic. This morning, three years away from the Retreat, it is starting to sound funny to me to say that it seemed magic. How could it have been? It was. I have so many incredible memories of this “weekend in the woods.” Over time there was so much buy in. It was, in some ways, a simple activity; it was in many ways, quite complex and high risk. Even now it moves me to think about it and remember.

After 36 years in the classroom I left Marysville-Pilchuck with a deep, profound, and enduring sense of gratitude for the privilege of having been a teacher.

I like my new career as a real estate agent; I was ready for change and I have embraced that change. I like taking good care of people when they buy or sell a home. I like the new schedule and the new challenges. I like working on the weekends and fishing during the week. I like the money. I like writing my blogs.

I like my new life a lot.

I am listing a home today. I won’t be traveling to Camp Killoqua. Not today.

I don't want to live in the past. I remember the past. I live in the present. I want to be a part of building my own future. I can say I miss the Retreat because I do. I believe I will continue to miss it for some years to come. I can say I love my new life as a real estate broker because I do. I believe I will love it for some years to come.

Were I still in the classroom I would have been sleeping fitfully for the last two weeks and down right poorly last night. I would have been up by 4:30 and practiced the "few words" for tonight one last time. At this moment it is 7:35 AM; I would be leaving in minutes to meet with the Alumni.

Two and half years away from the teaching, three years away from the last Retreat, many of my feelings and perceptions are the same about my 36 years in the classroom, some have changed, and I suppose some will continue to change. That is the nature of time and memory.

This past week and particularly this morning I find myself remembering the Alumni who helped at the Retreat. Approximately 255 Alumni helped through the years. Some of those 255 were the same Alum who came more than once. When we got together for breakfast on Friday morning, we had introductions, some visiting, and then I would go over the agenda for this year. The "Frogs", experienced Alumni, would give some counsel to the "Tadpoles", new Alumni. (Terms coined by Hilari Johnson Flanigan when she was a Tadpole).

I worked hard to thank the Alumni before the Retreat, during breakfast, during the Retreat, and during debriefing.

Something that is still very clear to me three years away is how deeply I appreciated the help of the Alumni. Logistically and organizationally we couldn't have done it without the Alumni. Emotionally, I couldn't have done it without the Alumni. Period.

This morning I am smiling with gratitude remembering the Alumni who helped at the Retreat. In my heart, I can see your faces, I can hear your voices.

Somehow, I'm not sure I thanked the Alumni enough. Thank you Alumni. Thank you.

It is the weekend. Please be good. Drive your cars carefully. Ride with people who drive carefully. Treat yourself with respect. Spend time with people who treat you with respect. Treat other people with respect. Talk nice to yourself; you deserve it. I look forward to hearing from you or seeing you. Keep yourselves whole physically and emotionally.

P