Possibilities

Photo by Chris Hall

In seventh grade I had an English teacher, Mr. Moore, who bore a striking resemblance to the legendary singer Isaac Hayes, of “Shaft” fame. His head was clean-shaven, he wore a beard, and he had a cool, confident walk that elicited a “right on” from the gangly adolescents he taught.

Unlike Isaac Hayes, though, Mr. Moore was no crooner. But in 1971 he could play a mean jazz flute. And he did—at least three mornings a week, right at his desk before the start of school. We’d stumble into class, loud and antsy, and Mr. Moore, legs crossed, head tilted, would be doing his improvisational thing. Instantly, we’d fall into an awestruck hush. How, we wondered, could a teacher—a guy who also wrote poetry, who seemed to know dead authors personally, who could actually get us pumped about diagramming a sentence—be, well, this too?

I’ve since come to understand that letting us in on the impassioned pieces of his eclectic life was Mr. Moore’s well-honed gift to us. It was about showing us the possibilities in our own lives. Prepositions and antecedents, jazz and books—it was all “right on.”

I was reminded of Mr. Moore when I began thinking of how you, our educators, start each school year with a whole cast of ideas aimed at helping kids see the possibilities. It’s not easy, making it happen, because it entails more than “just” teaching math or driving a bus or cooking lunch for the 12:45 shift. It’s about role modeling, unearthing buried will, creatively playing the music of promise.

Unfortunately, these are the intangibles that are increasingly at stake as private companies get a toehold into the workings of our schools. As our cover story about profit-making in public education shows (“Cash Cow,”), some things just can’t be contracted out—at least not without a price to students.

We at NEA Today understand this, and as the school year begins, we tip our pens to you, the ones who’ve set the standard for giving more than the “job” requires. You’ve entered the school door once again, having prepared your lessons, cleared your desks (or not; see “It’s a Teacher Thing”); and in the spirit of Mr. Moore, readied the music only you can sing. Now do us the honor and keep us posted on the results— your challenges, your successes.

We’ll be here all year, listening.

Editor-in-Chief Marilyn Milloy