We Are The Light

As I have reflected on this past week, I felt so many conflicting emotions....Excitement over the Christmas holiday, joy over watching my kids get excited for "The Elf On The Shelf" (and all his antics), and gratitude over each blessing, big and small.  On the end of the spectrum, I my heart was heavy with such tremendous sadness and grief for every adult, small child, member of the Newtown, CT community. 

I knew I wanted to write about these events.  So many things were running through my  heart....Compassion, Kindness, Empathy, Respect, Living life with a servant heart.

Then I read the following email, and I knew today was about sharing this message. It was sent out by a very wise young man who happens to be a teacher at Avon High School
(here in Avon, OH).  As I read his message, I knew it was originally sent to just a handful of Avon High students.  It has spread rapidly over social media and even caught the attention of local news media....

He is a blessing to his students and his community.
His message may have been sent to his students, yet it transcends all ages....

Subject: Sad, sad day...

Hey Everyone,

I'm sure by now you've heard about the terrible tragedy that took place on Friday at an elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut. A heinous act that was carried out during the very minutes and hours that we were sitting at our own desks in Avon High. By the time it had ended, 26 people had been murdered; 6 adults - teachers, a principal, a school psychologist...; most saddening of all are the deaths of 20 children... kids, ranging between the ages of 5 - 10 years old. This has happened too often during my short career as a teacher, but each new catastrophe fails to bring any less heartache. As an educator, when things like this occur, I feel so terribly bad for not only the students that had their lives taken far too soon (and certainly their families), but also for those students that endured the chaos and have lived to tell about it. The mental anguish they must experience is beyond my comprehension. But even beyond that, I'm heartbroken for each of you and all the students across the nation that are growing up in a world where these situations are an unfortunate reality; increasingly becoming a new norm. I hang my head and think of how much pressure you all must be under; how quickly our society is demanding for you all to grow up, to shed your childhood, your adolescence, and accept the often overwhelming gravity of adulthood. Days like these are sad, sad days for a multitude of reasons.

On the brighter side, when horrific events such as this take place, I have not ceased to be amazed at the maturity my students continue to carry. Our society continually thrusts adult-like expectations upon your shoulders, metaphorically, and upon your developing minds, quite literally. Time and again, you meet those expectations head on, thoughtfully, intelligently, and compassionately, with a willingness and acceptance to take on the challenges that face you and your future. I am so proud of all of you. I don't know that I or my friends, while we were in school, were equipped to handle such tragedies with the dignity and composure that I see in my students at Avon. The work that many of you continue to do every day is an inspiration to me, many other teachers, your parents, and the greater community. Much of the work you do goes unnoticed, without praise, and yet you carry on because you know what you are doing is right and good. I'm speaking of the work many of you are doing through Rachel's Challenge, local, state, national, and international charities, community service, essays you write, speeches you give, even the modest conversations you have with friends about how we can make our school, our town, our country, and our world a better place for everyone. You are all tremendous young men and women, and I am thankful, daily, that I had the wherewithal as a teenager to set my sights on this profession. These ugly acts cast us in to a dark netherworld of frightening paralysis; what do we do? will this happen here? am I safe? I don't, unfortunately, have the answers to these and many other questions. But I know this: The darkness that these catastrophes catapult us in to will not last; a light will shine through; the ugliness will clear and give way to the beauty that is life once again. You are that light. It is the work that you do, with one another and for one another, that casts away the darkness of sadness and fear. I am so proud of all of you.

And I want you to know, as I told each of you on day one, that I care wholeheartedly about every single person that sits in my classroom or walks in our hallways. You are our future and we, as teachers, aim to cultivate your skills, intellect, and perhaps most importantly, your values, as the stewards of the next generation - to nurture your character into young men and women of righteous standards with hearts of virtue. I don't know, in the greater scheme of things, why tragedies like this occur, but I charge you to continue the wonderful work you are doing with greater fervor and with growing bounds of acceptance and care for each other so that the light which you exude will grow so bright that our future will have the hope of enduring fewer days of darkness.

I, as I have always told you, am ALWAYS an open ear, willing to talk, or listen, if you ever feel the need. Perhaps I'm not the person you feel you can confide most in. That's fine, we have an army of professionals at this school that care just as deeply for you as I do. For any reason, any reason at all, if you feel scared, hurt, sad, confused, angry, lost, hopeless, invisible, forgotten, or even happy, yet no one else will listen - I ALWAYS will, and I'm not the only one. From the first day that many of you met me, I told you I was here for a reason, and that is because I love what I do. That doesn't simply mean I love history, or social sciences, but I love my students; I love your intelligence and creativity, your competitive nature to be the best, your humor and wit, and certainly your promise to grow in to the most wonderful people.

Most importantly, however, is the solemn truth these tragedies reveal - how lucky we are and how often we take our loved ones for granted. I cried on Friday, for the young children taken from their parents and for the parents that had their babies take from them by such a malicious heart. These parents will not see one more little league game, or take one more picture of a silly Halloween costume, or go on one more family vacation, or drive young loves to a first date, celebrate a diploma, welcome grandchildren, or open one more gift from under the tree with their dear babies. They will wish they had given one more hug, one more kiss, taken one more picture, said one more I love you. I cried because WE HAVE THAT CHANCE and more often than not, we don't take it. Every day, every moment you can, take for granted nothing that is so precious and fragile. Hug and kiss you parents tonight, hug them with strength, let them feel how much you love them because they certainly think the world of you, as do I. Say I love you. Even if you're a family that "doesn't say it cuz we know," tonight is a night to say it and make sure that you are heard.

Sad, sad days are a thing of nature and we never know when they may come. Don't let your love for your family and friends linger on a barely audible whisper - tell them loudly.

See you tomorrow,
Mr. H

May you find gratitude in even the smallest of events in your day!
Tell your friends and family how much you love and appreciate them!

Have A Very Blessed Holiday and A Very Merry Christmas!