A few years ago, the excellent drama program at High School North staged a rousing production of “Oklahoma,” and this refrain keeps playing in my head: “Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain!” Except that this week, that famed prairie wind turned into a killer twister two miles wide, smashing everything in its path and breaking the heart of Moore, the town in the bullseye once again. If you wonder why people in a place prone to such destruction would not just pick up and move, the answer lies in the song’s next lines: “We know we belong to the land; and the land we belong to is grand.”
We are drawn to yet another state with yet another heart-wrenching national story of tears and heartache. Of all the riveting stories emerging from Oklahoma, one of the most compelling is the story of the Plaza Tower Elementary School, those small, trembling children cowering in the tornado’s angry approach, and the great fearful suspense of parents waiting to find out the fate of their babies.
The common denominator that leaps out in the story of Moore’s elementary school and the Newton school shootings is the bravery and self-sacrifice of the teachers and aides who did everything they could to protect their charges. In Oklahoma, as rescue efforts turn into the sad job of recovery, stories are emerging of teachers doing their best to shepherd their students to safety, even covering children’s bodies with theirs to shield them from the wind and falling objects.
Bill noted that when Time Magazine does its iconic annual Person of the Year issue, this year, the clear choice should be the teacher — teachers, who in so many cases are overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated — who have demonstrated in several recent national tragedies courage and compassion beyond the call of duty. As much as firefighters, police, and emergency workers, teachers have proven to be our heroes, not only in times of crisis, but every single day on the front lines in our schools.
I have been extremely lucky in my life to have had so many teachers who made me enjoy school so much that I literally skipped on my way there, who instilled in me a love of books, the cadence of words, and the thrill of numbers. I remember how much I adored the soft scent and soft voice of Mrs. Marine, my kindergarten teacher, who helped a small immigrant child from Korea learn English so painlessly that as an adult I cannot remember the transition from one language to the other.
There was Mrs. Schneider in first grade, who praised me as I voraciously read my way through the color-coded reading program and held out new books as enticements, much as a jeweler might dangle shiny baubles or a baker might lay out freshly baked sweets. Pretty Miss Purcell, who became Mrs. Foohey during the school year, invited our entire second grade class to her wedding. I was in awe of how young and fun she was, mesmerized by her beautiful dress and beautiful husband, and honored to be a part of such an interesting ceremony — my very first wedding.
Miss Gnecco in third grade played a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells” on the piano along with other carols as we all belted out songs for our holiday pageant, and she had contests where we could win prizes. I won two board games — “Go to the Head of the Class,” which sparked my love of game shows like Jeopardy, and “Scrabble,” which fed my love of words and puzzles and my current addiction to “Words with Friends.”
My fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Fiske, used her own money to buy us what I thought were the most delicious cookies ever to supplement the boring graham crackers at snack time. She had us collect caterpillars, and we kept them in the classroom as they wove their cocoons and emerged as butterflies.
These teachers, who shaped the heart of my elementary school experience, gave me experiences that are so vivid I can call up the colors and smells and sounds of their classrooms to this day. They are the heroes of my childhood, they are heroes for today’s children as well. I don’t know why teaching was never on my radar as a career path. Perhaps I answered that question myself a little earlier — that there is not only a perception but also a reality that the profession, in this country, has been and still is undervalued, which is a shame. In the Korean culture, teachers are venerated. I remember people calling my father — an M.I.T. PhD — by the honorific “Sun-saeng-nim,” which means teacher. They said it with reverence and he accepted it with pride.
I am lucky to have a new teacher in my life, Jeanne Hart. After working all day for the state, she teaches classes at Mercer County College, where I am taking an HTML class toward a certificate in web design to supplement my work with words and video. It’s never too late to teach this old dog new tricks, and if I work really hard, maybe, just maybe, I can have the honor of standing in front of a classroom myself one day.
