August 6 When Teachers come to Learn

Wednesday August 6 — “Hurry”

Yesterday our Fitness Center looked alive and fresh with the energies of c 375 teachers and administrators from the Schools of the Archdiocese.   I stopped by late in the morning;  they weren’t in Fitness then, just some of UDM’s host team prepping for lunch.  The teachers were out on campus in learning sessions.  They had already heard UDM’s announcement of education grants for grads from diocesan schools, a new collaboration for us and a smart one.

What mostly got me thinking, though, was what it means when teachers come to learn.  Who teaches teachers?

Lots of people.  For starts, teachers share research with each other.    That happened on campus yesterday, fresh ideas on offer to mix in one’s  skill set.   Professionals teach each other too, when they take time to trade stories and care for each other, again like yesterday.

Most of all,  students teach teachers.  They bring us the news about changes in the world, the creative news and the hard news.   Students bring us their energy and their wounds, and strong teachers spend a lot of energy, day after day after day, paying attention to precisely how students surprise them, spend teaching time laughing in delight and absorbing grief and violence.   Strong teachers learn all the time.   That’s what yesterday was about.

All this reminded me of a very cool poem by Marie Howe, given to me by one of UDM’s teachers back in early summer.   Doing ordinary chores, a mom’s  daughter teaches her while they shop.   Every time I read “Hurry” I smile inside, probably smile outside too.  Try reading it out loud.

Have a blest day.


john st sj


Today’s Post:  from The Kingdom of Ordinary Time (2008)

We stop at the dry cleaners and the grocery store
and the gas station and the green market and
Hurry up honey, I say, hurry hurry,
as she runs along two or three steps behind me
her blue jacket unzipped and her socks rolled down.
Where do I want her to hurry to? To her grave?
To mine? Where one day she might stand all grown?
Today, when all the errands are finally done, I say to her,
Honey I’m sorry I keep saying Hurry—
you walk ahead of me. You be the mother.
And, Hurry up, she says, over her shoulder, looking
back at me, laughing. Hurry up now darling, she says,
hurry, hurry, taking the house keys from my hands.

p.s.  To Listen to the author read the poem click the play button below:

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