You gotta show up!

Spring, despite the inescapable beauty and rebirth all around us, can be a hard time in public education. I’ve got some seniors that I have struggled to get through to and their graduation remains in doubt. I’m planting seeds, I hope, some of which may take years to sprout. The job requires an enormous amount of energy, which I hope I will always be able to offer, but it does not always provide the validation and obvious results that help us to appreciate the rewards of what we’re trying to achieve. It can be hard to see concrete results as we grind away, especially late in the school year.

My first job was working on my dad’s landscaping crew. I was around it from early childhood and eventually graduated to an actual paycheck. Problem was, I was not very good at it. I never could plant a tree straight enough to please Daddy and if I planted more than two, they surely were not aligned. But that job absolutely offered concrete evidence of a hard day’s work every day. We would show up in the morning and attack the red dirt and scraggly beds and by the end of the day, those yards would sparkle with elegant shrubs, immaculately spread mulch, and perfectly spaced trees (especially if somebody else planted them). It was satisfying and there was a clear beginning to the journey and a definitive conclusion at the end as we cleaned up.

My second job, of course, had to call my first job prior to hiring me. I worried that they would be skeptical of anything my previous boss told them because he was my dad. Worse, I worried that he might not have anything good to say about my performance because I just wasn’t that good a landscaper.

My new boss called me into his office on the first day and said, “Talked to your dad.”

Oh, boy. Here we go.

“He said that when you started working with the crew, he didn’t know anything about any of the people you were working with. By the end of the first day, you knew their life histories and they seemed to like coming to work more after you joined. He also said that you showed up every day and worked hard.”

It was one of the great compliments I’ve ever gotten and I was profoundly relieved that Daddy apparently hadn’t mentioned my penchant for planting trees in looping arcs.

After a uniquely challenging day at the high school today, I was starting to wonder if I’m as effective as I need to be at my current job. I never question my effort, but sometimes the results (or the apparent lack thereof) can really get to me.

I decided to join a disc golf tournament being run by a colorful traveling entrepreneur at one of our local courses. His name is Scott Stokely. Look him up. He was among the pioneers of the sport and now he travels the country, Johnny Appleseed style, in his van, spreading the gospel of the sport and selling his own brand of disc. Surely it would be a good departure from my intrusive thoughts to engage with one of the luminaries of the most laid back sport ever invented.

My elbow has been nagging at me, but I figured I would be careful and just enjoy the round, while leaving my concerns about my kids’ attendance and failing grades for tomorrow morning. Like many activities in which I participate, I’m not particularly good at disc golf, but I really enjoy being in the woods, communing with people, and, eventually, getting my flying chunk of round plastic to crash against the chains.

The first couple of holes went ok.

I was in a foursome and my partner was significantly better than I, but fortunately for him, my bad throws did not prevent him from making good ones. He was my age and recovering from a recent heart attack, but he said that the game had helped him regain his health. One member of the other pair was a very talented young engineer from Vermont who was just visiting his family in town and decided to play in our tournament. His partner was the father of one of my former students who is due to graduate from college in a few weeks. He greeted me warmly and even took a selfie to send to his son. Things were already looking up!

On the fourth hole, something clicked in my elbow and not in a good way. We had used a few of my throws up to that point, but I was now a shell of my former, barely mediocre self. I could feel my spirit sinking a bit, but I was still enjoying the comradery and my partner was very good natured about the reality that he was carrying our team.

At the fifth hole, there was a dead body.

I’m not kidding.

The police had set up their yellow tape and they were standing over a prone figure on the side of the creek.

This was obviously disconcerting and I was a little bit worried that my next errant throw might inexcusably land on the wrong side of the tape. We were all stunned, of course, and we played in silence for a bit.

I have long believed that no matter what struggles we face, it can be life altering if we just know that there is one person who cares about us and believes in our value. I found myself hoping that someone had cared. And tried to help.

My sore elbow and pitiful score didn’t mean much at that point.

There was a scheduled talk after the tournament during which the progenitor of the event planned to share his story and a bit about the history of the game. When our game finally, mercifully concluded, I was headed to my car, thinking that I really needed the ride home to ponder and process all that I had seen.

Scott intercepted me and asked if I was going to stick around for his talk. Every part of my being wanted to tell him that I just needed to go home, but there was a light in his eyes that I just could not bear to diminish. I told him that I was just putting my bag in my car and I would be right there. He said, “Good, ‘cause I wanted to ask you how in the hell you prepare kids for adulthood in this day and age when the world is crazy and AI is gonna take all the jobs anyway!”

I get questions like this a lot and I don’t have a stock answer. In trying to answer him, I was also convincing myself.

I told him that the job is to help kids figure out who the best version of themselves is going to be and that my goal is to ensure that they know their value and the importance of coming to their own conclusions about the mysteries of the world. He asked some great questions and was actively listening to me in the kind of way that I hope my students would recognize. As we walked to the spot where he would give his presentation, he said, “I bet you’re damned good at it.”

His talk was fabulous! He told the story of his latch key childhood in California when he felt raised by a bunch of hippies on one of the original courses. They weren’t perfect foster parents, but he knew they cared, they kept him safe, and they gave him a foundation in life that he is still building on.

I was so glad I remained.

As I was walking out, that father I had been playing with approached and said, “I need to tell you, you really saved my son’s life. You got him out of his room and I’m not sure he ever would have come out if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

The universe has a way of tipping her hat to us when we need it most.

Sometimes, life requires looping arcs as we find our way.

But you gotta show up.