Lasting Impressions

“Don’t forget to stop and smell the roses.” My sixth grade math teacher, Mr. Roberts, wrote that in my Jackson Elementary yearbook. I had no idea what it meant at the time, and I had to ask my parents to interpret. They tried to explain, but I was probably too occupied with studying for the upcoming spelling test, reading enough books to qualify for the blue-ribbon certificate from the library, and going to my All-City Choir rehearsal to consider what Mr. Roberts was trying to say to me.   

In retrospect, Mr. Roberts was right. I’m hardwired for staying busy. I’ve spent a lifetime overscheduling my calendar and adding items to an unending to-do list.  I generally feel a bit guilty when I have downtime; I’m like a fast-food employee with a manager who barks, “If you’ve got time for leanin’, you’ve got time for cleanin’.” I’m a reluctant rose-sniffer.

From time to time, I’ll harken back to the words of Mr. Roberts and think about his wisdom. He could see in 12-year-old Craig a trait that would haunt me all my life, and his brief comment in my yearbook is among the most profoundly relevant things anyone has written to me.  Consequently, I make conscious efforts to slow down and enjoy things in the midst of my busyness. I pause to savor a great meal or watch a beautiful sunset. I carve out time to spend with the people I love. I grant myself permission to do nothing for a day, and I do my best to live that day guilt-free.

I’m not sure Mr. Roberts knew when he was signing my paperback yearbook that he was going to be someone I would still think about 35 years later. I don’t remember his being my favorite teacher or even one that I recall feeling a connection with in the classroom. But he is the only teacher whose advice I can quote to you today.

As adults who work with kids, we never know the impact we have on the students we teach. Just yesterday, I visited with a student I taught last year who told me how much he treasured a piece of advice I’d given him when he was a freshman. I had forgotten the conversation nearly completely until he reminded me. As a result of what we talked about, he's made some adjustments in the way he approaches school and prioritizes his time and activities. He seemed like a much happier and more balanced version of his earlier self.

In these final days of school, remember that you leave with your students more than just knowledge of a subject. What you have to share with them is more than content. You have the opportunity to change their hearts, to plant the seeds that will grow into something profound and life-altering in years to come.

The end of the school year is a pivotal time. As much as students are excited to be finished and move on, they are equally apprehensive about what lies ahead. You represent stability. You have seen them grow for a year or more. You might be someone they admire and see as a source of wisdom. You’ve got some credibility.

Be intentional about leaving your students with some wisdom that will guide them on their future journeys. Some of it will get tossed out the window on the road of life to litter the highway, but some of it will become a part of the map that guides that young person into a better future.