There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

~William Stafford, “The Way It Is”

Something stirred. An ancient thread faintly danced. I had not felt it in years. It had gone still, but it had not been forgotten. Never forgotten. It was first. But first made way for many. So, when it stirred, I was wakened. I was transported to the time of beginning.

Twenty-three years ago it began. It started with a single thread, a kid, which has become my material of choice as I have built my career. And as the years have passed, I have added countless threads to my web, connected to kids, but it all started with one. He showed me the way, he was the catalyst of my craft.

Eddy. In the fall of ’96, a young, skinny, wide-eyed, single-parented, Hispanic boy showed me the importance of making connections. He needed me not for the content I taught, but for the human I was. And in so doing, he ignited in me an understanding about the necessity and power of humanity in the classroom, that, in the end, we teach kids, not content. And from there, a young Syrie went on to build, from a single thread. Eddy.

This past weekend, out of the blue on Saturday morning, I got a Facebook message from a former student Rosario, Eddy’s wife. She wanted me to know that Ed was in town for the wrestling tournament at our high school, and she encouraged me to go see him. And I did.

I had not seen Ed since he graduated 17 years ago. He’s now 35, and I am 47. Much has changed for both of us since then. Life has dealt trials, tragedies, and triumphs, but through all, the thread has remained. Consequently, I was “in my feelings” for the rest of the weekend. I owe so much to this young man. He showed me the way. He showed me myself. And I am so grateful for the path he provided, for the thread he tethered. I have never let go of that thread.

But, really, this is neither exceptional nor special. This has played out many times, with many teachers, in many classrooms, and over many careers. It’s what teachers do. We connect. We build. We weave. I am proud to be among the many who have woven the threads of humanity. We are teachers. We are weavers.

Today’s Trail

Along today’s trail we will experience…

…connecting through Smiles and Frowns.

…being interviewed and giving presentations.

…reflecting in our Journey Journals.

…hearing a Sappy Sy Rhyme.

Do. Reflect. Do Better.