Old School

I was just reflecting today on old people. Okay I'll be kinder and say "my elders."

I don't know what it is, but I'm just feeling thankful for the silver-haired-no-nonsense-full-of-wisdom types lately. Whether that's my fabulous grandparents or others. I think it was probably my Seminar class for my grad program through Dominican University tonight. Our Seminar class is taught by a nun named Sister Mary. She is definitely rocking the patterned vest ensemble on the reg and I have a sneaking suspicion that she might smoke. I hope she does, in a weird way. (I don't know why I would find joy in the knowledge that an old lady nun takes cigarette breaks, but I do. I definitely do.) She leads us for class one Wednesday a month, mainly spending our class time facilitating discussions about what is going on in our classrooms and peppering in her own advice from time to time.

Let me tell you, as a TFA-er, I wade through my fair share of PC BS. If you need me to explain PC, that means Political Correctness. I hope you can figure out the other abbreviation. It's a constant. I understand Teach For America's need to tread carefully as they enter communities and school districts where they aren't necessarily welcomed, and so they, as a non-profit, need to say the right things at the right time about things like, say, the Chicago Teacher's Union. They would never refer to our schools as "the worst in Chicago," for example, because that wouldn't be politically correct. It's with good reason that they have well-worded things like vision statements, theories of change, and mission statements.

Not so different after all. 

Old people, on the other hand, just get to say stuff. Sister Mary threw it out there tonight and said, plain and simple: "You guys are the best and the brightest. You are in the worst schools in Chicago. That's right where you should be, because the system stinks. It needs fixing. And the only way it will start to get better is if people like you who actually care are there doing the job. Keep it up. Don't give up."

Talk about a moment. A nun just told me not to give up. Day = made. (And this is on a day when my kids forgot how to stand in line, sit on the carpet, and work in partners and chose to act all cray instead. So this was a great thing to hear.) And while the way she says things, her technological know-how (we never have internet up in the class...ever), and that patterned vest she was donning might all be a little out of date, I appreciate it.

There must be something about growing older that makes you cut the BS. That makes you just say things when you want to say them. The thing I love about our grandparents' generation (Sister Mary seems to be included) is not only that they say things, but that they still believe in the things they say. They mean them. There's not a passive aggressive agenda. They aren't disenfranchised or burned out. Sure, they can come out grumpy sometimes, but at least it's all straightforward. They've put in their time and have seen crazy things and been through struggles. They've been around for awhile. And the great ones still believe that change and goodness can happen. If you can make a 23-year-old-first-year-teacher feel positively about being in grad classes on a Wednesday night after teaching all day, you must be doing something right. So to all those old people and nuns in America, and particularly old nuns in America, I salute you. Keep saying things. Keep meaning them. We all need to hear it.