Rising Sun

In the fall I biked it to school, but when the mornings hit below freezing, I had to take the bus. I need something to read on the bus--it was too dark and depressing. I picked up an unread book from my wife’s college days called Surviving Auschwitz. The author was an Auschwitz survivor, and he described how distinctly new prisoners entered the camp--he could tell which ones wouldn’t make it. If they had too much hope of getting out, the hope would crash and destroy the prisoner in the process. If they didn’t have any hope, then they were a few days from death. It was the small glimmer of hope that kept him going each day.  

Every morning on the bus I read that book, and every morning I walked from the bus stop to the school, praying: “Lord, lift me up with your love.” A big reason I decided to try this whole experiment was my belief in God. You know when the devil tells Jesus he should jump off the cliff and let the angels catch him. Well, Jesus didn't jump, and I did.

I was just a 2nd grade teacher; if the author could survive Auschwitz, then I had to survive a bunch a seven year olds. Whenever I faced adversity in my life, I just outworked it. I was going to outwork them. The book mentioned how the man’s hope grew when he finally could see the sun rise through the clouds because it meant that the lifeless, grey winter was coming to an end. In Candler Park, the days started to grow longer, and in the bus, I started to see that sun rise.

I had put some faith in a line graph given to first year teachers. It charted the typical ups and downs, and just like the line graph showed, things started to improve after winter break. Everyone told me the kids would be out of control after the break, but my kids had calmed down. I wasn’t doing anything differently, so I reasoned that my consistency was finally paying off. I had been doing the “handbook” discipline for 4 months and now it must be sinking in.

 Then the compliments came, “Wow, Mr. Slaugher, your class is really coming along!” At a staff meeting, Franklin asked that teachers offer up compliments to keep the morale up: of the seven compliments given, I was mentioned in four of them. It wasn’t long before I was on top of the world again, persevering through the harshest of conditions. Mr. Franklin walked in the door, saw all the kids quietly writing and announced that my class was his favorite because they had come so far. His compliments only fed the flame.

Our school was receiving a lot of attention because we were a “turn-around” school with a new and unconventional principal, and there was a writer for NPR writing a story about us. He was interviewing a few of the more successful teachers about the ups and downs of the school, and he also came to me; “Mr. Franklin said I should check out your class sometime.” It was just like I had imagined, only sooner.