Slice of Life: March 5 -- The Letter

Those of you who have been in my office have probably noticed the diplomas on my wall, the framed pictures of my family, and maybe even the Mizzou helmet that is perched on my bookshelf.  Each of those items are of great value to me and represent who I am as a person.  They are prominently displayed and not hard to miss.

What you may have failed to notice is what I consider the most valuable, most meaningful item in my office.  No, it's not my Doctorate diploma or the dissertation I wrote in order to earn the title, "Dr. Zornes."  It's not the awards that hang on my wall or sit on my shelf.  While I'm proud of those accomplishments and the tokens that represent them, what I value most sits in a simple black frame and resides on top of my filing cabinet.  It's inconspicuous.  It may appear insignificant.  To most, it wouldn't mean much.  To, me, however, it means everything.

In order to understand the significance of this one possession, you must first understand the significance of the person attached to it -- my dad.  My dad was my hero as a kid.  I remember believing he could do anything, and looking back, I realize he believed I could do anything, too.  I have fond memories of my childhood, of times spent at the lake fishing, family vacations, trips to breakfast on Saturday mornings, and "Celebrating Success," special nights out to celebrate and recognize accomplishments in our family.  My dad and mom both did everything they could to make memories with my brother and me.

Not only was my dad my hero, he was my kindergarten principal.  I remember loving the fact that I went to school with my dad each day.  When I would see him in the hallway, I would run out of line to give him a hug.  Of course, that resulted in every other kindergartener running out of line to hug my dad, too.  I remember being crushed when my dad told me I couldn't get out of line in the hall to give him a hug anymore.  He explained that Mrs. Berry needed us to stay in line in the hallway and that meant I had to stay in line like everyone else.  To this day, I remember knocking on my dad's office door with a note from my teacher that read, "Your daughter needs to give you a hug."  Apparently I managed to find a way to get my hug, although it required an office pass.

My dad went on to become an assistant superintendent, superintendent, and a college professor.  My mom was an elementary school teacher, so I suppose it was only natural for me to follow in my parents' footsteps.  I don't remember exactly when I decided I wanted to be a teacher, but I do remember wanting to inspire others the way my parents had inspired me and so many of their students.

I went to college and graduated with a degree in elementary education.  I remember both my parents being proud of me and my accomplishments.  I also remember my desire to make them proud, to live up to the legacy they established in their combined 65 years in education.

I remember the day I got my first teaching job as a sixth grade teacher here at the middle school.  Just like on so many other occasions, my family paused to "Celebrate Success."  I was excited and nervous about my new adventure.  I was also like a sponge, desperate to soak up any advice and wisdom I could from my parents.

That brings me back to the beginning of this post and the prized possession that sits atop my filing cabinet, encased in a simple black frame.  I told you it means everything to me.  Not because it's valuable.  To anyone else it wouldn't amount to much.  To me it is everything because the person who gave it to me means everything to me.

A letter from my dad, written to me when I started teaching, sits in that simple black frame perched on top of my filing cabinet.  You might not notice it.  It might not mean much to you.  To me, it represents a lifetime of love and encouragement that has carried me where I am today.

I still aspire to be like my dad.  Just like him, I've been a teacher and a principal.  Just like him, I've earned the title of "Dr."  And, one day, just like him, I hope to be a superintendent or a professor.

So who do you aspire to be?  Who has influenced your life and helped make you the person you are today and the person you are still becoming?  And, perhaps most importantly, who will you one day inspire?

Who knows?  Someday you might have a simple framed letter sitting on your filing cabinet, too.

My dad, mom, and me at my Doctorate graduation