Page 5 - Menlo Magazine: Winter 2018

From the
Head of School
I think I always knew I would be a teacher. At least that is the story I tell myself now. I grew up in a house of teachers on the grounds of a school, and all of my friends’ parents and parents’ friends were teachers—I was quite literally surrounded by school through my formative years.
Some of my favorite memories growing up were when the “big kids” from my father’s “Ideas in Western Literature” existential English elective class would come over for a potluck dinner. ey would play games that were intentionally absurd-seeming and do puzzles that always made the most analytical students the most frustrated—a deep and early lesson on the need for multiple intelligences. More importantly, I got to watch
and participate in the banter and connection between high schoolers and between students and their teacher. I saw the mutual admiration that grew between my father and his students and watched former students return for long conversations at critical points in their lives: before taking a job, when a marriage fell apart, when a child arrived.
So my choice to teach was an intentional one. I saw the life that it provided for both of
my parents and both of my stepparents—a life that continually connected them to young people and, in doing so, kept them young in spirit. It was a life that continually injected vital perspective into their day-to-day adult lives. is was appealing to me even if my 22-year-old self didn’t fully appreciate the impact it would have on my life.
“I teach because it makes me laugh, daily. And it gives me joy. And it gives me hope. And laughter, joy, and hope feed me.”
Teachers will tell you about the thrill of the moment of discovery for a student, the “aha”
moment when a young person who has been laboring hard nally makes the connection and it clicks. I agree that these moments are profound, and I can name speci c times with speci c students, some decades ago now, when this happened. But I also enjoy when students challenge what I thought to be true, which one has to be ready for and enjoy in order to excel in the classroom.
I have found that I love school, as well, probably an obvious statement for a teacher, but for reasons that one may not guess. I love school for the ritual and the rites of passage that it o ers. ese transitions never get old even if they are familiar. For example, it’s thrilling to watch the senior class become themselves at their retreat. Each class is di erent, and every year I never know how it’s going to turn out. And that is exciting. Each class I have taught, every year, every semester, every unit, every day, every kid is a puzzle with an uncertain ending. ese puzzles have drawn on my instincts, my training in psychology, my experience as an athlete
and student myself, and my observations of their world, not mine, and I am fully engaged. And there is nothing better in life than being fully engaged. True, school is unpredictable, and that can be maddening and exhausting, but that unpredictability is what makes it an adventure.
Finally, I teach because it makes me laugh, daily. And it gives me joy. And it gives me hope. And laughter, joy, and hope feed me. Recently, I was fortunate to run into three former students from Seattle and one from my very rst year of teaching in Pebble Beach. It was a reunion with a friend each time. ey were mature and thriving and doing meaningful things in the world.
And I had something to do with that. What a life!
an Healy Head of School
MENLO MAGAZINE
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