letters to my class

Dear Humans,

I’ve been thinking about welcome mats lately. Whether they’re snarky or funny, simple or over-the-top decorative, welcome mats say two things at the same time. They don’t just say, “Welcome, we’re glad you’re here.” They also say, “But please, before you come in, wipe your feet. It’s a rough and muddy world out there.”

The welcome mat reminds us that the host has responsibilities to the visitor–offer us some water, a place to sit, some mildly interesting conversation. But as visitors we have some responsibilities too–mind our manners, take what is offered, and wipe our feet.

The welcome mat knows this and gently reminds us of it–just sitting there, minding its own business. 

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Sometimes in schools we treat you as human becomings rather than human beings. As not-yet-adults who always have to get ready for the next standard, the next grade, college, and career. We talk about continual improvement and growth and leveling-up.

And those things are all important. But it’s also important that sometimes we remind you that you’re already good enough. Because though it’s true that your brains are not yet fully-developed and you will change a lot over time, there’s also a lot of you that will stay the same. 

So strive, get better, improve. But do it to be a better version of the you that you’ve always been and always will be. Not some future you that you can’t even recognize.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

There comes a time each year where I start birdwalking–teaching off topic–about the internal combustion engine. We’re learning about natural resources, and I start blathering about sparks, fuel, explosions, pistons, and the mechanical energy that got you to school.

I’m the worst person in the world to talk about internal combustion engines because I have to look in my owner’s manual to fill up with gas. But one time I saw a diagram of the internal combustion engine in a textbook and it left me mesmerized.

Humans come up with some smart stuff! And then other humans come along and make it even better. That’s the beginning and end of basically all we learn in school. So I guess it’s not too far off topic.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Sometimes when I’m driving out and about I find myself quietly rooting on my fellow humans. When they’re trying to parallel park in a tight spot–“You got this, buddy!” Or when a kid pops and rides a wheelie–“Yes! Excellent!”

Now, I admit that sometimes I say these words sarcastically–“Nice job passing on the right, bozo!” But for the most part I mean them sincerely. And I also know that my quiet words don’t really accomplish anything. They can’t hear them. They don’t see me. 

But something I know even more deeply is that we could all use a few more people cheering us on as we take on this high-wire act of everyday living.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I told my daughter that personal reading should take precedence over schoolwork. Not finishing your homework because you were staying up late finishing a book is the ultimate academic flex.

Because when you’re in college or life, people won’t care what you scored on some test many years ago; but they might care that you’ve read a lot of John Steinbeck books. Because you don’t carry that old test around with you in your head. But you will carry around scenes, lines, and sheet-metal memories of Cannery Row. 

Reading old books (and new ones), watching weird movies, writing stories and poems that no one ever reads, having deep (and dumb) conversations with friends–that’s how you really learn about this world and form a mind that’s prepared to take it on.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

The Colorado state constitution guarantees you a free public and uniform education. But the language actually says “all residents of the state between the ages of 6 and 21 may be educated gratuitously.” Now, in legal terms, gratuitously just means “free.” You don’t have to pay an entrance fee to enter the school door. (Although apples and World’s Best Teacher mugs are nice.)

But in our general language, gratuitously means “over the top” or “more than is warranted.” If you do something gratuitously, you do way more than is expected. 

So that is my new mission. To educate you gratuitously. Over the top. Instead of just learning the 50 U.S. States, we’re going for the territories. Maybe the 10 provinces of Canada and Mexico’s 31 states too.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I put together a lot of IKEA furniture last weekend, and the step-by-step instruction books were helpful. I did, however, read to the end of the manual first. And, occasionally, checked to make sure the dresser I was assembling actually resembled a dresser.

We live in a world full of algorithms, recipes, stacks, hacks, and guides that promise us they will give us what we want if we just effortlessly follow their lead. Just watch a YouTube video. Just ask Siri.

And yet, without the bigger picture, such directions don’t do us much good. We might accomplish a task, but at what cost? Following our GPS app’s turn-by-turn directions will get us where we want to go, without ever knowing where we actually are.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

One of my favorite quotes comes from a biologist named D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson who said, “Everything is the way it is because it got that way.” That’s about as obvious as “Water is wet,” but I often need reminded of obvious things.

I like it because it tells us that everything has a story. That rock sitting over there, the name on that street sign, the latest nonsensical slang that’s all the rage in middle school. It all came from somewhere, and us humans, feeble-minded though we often are, can piece it together.

Sometimes the stories take us to the furthest reaches of our understanding, and sometimes they’re incomplete or paradoxical or straight-up confusing. But everything in this world is findoutable.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Yesterday I saw a little girl riding her training-wheeled bike to the park when she hit a curb and came to an abrupt stop. Her mom had to pick up the entire apparatus–bike and rider both–and lift them up over the curb.

And it made me think of my childhood hometown where my friends and I would ride our bikes all over. We had a shared map of all the best curbs and cutouts to use as ramps for our Huffys. And we’d catch “big” air and felt for sure we’d win the X Games if only ESPN knew our names.

Our obstacles as beginners become the stepping stones to making us great. (Though sometimes our mommies would have to tend to our wounds after wipeouts.)

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

A long time ago people thought it was so important that the children of their neighbors knew about the world that they willingly paid extra money to pay for schools to educate them. And we continue this system today. 

So everyone in the houses around our school pays a little bit extra each month on their mortgage or rent, so you can spend seven hours a day learning, socializing, and becoming productive members of our society. Sometimes these people even vote to pay even more because they want you to have nicer stuff. (Like our brand new school building!)

Remember that. It’s not just your parents or your teachers that you want you to do well in school. It’s also your neighbors.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt