letters to my class

Dear Learners,

Sometimes I’ll cook something from a recipe. And usually it turns out okay. But I never really learn anything when I cook from a recipe. I don’t feel like a chef. It’s just one step after another.

But when I try to make something up. When I think about the ingredients and how they go together. And when I really screw it up. (And then choke it down anyways.) That’s when I learn a lot about food and cooking. 

You can learn some things in a step-by-step process. And you might even get the right answer. But true learning—the kind that changes who we are—comes in starts and fits. And lots and lots of failure.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Political Animals,

We’ve been reading about corn production in the United States. But really, we’ve been learning about resources and how we decide which ones to develop. And it’s a nice thing that you’ve started doing this in 5th grade, because it’s something that you’ll do for the rest of your life.

Harold Laswell says that politics is deciding “who gets what, when, and how.” We like to play political games and gussy it up in pageantry, but the heart of the matter is divvying up resources. 

And there is no way it’s “supposed” to be. It’s all up to us—we the people—to decide. And if you’re not involved in the messy process of making those decisions, they get made for you.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Earthwalkers,

You could go through life without knowing that day and night are caused by Earth’s rotation or that the seasons are caused by Earth’s tilt. Indeed, for most of human history, people did exactly that. 

This knowledge won’t necessarily put money in your pocket, make you more handsome, or help you deal with the difficulties of daily life. 

But I do walk differently through this world knowing about the heavens overhead. My foot lands a bit more forcefully when it knows the world it’s stepping on is a spinning sphere. And I feel a little closer to all the other people who have walked on this same spinning sphere, watching the same stars overhead, and all the time asking that same eternal question, “Why?”

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Finders,

About once a week I lose something. Keys or wallet. Shoes or sunglasses. And I maniacally rush around the house, looking in all the obvious places. And the not so obvious places, like the time I put my car keys in the Taco Bell takeout bag and put it in the trash. 

Eventually I find them and feel that rush of relief that’s the best feeling in the world. And wouldn’t it be nice if we could feel that feeling more often? If we could lose things intentionally just to feel the thrill of finding them?

But we can’t lose things on purpose. It’s just a little puzzle that the universe gives us, a blessing in disguise.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Datekeepers,

I used to make fun of teachers who wrote the next day’s date on the board before they left. I’d go into their rooms to pester them after school and say, “Oh, wow, it’s already tomorrow in here!”

Then I tried it myself, and I’m a fan. But I learned a secret: It’s not writing down the next day’s date that’s the good part; it’s erasing the current one.

Because you can’t start tomorrow until today is over. And some days it feels really good to get today over with. Wiping out the current date reminds us that we get another chance tomorrow.

Of course, the good days get erased just like the bad ones.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Americans,

Yesterday was Constitution Day–the 236th anniversary of the Framers signing the United States Constitution in Philadelphia. 

Many countries have Constitutions (and celebrate them on Constitution Day). And many of those Constitutions are modeled after ours because it’s the oldest (and the shortest) and it’s held up over time.

While other countries have long histories of kings and tyrants, our history started as an idea. That people should rule themselves; that we’re a country of laws, not rulers; and that we’re tied together by principles, not ancestry.

We haven’t always lived up to those ideals. But each day we strive to “form a more perfect Union” and “secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity.”

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Clotheswearers,

The other day I was wearing a new shirt and I got a Mr. Sketch marker stain on it. Because it seems that you’re significantly more likely to stain a shirt on the first day you wear it than all ensuing days combined. 

Wearing a new shirt can be rough. It’s not broken in, it itches around the neck, and it hasn’t become a part of you. You see yourself in a mirror in a new shirt and you do a double take—is that really me? 

It takes years of wear for a shirt to become our favorite. And by the time it does, the neck is tattered, some seams are loose, and the front is a memory book of fading stains.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I’ve discovered a new life hack. I continue working on a task—dishes, laundry, grading—until it’s completely done. I know it seems easy. But I assure you, it is not.

Because the secret is picking a task that the person completing—you—is likely to finish. And what that person is going to be like when they’re elbow deep in soapy water, staring at a pile of to-be-sorted socks, or halfway through a stack of math tests is often a mystery to us.

So the real life hack is knowing ourselves. Our limitations, our bad habits, and our strengths. And accepting that this afternoon’s version of ourselves won’t be a whole lot different than this morning’s.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

This weekend a bird pooped on my car. And it was a big one. Streaked all down the side of the passenger door. When I saw it Monday morning, I thought for sure I was going to have to go through the carwash on the way home.

And then it rained. 

And when I came out to my car as the afternoon sun dried up the last of the day’s rain puddles, my car absolutely sparkled. No bird poop in sight. 

Family, friends, food, health. We ought to be thankful for these big things. But we can be thankful for the little assists that life gives us along the way as well.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

When I drive to school in the morning, part of my commute is in the wrong direction. I’m trying to get to the interstate, so I can go faster on my next leg of the route. But I always feel a bit foolish while I’m driving north to get south.

Life is full of such moments. Sometimes we’re going in the wrong direction. But if we have a larger plan–a blueprint for getting where we want to go–and we believe in it and follow it faithfully, then we’ll get to our destination.

But if we’re just living life turn by turn, we’ll never end up where we want to be.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt