letters to my class

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

Dear Historians,

I remember exactly where I was 22 years ago. I think most people who were alive do as well. At the time, I think we all knew that the world was going to change. In how our country related to other countries and in how we thought about safety and security.

And it has. And it’s easy to forget about all these changes because they’ve happened so slowly over the last twenty-two years (while also seeming to happen all at once).

That’s why we study history. It’s easy to accept the world we live in as the way it’s supposed to be. But history teaches us that today is the result of complex causes of the past. And is only one of many possible worlds.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Consumers,

You don’t have to look very far on the internet to see websites ranking products and explaining which of them is the best and why. These sites go to great lengths to investigate the products.

And, for some reason, we’re all really convinced that we really have to have the best vacuum or the best razor.

Because we crave meaning in everything we do. And we think the best things will bring the most meaning. But things don’t create meaning at all. We do. In how we use them and, most importantly, in how much joy and attention we bring to the experience. 

And you can do that with your great grandfather’s straight razor, the latest and fanciest five-blade monstrosity, or a cheap twin-blade Bic.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Writers,

Those famed philosophers the Barenaked Ladies remind us, “It’s all been done.” And the slightly more famous John Lennon said, “There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known.” And it’s true that there have been one hundred billion humans on this earth besides us. And they’ve said and done a lot of things.

But there’s still a place for us. Even if we sing songs that have already been sung, the way we sing them is unique to who we are and where we’ve been. And no one has ever done it just like us and no one ever will. 

If we sing a song as our song, the world will stop everything to hear it.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Scientists,

We’ve been tracking shadows and how they change throughout the day. Because a shadow, not the thing itself, is often the best way to understand something. Especially if that something is as big, bright, and far away as the sun. 

Scientists often study a thing by studying the stuff around the thing–the shadow it casts, the footprints it leaves behind, the twinkling of the light that it emits.

One thing scientists believe is that the mysteries of the world can be known. But the world does not give them up easily. We have to work for it. And we have to find creative ways of discovering it.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Bowlers,

I went bowling this weekend. (Don’t ask about my score.) I’m old enough that I learned how to keep score on clear plastic score sheets that projected through thick smoke onto the screens above the lanes.

It’s all automated now. But I still think learning how to keep score in bowling is one of the most useful things I’ve learned. 

Not because I still use it, but because it taught me that each thing we do has rules to learn. And if we want to play, we need to learn them. Sometimes they’re hidden, and sometimes they’re strange. But they tell us something about the heart of the game. And though it’s more work, that makes it more fun.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Readers,

Craig Arnold wrote a poem called “Meditation on a Grapefruit” and every time I eat a grapefruit I say some lines from that poem in my head. I don’t eat a lot of grapefruit, and it’s a poem, so it’s maybe not really about grapefruit, but the words make my grapefruit taste more like grapefruit.

J. Patrick Lewis wrote a poem about papercuts called “The Unkindest Cut” and anytime I or anyone near me slices their finger with paper, I recite it. When people first hear it, they give me a strange look, but my children love it.

If you surround yourselves with words and poetry, you’ll always have a soundtrack to life. And you’ll more deeply know the pains and joys that make it up.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt