letters to my class

Dear Humans,

Yesterday we talked about Earth’s climate zones. It’s confusing because there are many classification systems. Some say 12 zones, some say five, some say three. They’re all basically the same, but there are always variations.

Because knowing the world is complex: humans disagree and have ongoing conversations about it. And the point of school is not to give you a bunch of facts to remember about the world, but to get you involved in these conversations.

Now, if you don’t know what’s been said in that conversation before, no one is going to listen to what you have to say. But if you do, and if you add your own voice to that conversation, you will have the whole world’s attention.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

We’re reading about technology and how it changes the human world. And since the beginning, since humans first controlled fire, planted a wheat seed, or put a yoke on a beast of burden, we’ve been having mixed feelings about technology.

It greatly improves our lives, but at what cost?

We still have those feelings. We worry about the pressing matters–will this take people’s jobs? And we worry about the existential costs–the Doomsday Clock just moved closer to midnight. But we also worry that technology will change what it means to be human.

You’ll spend the rest of your lives wrestling with these questions. Just like every human before you. But the stakes might be a little bit higher.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Now I’m not gonna sit here and say I enjoy folding the laundry. But it does remind me that you can only do one thing at a time.

You have that big pile of warm laundry and the only way to make it smaller is one piece at a time. (I like to fold the big things first to make the pile seem smaller.)

Other things in my life I try to do all at once. You should see how many tabs I have open on my internet browser. It gives me a headache everytime I look at them. 

I should probably do everything in my life the same way I fold my laundry: one piece at a time.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I’m setting goals for myself in this new year. One of them is to never go to bed unless the kitchen is clean. No more dirty dishes left in the sink. And I’ve been doing pretty well.

But then the dishwasher stopped working.

And isn’t that just the way it goes? Just when you think the living is easy, something goes awry. And the old adage about life never getting easier is true again.

So I can use it as an excuse and convince myself the universe is conspiring against me (it isn’t) or I can spend a couple more minutes with my hands in soapy water and my eyes still fixed on my goals.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Yesterday I got my car stuck in the snow. Right in the middle of an intersection. It was the tall wet slushy stuff and my tires couldn’t catch anything to grab onto.

I spun my wheels for a while. Backed up a little bit and spun them some more. But I wasn’t getting anywhere. Finally, once other cars were out of the way, I backed up all the way behind the stop sign, gathered enough speed, and blasted through the slush.

Sometimes the only way we can go forward is by going back to where we were. And sometimes the only way through something is with a full head of steam.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Yesterday I shoveled that heavy, wet snow. And it was tiring and back-breaking work. My plan was to just clear some of the snow and then come back later. I set my watch’s timer for 20 minutes and after 20 minutes of hard work, I was going to take a break.

But my timer went off and I just kept going. And eventually I just went into a mindless fog of moving snow. I became one with the shovel.

I wouldn’t call it happiness really. I was still weirdly hot and cold at the same time and my back still hurt, but it was contentment. The contentment of getting lost in a task that you know is important and blocking out everything else.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

My daughter likes pigs and hot chocolate. And she has a special pig mug whose handle broke off in the dishwasher. So I got some superglue and patched it back on.

And even though there’s still a crack in it. And even though I told her to use two hands while drinking hot chocolate from it. I know she’ll cherish that mug.

Because the best things in life are those things that have been broken and mended. Broken mugs, broken lives, and broken hearts. Because they’re the things someone cared about enough to fix. And they’re the things we’re a little extra careful with when we see their scars.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

We’re learning about technology. From the wheel to the space shuttle. And every one of those technologies is the same in one way: they exist to make human life better.

And they do. We live longer, move faster, communicate more widely, and know more because of technology. And each of those technologies has changed how we organize ourselves, and even think of ourselves, as human beings.

But technology also changes our lives in ways we didn’t expect. 

Nothing is really all good or bad. Life doesn’t work that way. There are costs and benefits, upsides and downsides, pros and cons. And we live our lives wedged in between them, trying to figure out what we should do next.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Some people think that cursive is an outdated skill. And that schools shouldn’t spend time teaching it. Instead, they argue, you should learn “current” skills like typing with your thumbs, writing code, or programming robots to write code for you. 

The thing about “current” skills, however, is that they quickly go out of style. But one thing that will never go out of style is learning a new skill, practicing it, and mastering it–no matter what the skill may be.

So today we’re going to spend 20 minutes making loopy letters on lined paper. Because I promise you, if you use the “old-fashioned” skills of time, focus, and patience to master cursive, then you’ll have no problem mastering whatever the next “current” skill may be.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I hate taking out the trash. It’s full and it stinks, so it’s important that I do it. And it takes less than 5 minutes. So why do I dread it?

Because I have to put my shoes on.

Putting on our shoes keeps us from doing lots of things. Because it requires us to change. And change is scary. When our shoes are off, we’re comfortable. We’re in for the night and we’re not going to go outside. Because outside conjures evolutionary memories of beasts of the night that will tear us limb from limb.

Think of all we could accomplish if we weren’t so afraid of putting on our shoes.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt