letters to my class

Dear Humans,

In the early 19th century young women left their farms in the Northeast and rushed to the textile factories along the banks of the Merrimack River. These women–who we now call The Lowell Mill Girls–worked long hours in often punishing conditions. 

Now we look back at this moment as a major turning point in the Industrial Revolution. A time that forever changed life in America (for better or worse).

As they tended to those spinning machines, do you think those Lowell Mill Girls ever thought that children almost 200 years in the future would read about their lives and draw lessons about how technology changes individuals and society?

More importantly, do you ever think about how future humans will look back on your life right now and think about what lessons it has to teach them? After all, our lives are letters to the future that we write every day.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I drove all the way up Riverdale Road the other day. Ten miles from just north of 88th to Highway 7. And it got me thinking about history.

Have you heard the stories about Riverdale Road? That you can see a lady in a white dress who disappears as soon as you spot her? That you can see bloody handprints on the street signs? That you can hear screams from where the Wolpert mansion once stood? That a Camaro with one-headlight cruises around the windy curves?

I don’t believe in ghost stories, but I do believe in history. And I do know that history haunts the present. The things that happened in a place make a place–and the people who live there–what it is today.

Even if they didn’t really happen.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Some paleontologists published a paper this week that claimed Tyrannosaurus Rex is not one species, but three. Other paleontologists disagreed. 

Of course, nothing changed about the T.rex. All that’s changed–or is currently being challenged–is our ideas about the T.rex. And, when it comes to a species (or species-es) that has been extinct for over 65 million years, our ideas are all that we have.

Sue–the most complete T.rex ever discovered–is still only about 90% made up of real fossils. And paleontologists are always changing how they arrange those fossils because they’re constantly making new discoveries about what the T.rex looked like and how it moved.

Though the world has changed a lot during my life (I walk around with a computer in my pocket!), it sure seems like the past has changed even more.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I can’t think of much worse than being normal. Always looking at people looking at you and adjusting yourself to what you think they’re thinking. It sounds exhausting. 

Plus, here’s a little secret: other people aren’t thinking about you nearly as much as you might think they are. They are, like all of us, thinking mostly about themselves. 

Besides, being normal seems distracting. The world is so full of things to look at, think on, and enjoy. To always be looking over your shoulder wondering if you’re living up to someone else’s standard seems like a waste of precious time.

So be curious, be critical, be friendly, and be bold. But don’t just be normal.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I’ve been in schools for a long time. So long that I remember when baggy jeans used to be cool. And then I saw when skinny jeans were all the rage. And I’m still here when baggy jeans (or even pajama pants) are back again.

And it’s never been the principals or the teachers or the kitchen staff or the custodian that determined the quality of the school. They’re important, no doubt. And they can help set a tone for a place. But it’s always been the kids.

You live in a place and you have great power over that place. As part of the community, you are in charge of that community. You get to decide what kind of place it will be. With your words, attitude, and actions.

No matter what kind of pants you’re wearing.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Yesterday we learned about the history of thermometers and the Fahrenheit and Celsius scales that we use to measure temperature. And I told you that water boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit. Which is true in the way that most things can only ever be true–it’s true under certain conditions. 

Pure water boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit at sea level. But where we live at over 5,000 feet, pure water boils at about 203 degrees. But, again, it depends on the conditions.

We use tools to try to understand the natural world, but these tools often show just how complex and dynamic that natural world is. It does not easily give itself up to our understanding. And yet our attempts at understanding it will never stop.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

When I was a kid I never kept the pickles on my hamburger. I’d pick them off immediately and there they’d sit on the back half of my McDonald’s clamshell container until my dad snatched them up and ate them.

But this weekend I ate a hamburger and I left the pickles on. And they were those big, fat, juicy pickles. When I saw those thick pickles I thought about taking them off, but then I decided to just go for it. And the pickles were my favorite part of the hamburger.

Things change in life. Things you’ll never expect. You think the world is one way and before you know it, you’ll be living a completely different life. Or at least a life with the pickles still on your hamburger.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Often when I ask kids why we read, they tell me they read so they become a better reader. Which is true. But we don’t apply that logic to very many other things. We don’t drive to become better drivers; we do it to get from A to B. We don’t cook to become better cooks; we do it to fill our bellies. 

And we don’t only read to become better readers; we do it to think better thoughts about the world we’re in. 

Because life is full of big questions, and we need to figure out good answers to them. Big questions like how humans should be, how change happens, how language works, and what is true. If you’re not coming up with better answers to those questions while you’re looking in a book, then you’re not really reading.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I’m not sure how closely you watch the news. When I was a kid I’d catch snippets of it: Tom Brokow’s voice as I was shuffling through football cards, Mikhail Gorbachev staring back at me from the cover of Time magazine on the coffee table. 

And it was all a blur. I wasn’t sure what was happening (or where it was happening), or, most of all, why it was happening.

And now, as Russia invades Ukraine and I’m scrolling through news articles on my iPhone, I get a similar feeling. I know more history, and that makes things clearer, but knowing history doesn’t always prepare us to understand the events that will shape history.

So it doesn’t get easier. And complexity and uncertainty are the rule. But when things are difficult–like making sense of our world–it means they’re worth it.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Congress just passed a law that makes Camp Amache, in southeastern Colorado, a national historic site. Camp Amache was a relocation camp for Japanese-Americans during WWII. After Japan bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941, many Americans feared that Japanese-Americans would side with Japan. 

So Japanese-Americans were forced from their homes and businesses into relocation centers all across the interior American west. Even though many of them were American-born citizens. Even though many of them would fight for the United States in World War II.

Today we look back at those fearful actions with embarrassment and shame.

But the impulse that drove those actions–fear, concern for our own safety at the expense of other people’s welfare–are still with us. And they can still lead us to make big mistakes. Remembering our history, especially when we mess up, is one way to stop that from happening.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt