letters to my class

Dear Humans,

My family’s taco night is pretty great. To go with the brown boring basics, we have all these little bowls full of colorful ingredients–red chopped tomatoes, bias-sliced green onions, chipotle-dusted sour cream, purple pickled onions. And you put it all together in your oven-heated hard shell and you have a spectacularly crunchy, spicy, greasy first bite. 

But then there’s the mess. Because all those little bowls need cleaning. And the pots and pans need scrubbing. Not to mention all the time that went into the chopping, dicing, and slicing. 

Most of life is preparing for and then cleaning up after. So we have to make sure that one spectacular first bite is worth it.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

On Friday, our Student of the Month award winner brought us all cupcakes. Because she knows that when something good happens to one of us, it is good for all of us.

Because when good fortune strikes, the best thing to do is share it. Even if that good fortune is almost solely the result of your own hard work, intelligence, or effort (though it seldom is), you should spread it around like the good stuff it is.

Because if we keep our success to ourselves, it hardens into something like greed and selfishness. And that makes it far less likely that we’ll get any more of it.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I let my car get a bit messy. Detritus from the last few weeks layered itself on my seats and floors–McDonalds bags, hoodies, magazines and junk mail. 

But I discovered a hack for fixing the problem–clean it one item at a time and keep going until you’re done. Because that’s really the only way to fix the persistent problems in our life. Keep at them. Over and over.

We could try to turn ourselves into different people with different habits and dispositions. (And lots of places sell the cheap, plastic stuff that promises to help.) But one piece at a time is a lot more effective.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

It’s a great feeling when a favorite songs comes on the radio. “Yes! I love this song!” But if you were to pick out that same song on your music streaming app, it wouldn’t be nearly the same. Because you know that no one else is listening.

The radio, however, goes out to everyone. So the person in the car next to you might just be listening to the same song. And even though your windows are rolled up and tinted, and idling engines are the only music between you, your heads are nodding in unison to the beat.

There’s a lot in today’s world that is personalized. But we still find the greatest pleasure in what is shared.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans

I like to sing, so we do it a lot in class: US states, morning greetings, multiples of 7, and other sundry nonsense. I’m not particularly great at it. But don’t let lack of skill diminish your joy in something. It often makes it more fun.

Plus, just like humans are inherently moved by stories, there’s something special about rhythm and rhyme. They help us remember things because they help us connect to those things. And likewise connects us to other people.

Think of special life moments and you can be pretty sure there will be a song: first wedding dance, funeral processions, start of a new year, and happy birthdays. So keep singing.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I’ve often talked with my daughters about the difference between want and need. You want a Crumbl cookie, but you don’t need a Crumbl cookie. Even if their marketing makes you think so.

And yet, what we all really need most in this life is some other people we can trust. We build that trust by providing for each other–our time, our attention, and sometimes our treats. Because the line between want and need isn’t always as obvious as we think; so we provide both.

So be stingy with your own wants, but generous in satisfying the wants of others. They need it.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Yesterday we did that yarn toss greeting where someone holds the end of the yarn and tosses the skein to the next person and on and on around the circle. And you end up with a web that connects everyone–a nice visual metaphor for a classroom community.

And then we tried to undo it. And we thought it’d end up all neat and tidy back on the skein. But, of course, it got tangled on the very first toss. And any attempts to untangle it just made it worse.

Because that’s what happens when we get into one another’s lives–as classmates, friends, partners, colleagues–our strings get knotted. Your string will tangle up with countless others in your life, but each of those knots matters.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I say “good luck” a lot. You’re getting married? Good luck. Have a kid on the way? Good luck. Taking your kid to college? Good luck. Starting a new job? Good luck. In a new relationship? Good luck. Buying a new car? Good luck.

Perhaps I ought to say “congratulations” or even offer a bit of advice. But I think good luck is better. Because we all know roughly where to steer our ships. We have maps and charts to consult (or YouTube), and we probably even have a loyal crew to help us with the mast and the rigging.

What we really need is a little wind in our sails.

Good luck,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

425. That’s how many minutes we have each school day. When you smash those three digits together, it looks like a lot. And some afternoons when the math lesson drags on it sure feels like a lot. 

But then I look at some of you and think about how I had your older brother or sister in my class what feels like not very long ago. Though the calendar says it was actually many, many, 425s ago. And oh how they fly.

So we do the best we can to fill each one. Some days we do better than others, but no matter what happened yesterday, we know tomorrow gives us a new 425.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I used to walk down the parking lot, look at the damage done to people’s license plates, and judge what kind of driver they were. If their license plate was dinged, dented, or dangling, I thought I knew exactly what it meant: they were a danger behind the wheel.

And then one day I was driving north on I-25 and a piece of busted up tire came out of nowhere and smashed into the front of our car. And left my license plate beat up, bent, and limply hanging from one screw.

And it taught me something that I should have already known: any judgment you put on others will eventually came back around to you.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt