letters to my class

Dear Humans,

Each morning in the classroom, the first thing I do is plug in chromebooks. And it might be the best part of my day. Because when I’m doing it, I think it’s the most important thing in the world and only I can do it. 

In reality, if I forgot, it would probably be okay. And I could come up with a different system where all the chromebooks charge at once. But this is what I do instead.

We all have responsibilities throughout the day. And the best way to do them is the best we can. If we imagine nobody else in the world can do them as well as us, then a monotonous, boring chore turns into a sacred task. 

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Yesterday we learned about the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588. That was a big deal–-a turning point in history. And it was a long time ago and it happened across the ocean to people who were a lot different from us. 

People often ask me, “How do you make history relevant to the students’ lives?” And I say, “I don’t.” Sure, I try to explain how past events led to the present. The languages we speak, the things we believe, the way we live.

But the real reason we learn history is so we might make our own lives relevant to history. That we might lead the kind of lives that show up in history books 435 years in the future.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

I work really hard to get the last bit of peanut butter out of the bottom of the jar. If the first dollop was as difficult to get out as that last smidge, I’d probably give up on the whole enterprise.

But there’s something about that last little dab. We’re willing to work for it, even if our hands get a little sticky.

It’s probably the same reason some of you like to write with the short nib of an over-sharpened pencil. You have to hold it uncomfortably by the ferrule, you write with painstaking slowness, and your handwriting is a mess, but there’s something joyful in the salvage.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. We live in a time with lots of AI-generated images and videos and Beatles songs, and it’s easy to get tricked into believing something is real that isn’t really real. 

So you’re going to have to be on the lookout. There are some technical tricks for figuring out if an image is real, but the best test is the too good to be true test. If an image makes your side look all good and the other side look all bad, it’s probably fake. 

If it’s something you really, really want to be real, then you should probably give it a second look.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

When you’re growing up, you might think that the way you and your family do things is the normal way–the foods you eat at Thanksgiving, the way you prepare them, the words you say before you eat them, the volume of your television.

But there is no normal in this life–no set way it’s supposed to be. But you’ll only see the panoply of options that life gives us if you open your eyes to new sights, your ears to new sounds, your mouth to new flavors, and your mind to new ideas.

You might still prefer the way your grandmother makes her buttery mashed potatoes. And that’s fine. But there are lots of ways to prepare a potato.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

My favorite Thanksgiving activity is playing board games with my family. And though it’s fun to play (and even more fun to win), my favorite part is putting the game back in the box when it’s over.

In real life, things don’t often fit in their original boxes. They grow, change, and get messy. So it’s nice when all the pieces have their own baggies, the dice have their own little cutouts, and the board precisely folds and perfectly fits in the box.

Especially since you’ve just been immersed in an imaginary world where your every thought was focused on carrying out a winning (or losing) strategy. And then that whole world gets packed in a box, put on a shelf, and forgotten.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

It’s normal to look forward to the weekend. We all do. But then the weekend comes and there you are folding laundry or standing in the checkout line at the grocery store, wishing you were somewhere else.

People tell me I should practice mindfulness. When I’m in the checkout line, I should only be in the checkout line; when I’m folding laundry, I should only be folding laundry. 

Which sounds fine, but wishfulness is pretty great too. Humans live as much in our minds as we do in our bodies, and those minds can take us to far-off, wonderful places. Imaginary places that are almost always better than the real thing. 

It’s okay to spend some of our time there as well.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Don’t save seats. On the bus, in the cafeteria, at an assembly. I know we’re all creatures of habit and we tend to associate with the same people, but it’s dangerous to get too stuck in our ways.

Besides, an open seat is an opportunity. To meet someone new, to see the world from a new perspective. Don’t waste that opportunity for an old friend who’s already told you all the jokes they know. 

One of the most important things you learn in school is how to get along with new people. Because you’re going to spend the rest of your life working alongside them, sharing the road with them, creating your communities with them. And sometimes sitting next to them.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Your socks will lose their matches. That’s just something that happens. You can set up systems to slow it. But eventually you’ll be holding a green argyle sock in one hand, fruitlessly digging through the laundry pile for the other one. 

There are just too many places a sock has to go. The hamper, the washing machine, the dryer, the to-be folded pile on the couch. And finally back with its partner into the sock drawer.

But if you’re lucky, by the time your sock loses its partner, the heels are worn through or the elastic cuff has lost its stretch or there’s a hole in the toe, and it’s time for a brand new pair anyways.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt

Dear Humans,

Human beings are a moving species. Ever since our ancestors descended from the trees and walked upright, we’ve been keeping our eye on the far distance. And our curiosity has driven us there. To every corner of the Earth and beyond.

We are shipbuilders, astronauts, deep sea divers, hot air balloonists, and travelers. Even when we settle down and plant crops, we don’t last in any one place for long. Sometimes we choose to move, sometimes we’re forced to move by the environment or other humans, sometimes it’s both. But we are a moving people. It’s what we do. 

And our homes are wherever we make them.

Sincerely,

Mr. Curt