Among my favorite
attributes are those of Humbleness, Encouragement and Servant-Leadership.
The latter of the
three speaks to the quality of setting aside the time and care to mentor
another human being; the wherewithal to add something valuable to a life
representing a third, and altogether crucial variable in the mix, of course.
The other day I
was scrolling through a social media site, and ran across a video which was
posted by a friend in the Atlanta area. The film footage ran all of 12 or 15
seconds, and depicted Lynn’s conductorial work among the youth of that area.
For over many years, she has mentored literally thousands of adolescents and
adults in the inestimably wonderful genre referred to as “Song.”
Following is a
response I left beneath the segment:
“Lynn, when I
played this short video, tears sprang to my eyes, and an involuntary sob sprang
up in my throat. I have served as a formal mentor to numerous young people over
the years, and therefore I can relate to what I viewed here in an especial way.
You have learned well from one of your early mentors. As I have inferred in the
past, Miss Clark would be inestimably proud of you, my friend.”
Miss Clark was,
in the terminology of our era, an “old maid.” She graduated from the same
school in which she, ultimately, taught. I was blessed to “sit under” her
tutelage, as was Lynn, a full half century after she walked across that
familiar stage, and received her “sheepskin.” (As a matter of fact, her faded
diploma still graces the school trophy case).
As I finished my
11th year, and began my 12th, Miss Clark was forced to
retire from teaching, as the result of a terminal illness, and was replaced by
a much younger choral director. Though Mrs. F. was personable and adept in her
chosen field, the students who had known and loved Miss Clark were left with a
proverbial hole in their hearts, and it apparently showed in the music they
generated.
For while Miss Clark’s
Summerlin choral group had consistently rated “Superior” in the annual state
contest, the first year we were without her, we received an “Excellent” rating.
And reminiscent
of that scene in the movie, “October Sky,” in which Homer Hickam visits his teacher,
Miss Riley, in her hospital room, and shows her his prestigious science award,
it is said that in the closing weeks of Miss Clark’s life a similar thing
occurred.
It seems one of our aged conductor’s
students was visiting her at home, or in a hospital room, and Miss Clark asked
the inevitable question; which begged to be answered.
“So, how did ‘we’
do at state contest this year?”
Whether that
student had prepared herself in advance for that proverbial “elephant in the
living room,” or whether she merely possessed the insight to answer in the way
she did, I cannot say.
However, it has
been reported that “Grace,” (at least this is the name I have chosen for her)
responded with,
“Well, Miss
Clark, of course we rated all “Superior’s.”
And with that, I
like to think our beloved musical mentor smiled, and that the little white lie
momentarily assuaged her pain, and helped usher her from this sphere to the
next.
I have recently
been exposed to a couple of wonderful adages; (which I have made my own).
“I am planting
seedlings under whose boughs I never expect to sit.”
(and)
“My students are
living messages to a time that I will never see.”
The inestimable
privilege and power of mentoring. The indescribable wonderment of wrapping
one’s mantle around the shoulders of a younger someone, and entrusting him or
her with all the future years which have not been afforded to you.
One of my interns
once gave me a gift, among the greatest treasures I have ever received on this
side of heaven, when she said:
“Dr. Bill, I
don’t want to disappoint you. I’ll go when you can no longer go. I’ll share
your message when you are no longer able to share it. I’ll speak for you when
all your speaking is done. I’ll continue to impact lives, and teach others to
do the same, long after you have gone on to your reward.”
For there will
come a time, (as it once came to Miss Clark) when they who refer to me, and
people like me, will do so in the past tense,
“He was.”
But until then
the privilege and power of impacting those who come after us
… continues.
William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Copyright 2005.
If you wish to share, copy or 'save', please include the credit line, above
William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Copyright 2005.
If you wish to share, copy or 'save', please include the credit line, above
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