Back to School

Preparing to go back to school is much like the grieving process.

First, denial: "What? It's August already? No! It can't be!"

Second, anger: "I had SO much to get done this summer, and I've done none of it. None!"

Third, bargaining: "Okay, if I get some work done now, maybe I can enjoy the last few weeks of summer."

Fourth, depression: "Only two weeks left. That means only ten more weekdays to sleep in. Only ten more days to do what I want. Ugh." Much like traditional grieving, this stage seems to last the longest.

Fifth, acceptance: "I get to see my kids again. I get to have more of a purpose again. I get to feel the satisfaction of a tired brain again. Fine, yes, I'm also getting a bit bored."

And while I hate (loathe, really) the Target back-to-school displays that pop up right after the 4th of July, I come to enjoy the commercials by this time of year. This one especially helped me move to Step 5.

They Called Him Coach

In the middle of July in 1987, my family piled into our Toyota minivan and drove from Minnesota to California. The highlights of the trip were supposed to be Disneyland and visiting family, and for most of us, they were. For my dad, however, the highlight was having his picture taken at center court at UCLA.

John Wooden, the inveterate coach of the Bruins who passed away yesterday, won ten national championships in twelve years. And, more importantly to me, he was my dad's hero. My dad owns an autographed copy of Coach Wooden's book They Call Me Coach (thanks to my mom), and he even met Coach Wooden in an elevator once (a story I've heard at least 200 times).

John Wooden was obviously an amazing coach, but he was an even more amazing person. He taught his players as much about life as he did about athletics, famously saying, "What you are as a person is far more important that what you are as a basketball player." If modern-day coaches (not to mention any other type of leader) could follow just one of Coach Wooden's famous maxims, imagine the world we'd live in:

"Make each day your masterpiece."

"Don't measure yourself by what you have accomplished, but by what you should have accomplished with your ability."

"If you're not making mistakes, then you're not doing anything. I'm positive that a doer makes mistakes."

"Success comes from knowing that you did your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming."

"Success is never final; failure is never fatal. It's courage that counts."

"The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones."

"Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out."

"Winning takes talent, to repeat takes character."

"You can't live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you."

And my personal favorite:

"It's what you learn after you know it all that counts."

In memoriam

About 14 years ago, just as Matt's family was preparing for Christmas in Cancun, Matt's dad brought home one of his most spontaneous purchases: an English Setter puppy named Daisy (or, as Matt would come to spell her name, Daizy, because she's from the "Streetz").

For nearly a decade and a half, she was a member of Matt's family. She was a faithful hunting companion, a playmate to four very lucky children, and the most loyal dog I've ever seen. She and Matt's dad were especially close; she would lie under his desk and wait for him whenever he left the house.

In recent months, the years started to take their toll on Daisy. Arthritis plagued her joints to the point that even going outside to use the bathroom was too painful. Yesterday morning, Matt's parents made the painful decision to let Daisy stop suffering. While one always knows intellectually when it's time to say good-bye, that awful day is never any easier.

We'll miss you, Daisy Doo! We'll always love you, and we'll never forget you.

Good-byes said too soon

I've been to far too many funerals for people under the age of 18. Really, just one is too many. Since I started teaching nearly a year ago, our school has lost three students tragically. I taught one of those students last year; another passed away this weekend.

Deaths of young people always seem senseless, but they often seem to be preventable as well. The teens I've lost have died by driving recklessly or by carelessly walking where they shouldn't have been. They're young and fearless: too young for death to find them.

I know someday, several years from now, Matt and I will have to let our children drive, take risks and learn from bad decisions. I just hope that they always remember how fragile a life can be, even a young one.