Sometimes it can be difficult to know how to find the space – in our day, in our mind, in our heart – to be quiet, to be mindful. Last week’s #Mindfulness Mondays poem by Rumi suggested that we join a “community of the spirit” and “feel the delight / of walking in the noisy street / and being the noise.”
I’m no expert, but I think we also need to find a way to hear the noise and be part of the world, no matter how hard or sometimes sad that may be, and find our way to bring our best selves to it. Part of this is being witness to what is happening in the world and listening to what pulls our heart strings and to what gives us strength. So even in the midst of what may be loud, crazy and heartbreaking, we can build our resilience and find our way forward. I believe that’s part of what #Mindfulness Mondays is all about – at least for me.
So rather than run from the tragedy of Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida or jump into the debates about what is the appropriate response, I want to instead turn and take the time to give thanks to the teachers, to those who took care of their students on that fateful day, and those who care and work unbelievably hard for their students each and every day.
In that spirit, this week’s poem is one written by former teacher and poet, Mel Glenn, in response to the Newtown tragedy. Mel’s poem – “A Teacher’s Contract” – captures what it is that teachers do sign on for each and every day.
Harriet Sanford, president of the NEA Foundation, later found it and knew that Mel’s poem spoke to teachers’ “sacred contracts ‘forged in love'” with their children. Below is Mel Glenn’s poem – many thanks to Mel for generously granting us the rights to reprint it in full – and Harriet’s reflection on his poem. Both can be found in Teaching with Heart.
A Teacher’s Contract
Between the teachers and the city
there exists a contract,
full of legal obligations on both sides,
pay steps, duties and responsibilities,
all to be negotiated.
But there is a higher, more important contract,
that requires no lawyers,
no arbitration, no picket lines.
It is a contract given, not stated,
ironclad and universal.
It is written on the smart board,
demonstrated in the halls, surrounding
student desks and classroom walls.
It is a contract automatically renewed each year,
forged in love, witnessed daily.
It is never up for a discussion or vote.
It is unchangeable, immutable.
And in Newtown the contract
remains, unbroken in life, in death,
consisting of only two words:
“My kids.”
—Mel Glenn
Reflection on “A Teacher’s Contract”
One of the most important responsibilities of my job as the president and CEO of the NEA Foundation is fostering the collaborative efforts of public school educators, their unions, school districts, and communities to develop learning conditions that support and improve student performance.
Much of this work involves procedures, systems, and negotiations over contracts and administrative structures, but no matter how legalistic the work, I hold on to what I learned when I taught school in Albany, New York, where I grew up. There is one common trait that is in the DNA of teachers—a stubborn and intense desire to do everything possible to help their students flourish and succeed.
When I found this poem buried in the New York Times, just a few weeks before the NEA Foundation’s awards gala, I knew I needed to share it with the more than eight hundred attendees to honor the bond that is at the heart of great teaching.
Over the past year, the national debate on teacher evaluation and student assessment has been intense. And although these conversations are critical to systemic reform, what is often lost is the understanding and acknowledgment of the silent and persistent focus that teachers have on “their kids.” Mel Glenn’s poem and the heroism of teachers during the Newtown, Connecticut tragedy remind us to stay humble: teachers are bound to “their kids” through sacred contracts “forged in love” that go above and beyond the legalese.
—Harriet Sanford
President and CEO
NEA Foundation
Washington, DC
About #Mindfulness Mondays
Each Monday, I post all or part of a poem here and on our Facebook page. Why sometimes just part of a poem? Well, we don’t always have permission to reprint the entire poems. In those cases, we’ll post a few lines to give you a sense of the poem.
All the poems for our #Mindfulness Mondays come from Poetry of Presence or Teaching with Heart. To enjoy the full poem each week, we encourage you to purchase the two books. That way, we can all be “on the same page” in our virtual poetry club.
Click here to purchase Poetry of Presence and here for Teaching with Heart. Poetry of Presence is also available through the Grayson Books, Barnes & Noble and Amazon. Teaching with Heart is also available through Barnes & Noble, Indie Bound and Amazon. As you may notice, I list Amazon last because while Amazon may save you a few dollars, authors get a higher percentage of the price and royalties when you buy their books directly from them or their publishers. Just saying.
Cultivating Conversations and Community
We’d love to hear your response to the poem and/or reflection. Please feel free to post a word, a phrase, a short thought here in the blog’s comment section or on Facebook. And please share the poem and invite a friend or fellow teacher to join us on #Mindfulness Mondays.
To further the conversation and the sense of being in this together, each week Phyllis Cole-Dai, co-editor of Poetry of Presence, or Megan Scribner, co-editor of Teaching with Heart, will respond to your comments. As we go along, we hope to have “guest appearances” from others — poets, mindfulness practitioners, teachers — who will respond to questions and comments posed by Mindfulness Mondays participants.
Seeking Your Reflections
Is there a poem that speaks to you? If so, we hope you’ll consider sending in a reflection for the TeachingWithHeart blog. Here are our submission guidelines and submission form. If you have questions, please feel free to contact us at teachingwithheartfirepoetry@gmail.com. We look forward to hearing from you.
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