A new school role he didn’t see coming

Serving as diocesan superintendent puts him back with those called by the Master Teacher

By George Valadie

I didn’t see that coming! A few short weeks ago, I was spending a good bit of my days on the back porch.

Sleeping late. Hitting thousands of golf balls at the driving range—to little avail. With my biggest worry seeming to be how many carbs I was eating each day—to even less avail.

I was also Ubering the grandkids some and buying their love with stops at Sonic and Starbucks. Brady eats like the growing teenager he is and loves nothing more than fries and a big ol’ chocolate milkshake. Emma prefers something I don’t understand and can hardly order.

Each day was different from the next, though since all are under the direction of our dog, Gipper, who when he “says” he wants to go walking … he means he wants to go walking.

It had been three years since I had stepped away from my role as a Catholic school administrator. But 11 since my wife and I had moved back to our current home. And it was only when we retired that we discovered the peace and joy of our back deck.

Before, I bet we hadn’t been out there eight times in eight years.

But it quickly became where we ate our meals, read our books, and watched Andy Griffith and the Braves.

Relaxing as our life had become, when friends and family would ask how it’s going, I often shared how much I missed it.

And I did. Not the stupid stuff, of course. But the kids and the teachers and the energy in the building. It’s an energy that’s hard to describe—difficult to imagine for many—but so much fun if you’re the sort who gets tickled by teenagers.

Still, a few months after stepping away, I ran into one of our school’s moms at a basketball game, who offered, “You look great, so relaxed.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. I really mean it. You look really, really good.”

Causing me to wonder just how bad my job had made me appear and then to realize that retirement must offer some unexpected benefits as well—like fewer bags under your eyes.

But then I got the phone call.

It came this past April and informed me the superintendent of our diocesan Catholic schools had announced a need to relinquish her position in order to assist a family member with health issues.

“Any chance you’d be willing to think about stepping in on an interim basis?”

Unexpected is an understatement.

Fast forward a few months, and we’ve kicked off another new school year.

In a recent message to our families, I spoke of how any time schools crank up—no matter how many times one has been where they are—there’s always something new. And “new” never fails to bring its share of anxiety.

Sometimes we think, “What an ingenious idea!” But not always. On occasion it’s more like, “What took them so long!” And yes, every so often, we think, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

I’ve thought all that, and I’ve caused all that.

So here we are again. With lots of new.

New bishop. New teachers. New friends. New rooms. New roles. New ideas. New ways of doing things. And a new superintendent.

We—you and I, all of us—we want and need this puzzle to come together. Nothing less than our children are at stake—their faith, their souls, their minds, and their future, and the one they will leave for their children.

And we—all of us—also have a role in helping this puzzle come together.

But none of us—no bishop, no mom or dad, no principal, and certainly no superintendent—can ever make the impact our teachers do.

According to the Educational Research Newsletter, “Although curricula, reduced class size, funding, family, and community involvement all contribute to school improvement and student achievement, the most influential factor is the teacher.

“Research in Tennessee revealed that students who were placed with highly effective teachers for three years in a row significantly outperformed comparable students on a mathematics assessment (96th versus 44th percentile).

“Data reveals that a student who has an outstanding teacher for just one year will remain ahead of her peers for at least the next few years.

“It is clear that the common denominator in school improvement and student achievement is the teacher.”

The grandkids would say, “Well, duh!” It’s not like we didn’t know that already, but it’s worth reading again. Twice.

Sadly, however, multiple studies also foretell the ongoing exodus of teachers from the profession, with estimates of some 20 percent nationwide planning to step away in the next five years.

But thankfully, in the world of Catholic schools, data indicates that almost 90 percent of our teachers stay. There are all sorts of reasons—obvious and otherwise—but my firsthand experience reveals the heart of the matter and the heart of the teachers.

They believe they have been called by the Master Teacher to do the work He left unfinished. And they understand “why” He called: it’s the kids who sit in their desks each and every day.

For many, their call to teach was unexpected, too.

They were doing something else, working toward something else, dreaming of something else.

But occupations aren’t the same as vocations.

Still, His call didn’t say it would be easy. Nor did He say riches or respect or sainthood awaited the journey’s end.

Can we help? No, we weren’t all called to be teachers. We were called to other passions and other tasks. But we can all respond to the call to support those who were.

After all, it’s our kids and grandkids who sit in those desks.

Thank you for whatever you have done and whatever you can do. I haven’t been in this job long, but I’m pretty sure I’ve learned this: all are needed, all are called.

Dear God—May we school folks answer every part of your call … to keep learning our craft and keep loving our students. Your students. Amen.

 

George Valadie is a parishioner at St. Stephen Church in Chattanooga and author of the newly released book “We Lost Our Fifth Fork … and other moments when we need some perspective.”