Many Children Left Behind

It's been a rough week here at WB.

When I first came to WB ten years ago, it really grabbed me what a family feel this place has to it. It's not just me. People who move from WB to a different school say that's the first thing they notice about the new school--it just doesn't feel like WB. We've always prided ourselves on the way this place feels like one giant family. We look out for each other. When one person hurts, everyone jumps in and comes together.

I think this is the greatest legacy left behind by Mr. A. He always told us that there were more important things than numbers and assimilation. Things like individuals. And this comes from someone with excellent statistics. In the end, he was far more worried about people than he was his numbers.

The first time I went in to visit him at the hospital, Mr. A looked at me, and the first thing he said was, "It's amazing how quickly everything can change, Jeff. It's amazing how all the sudden, so much that mattered before suddenly doesn't matter at all." He sat me down and held my hand while he started telling me about how well the boys were doing in school and all of their accomplishments. He had e-mailed me a few times during the school year to tell me about how much he appreciated what I had done for them.

In my nine years as a full-time teacher, and ten years here at WB, I've experienced death a few other times like this. Each time, it rings out through the entire school and shows what a family WB really is. This was always something that Mr. Akin always took such great pride in. The way everyone can bicker and fight all the way through their lives together, but the moment something especially tragic or especially wonderful happens, everyone comes together for each other. I've always prided myself on the fact that my classes tend to be like a family. I've always said that I don't expect everyone to always get along, but I do expect you all to stick up for one another when it counts. And as we've moved through this school year, I've found that to be true more and more.

One thing that I think I need to remind you about, and one thing that Mr. A reminded me of when I visited him in the hospital that first day, is that you as kids should never ever ever judge your worth as a human being based on how well you do in school as long as you really are trying your hardest (and you know whether you are or not, don't fool yourself), and not based on how well you do in sports or piano competitions or cheerleading or whatever you do. Those things, those grades, those trophies and medals...those are just things that are sitting next to you. Those aren't any part of what you are as a person.

As proud as Mr. Akin always was of his accomplishments both as a soccer coach with several state titles and as the principal of the school who got the top ISTEP scores in the state, I know that in the end, his true pride was that WB was a family while we were under his reign. And even though you're leaving for bigger and better things next year, I hope you all realize that you're still going to be a part of the WB family. Just like when you move away to college, you'll still be a member of your family. I think this is the greatest tribute we can give him: to hold these things dear. To take care of each other. To stand up for one another. To always be a family.

Now that Mr. A is gone, we have to take this idea--this command--and do it. We have to look out for each other. We can't let it start anywhere else, because it probably wouldn't. I have no control over your actions, but I know what I would do. And you know what you should do, too.

Godspeed.