“The
ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and
convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”
Martin
Luther King, Jr.
By
Tommie Saylor
Kennedy
High School Principal
I’m
reminded of a parable:
A
man is walking along and falls into a deep, dark hole. The man is scared,
tormented and filled with anxiety and concern, for he believes he will never be
able to get out of the hole on his own accord.
Just
then, he sees a stranger walking by and calls out for help. The stranger,
dressed in a white lab coat, stethoscope slung around his neck and possessing a
distinguished chiseled jaw, neatly cut and groomed salt and pepper hair, and
the look of prominence upon his face, studies the situation as the man pleads
for help.
Without
hesitation, the stranger pulls from his pocket a notepad and writes a
prescription and treatment plan for the man, tosses this plan down the hole,
and walks away.
The
man is instantly washed with despair, bringing on a cascade of sweat and
nervous twitching. In efforts to calm down the man takes stock of his
surroundings, allowing the musky, pungent aroma of decaying soil to fill his
nostrils and the surrounding darkness to swallow him whole.
Then
it happens again. By grace’s goodness another stranger approaches the
hole. The man screams for help, releasing a torrent of pent up emotions
purging his soul from the stifling effects of panic and dread. This new
stranger, dressed in the finest of wear, sports coat, necktie and shoes that
shine with a blackened luster almost to the point of becoming a mirror, studies
the man’s predicament with an intense scowl upon his face.
Suddenly
this new stranger retrieves a fountain pen made of gold and a legal pad from
his jacket, and begins scribing a bill to be made into law that will most
certainly help the destitute man in the hole, and tosses this bill down the
hole. He too walks away.
Once
again the man is overcome with horror. “Can’t anyone help me,” he pleads.
Terror
overtakes the man as he begins to claw at the walls of his prison, caking his
nails with rich, black dirt as his very essence begins to slip away.
Then,
one last time this man was blessed with a miracle. A third stranger stumbles
across the hole. This third stranger was a little different than the first
two. He’s of more meager means, dressed modestly, haggard by worry lines, long
hours and hard work.
This
third stranger introduced himself as an educator, studying the man’s situation
with deliberate intensity. Suddenly, this educator jumps down into the
darkened grave-like hole, this cavity of hopelessness, this hollow of
despondency, landing with a thud.
The
man’s eyes widen with wonder, his face drawn of all life and distorted in
shock, and screams at the educator in a horsey, raspy voice choked with
disbelief.
“What
are you doing? Now we are both trapped in this forsaken hole.”
The
educator turns to the man, a confident smile crossing his wise and majestic
face, and proclaims, “Yes, but I have been down in a hole before, and I know
the way out.”
What
kind of educator are you? One who stands at the top of your students’
holes and tosses down lessons and assignments, or one that jumps down into the
hole with your students, showing them the way out.
Helping
students to find their greatness. Making Kennedy the school of choice. Excellence
by design.
