I am thankful for so many things in my life. Four years ago when I was still principal, I wrote the following column for the PTSA newsletter and titled it, "I Am Thankful." Thought I'd share it again...
Principal’s Letter - November 2007
As I sit here contemplating the topic for this month’s edition of the Dodgen Dateline the first thing that comes to mind is to take inventory of the things for which I am thankful. It is, after all, that time of year. First, I am thankful that my list includes items such as a wonderful family, adequate food and shelter, and employment at the best middle school in the United States. Of course I could go on for many more pages. I am blessed indeed. How about instead, I share some things from my list that I am sure you would not have guessed?
The baseball that has scrawled on it the words “I love you very much,” comes to mind. The words were written by my son when he was in Kindergarten. He placed it in a bucket along with all of the other baseballs we used for fielding practice. When I found it I immediately and permanently pulled it from the bucket. It now rests in the ash tray of my vehicle so that I can look at it every day. I don’t smoke, so the ash tray makes a perfect trophy stand.
And then there is a section of the ceiling upstairs at our home that is missing some plaster. The small damaged area is about the size of two business cards. It is located about twelve inches from the pull-down stairway that leads up to the attic. You see, when my son grew tall enough he could not walk past the cord that hangs from the stairway without reaching up to give it a good swat. This in turn caused the knot at the end of the cord to make contact with the ceiling, which caused minor damage to the plaster. Okay, I know what most of you are thinking. Why in the world didn’t you just tell him not to do this? I wonder how the leading child psychologists would weigh in on the question; not that it would change my mind. Truth is it did not occur to me that it would cause damage. Swatting the cord was not an act that was done with intent to destroy property. Bottom line, life is too short to stress about the little things. Some of you reading this may argue that this is not a little thing. We will just agree to disagree.
Oh well… Now that my son has gone off to college I am especially thankful for those little things. The baseball; maybe I can throw it with his kid one day. The area of missing plaster; I think of him every time I walk past.
The baseball that has scrawled on it the words “I love you very much,” comes to mind. The words were written by my son when he was in Kindergarten. He placed it in a bucket along with all of the other baseballs we used for fielding practice. When I found it I immediately and permanently pulled it from the bucket. It now rests in the ash tray of my vehicle so that I can look at it every day. I don’t smoke, so the ash tray makes a perfect trophy stand.
And then there is a section of the ceiling upstairs at our home that is missing some plaster. The small damaged area is about the size of two business cards. It is located about twelve inches from the pull-down stairway that leads up to the attic. You see, when my son grew tall enough he could not walk past the cord that hangs from the stairway without reaching up to give it a good swat. This in turn caused the knot at the end of the cord to make contact with the ceiling, which caused minor damage to the plaster. Okay, I know what most of you are thinking. Why in the world didn’t you just tell him not to do this? I wonder how the leading child psychologists would weigh in on the question; not that it would change my mind. Truth is it did not occur to me that it would cause damage. Swatting the cord was not an act that was done with intent to destroy property. Bottom line, life is too short to stress about the little things. Some of you reading this may argue that this is not a little thing. We will just agree to disagree.
Oh well… Now that my son has gone off to college I am especially thankful for those little things. The baseball; maybe I can throw it with his kid one day. The area of missing plaster; I think of him every time I walk past.
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