What is a teacher?  How do you measure the effect they have on the countless numbers of children whose live’s that teacher touches?  How can I look back on the career of my dearly departed friend, Arty Miller, and properly evaluate his role as a teacher in our community?

Our government and pencil pushing bureaucrats think they have the answer, and it looks like this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

According to the bureaucrats and policymakers who dictate education policy, we can effectively measure the worth of a teacher in a calculation that is more complex than Erwin Schrödinger’s differential equation which explains the quantum nature of matter and light (see HERE if you wish to get an idea).  You can, apparently, boil the life’s work of an educator down to a single number.  A good teacher, according to those who don’t teach, can be quantified.  Tell that to my friend Arty…

Over the past 14 years I have been blessed with having the opportunity to be friends with a man whose dedication to my profession was beyond compare.  From my first glimpse of him rolling his “wheelie bag” down the hallways of our middle school – until the last day I sat with him in his room last June, I saw an educator who made a real difference in the lives of all those who sat in his room 180+ days a year.  Whether it be dressing up in traditional Chinese attire to teach about his experience in China and the “China Ship” (inside joke), or his daily, boisterous greeting of his students with “GOOD MORNING CLASS!!!” – and their equally enthusiastic reply “GOOD MORNING, MR. MILLER”, my friend always went above and beyond.  Even after 14 years of teaching, Arty would confide in me that he still spent hours EVERY night, grading papers, writing lesson plans and putting together presentations for his classes.  He could not grasp how I actually had nights where I did not have to do any school work.  For 14 years he asked me for my secret to cutting down on my workload, and for 14 years I was too afraid to admit that I wished I had his level of commitment…

While at school, Arty was a teacher first and everything else came second.  But what is a teacher?  What makes a good teacher and why was my friend the very best one I have ever had the pleasure of knowing?  Simple.  It’s heart.  His was unmatched and bigger than anyone else I have known in my 39 years.  You can’t measure heart.  There is no metric that can adequately define it or quantify it.  My friend was all heart.  That is why he was such a great teacher.  Ask any student who had him and the answer is the same:  “Mr. Miller was the best.”.  No doubt.  The best.

Someone once shared with me this “poem” about a good teacher:

a good teacher:

is kind

is generous

listens to you

encourages you

has faith in you

has time for you

keeps confidences

shares their love

takes time to explain

is a helper

tells you how you are doing

allows you to have your say

does not give up on you, ever

values your opinion

makes you feel clever, imaginative and worthwhile

stands up for you

tells the truth

is forgiving

-anonymous

 

My friend Arty Miller was all of these things and more.  There is no equation that can measure that.  Notice that poem does not mention data, or numbers? Why not? Simple: There is no test a child can take that can demonstrate the effect a great teacher like my friend has.  My heart is breaking – and has been for some time now, that our profession is moving in a direction that values numbers above all else.  Arty often shared his frustrations with me over this.  He never spoke out.  He never complained.  He soldiered on and accepted every rating he received, and yes – many of them told a different story about his ‘effectiveness” than you would think… yet he kept doing the best he could.  Arty confided in me on more than one occasion that he wasn’t sure he could keep going on teaching, not because of his students, not because of his workload, but because of a system that seemed to take more and more heart and soul out the profession he had poured ALL OF HIS into.

My friend Arty was the best teacher I have ever known, and every student who sat in his class can corroborate that. If I were not here to share that, and if you went by the rating system that he was judged under, he would just show up as another average educator.  My friend Arty wasn’t average.  He was the best.  He is what every teacher should be.  My friend was all heart and his teaching was testament to that.  You don’t have to take my word for it though.  All the evidence you need to see that truth is the sadness and devastation his loss has created in our community.  I would share with you EVERY note, comment and post that parents, students and fellow teachers shared with me over the past two weeks, but I just don’t have the bandwidth to it.

In the wake of the loss of my only son, I started a movement to make the world a little kinder.  We are well on our way to our goal.  I now have an added mission, to advocate for all the Arthur Millers out there who never had the chance to say how they feel our profession is being usurped by profit driven, data hungry, heartless bureaucrats who are sucking the heart and soul out of the profession he dedicated his life to.  I  know how you measure a good teacher.  You compare them to my friend, Arty.  There is no equation that can do that.  His life’s work was more than just a number.  How do you measure heart?  You don’t.  You feel it.  You see  it.  You experience it.  My friend understood this.  The reason he was the best is because he was all about that which is inherently immeasurable.  I didn’t just lose a best friend… the world lost a great teacher.  Arty didn’t break the mold for being a good teacher: He IS THE MOLD for being a good teacher.  Don’t let the numbers fool you.  You can’t measure heart…

I love you, my friend. Rest in piece.  I will never be able to walk down into your classroom again to share a story or give you advice.  The world many of us woke up into this morning is a diminished one.  I vow to make sure we work towards making it a better one, in your name.  Godspeed Arty… heaven’s gain is our loss.

If your life was touched by Arty, please share below in our comments.  Let’s show “them” that my friend was more than a number…

 

 

 

As I sit to write this blog entry my best friend, Arty Miller, is dying  has died in a hospital 50 miles away in New York City.  I wrote the other day about our friendship (Click HERE to read) so I wont go into details, suffice to say he is the definition of a true friend.  Over the last week, as his health continued to decline, I found myself faced with the spectre of losing yet another person whom I expected to share the remainder of my time under the sun with.  With each new day’s progressively worse news I found myself taking a mental role call of all the souls in my life that I have lost: All 7 of my uncles, nearly all of my Aunts, several close cousins, both of my Grandmothers, my father and finally Rees.  My family tree, which once was full and verdant – now finds itself almost as barren and grey as a winter oak.

After losing Rees, I really thought I couldn’t lose much more.  I was wrong – and now I find myself on the verge of losing the friend who helped steer me through my greatest loss. I keep trying to wrap my head around how a good man can be taken from a world that clearly needs more goodness in it.   I shudder to think of the effect the loss of his kind heart will have on an entire community of people whose lives he touched.  What purpose does taking a 36 year old man with a heart of gold from this world serve?   How can I lose my son, my childhood best friend and my adult best friend all within the span of two years??  I am sick of losing.  I have lost too much.  My friends and family have lost too much.  The very simple question remains: Why?

“How can God let this happen?” – is a phrase my ears keep hearing from those closest to him.  In our inability to make sense of the senseless, we search for answers in a place we will never find them.  I don’t blame God for what is happening.  I can’t blame something that I have no evidence of even existing.  There may very well be a God, but I certainly have never met her or have seen compelling evidence that proves his existence.  I recall denying the existence of one when my little boy died.  I vividly recall the priest coming over to me after Rees was declared dead and offering prayers and comfort – and citing God as a source of both.  My answer was an angry, profanity laced tirade that was as much about anger as it was about my pre-existing skepticism.  When I responded with words I would have never said to a priest at any other time, I immediately regretted them.  I walked over to the priest and apologized and he told me that he forgives me and so does God.  I walked away feeling better about the forgiveness the priest gave me – but as for God?  I am still not sure.

I am not sure whether or not God exists.  I know there are many people who have a belief that leaves no room for any uncertainty.  I wish I felt that way.  I think that most people have some doubt – and I also believe that is healthy.  We are supposed to question the world around us.  Questioning and asking “why?” is what makes us human.  I think that every utterance of “How could God let this happen?” stems from that doubt.  When God is a part of the equation, we don’t have the answers and therefore we are left with a mystery that has no answer.  This combination is one that leaves us more hurt, as God’s perceived silence acts like salt added to a fresh wound.  It is in these times that I find looking at what we know to be true offers more comfort than the question of whether or not God is watching over us, and how he can let terrible things happen.  I find comfort in the things I know…

If we look at the universe from a fundamental perspective you see that we live in a random universe that shows no bias- good or bad, dark or light.  When you take everything that we know about the natural world a realization forms that we are all the stuff of stars…every element in our body was forged in the heart of dying star billions of years ago.  What we are, at an empirical level, is a collection of atomic legos improbably put together to create the vessel our souls hitch a ride in.  Our very existence is so improbable that it borders on impossible, yet here we stand – granted a moment in space-time to bask in the warmth of our own star.  Our moments in the sun are astronomical improbabilities, yet here we stand; capable of understanding our infinitesimally small place in the universe.

We are more than just atomic legos stitched together randomly.  The sum of our parts does not equal the whole.  There is an undeniable “spark” that grants us the ability to look up into the vastness that surrounds us and wonder “why?”.  Call it our soul, ka, vital essence, etc. it’s all the same: it’s energy.  Energy cannot be created or destroyed, merely transformed.  Matter cannot be created or destroyed, merely transformed.  When the atoms that make up our shell break down, they rejoin the milieu from which they came.  Logic then dictates that when we die our energy, our soul must go on.  If that is the case then, upon our passing, we rejoin the flow of energy that binds the universe together and become part of a larger “force”.

Call it what you want… (most simply say “God”) – Science tell us there has to be something more.   My experience with Rees has given me all the evidence I need to corroborate this.  My friend has only left his shell.  He will always be here, just a bit less organized.  If I accept these precepts as the truth we understand today then there is no need to condemn anything or ask “why him?”.   If you look at our existence this way, and realize that there already exists the evidence that we never truly die, then there is great comfort to be found there.  We will all be reunited one day, in another form. That’s why I don’t say goodbye, and also how I reconcile the fact that beautiful people are taken when others clearly don’t deserve, or appreciate, the gift of their moment under the sun.

I will miss my friend Arty all the days of my life.  I have lost someone who helped steer me through the travails of this life.  Right now I feel lost.  I have lost.  I will lose.  But I also must remember all that I gained from the fact he existed here: He made my moment in the sun a better one and his love and memory will continue to do so until that day my moment ends and I am reunited with him. I love you brother.  Give Rees a hug from his Daddy.  I know you are out there my friend. We will continue that conversation on another plane. You will always be a superhero to me.  May the force be with you, always…