I have been blessed to have grown up in a family of educators, to have been influenced by some amazing teachers and coaches as a student and as a colleague, and to have chosen education as my career.  It is the season to think of the blessings we have been given and those that have accompanied us along our lifelong path.  Where would I be today without the guidance and influence of the great educators that taught me, mentored me, and inspired me?  Teaching is not just what I do; it's who I am.  I am a life long learner because the teachers in my life made learning fun for me, and helped me see the importance of knowledge and understanding.  More importantly, they gave the greatest gift of believing in me and helping me to see that I was capable of many things if I only put my mind to it.  The connection between teacher and student or coach and player, is a powerful one that transcends the content.

I am still thinking about the heroic teachers who protected and loved their children through that horrific tragedy last week in Connecticut.  I am thinking of my nephew who is leaving his paraprofessional position to complete his degree, and how much he impacted the students he is leaving behind, and truly how much they impacted him.  I am thinking back on the many little gifts I received from students wanting to wish me a Merry Christmas, and while those were special, and many still hang on my tree each year, the light in their eyes and the warmth of their smile as they wished me a Merry Christmas was the greatest gift of all.  

I am thinking of my college friend, who taught and coached in Texas, and died unexpectedly last year, and the outpouring of love and admiration that was expressed by the many students she taught as they dealt with the loss of their beloved teacher and coach. 

I am thinking of my dearest friends who are still teaching in the classroom everyday, trying to make a difference in the lives of children who may not truly understand all that they are learning is not in the textbooks or the lessons planned for them.  As teachers, we often wonder if what we are doing really matters.  But all it takes is one thank you, one hug, one look at the light in the eyes of a child or a grateful parent, and you know with all your heart that you are doing what you were meant to do.

I also feel blessed to have the opportunity to continue to teach when my grandsons crawl up in my lap to read a book, or to be able to help them with homework, or to show them something they've never seen before.

So thank you to the many teachers who have gone before me... whom I probably didn't tell often enough (or at all) how much they meant to me.  And thank you to the schools who hired me, the students and colleagues who made me want to come to school each day and see what could be accomplished, and to the schools who allow me to come in now to help improve the teaching and learning in their building.  God blessed me when he put that idea in my head a very long time ago that I wanted to grow up and be a teacher.  What a wonderful journey it has been!

Today No Child Left Behind took on a new meaning.  26 people (at last report), the vast majority children, went to school thinking about the letter they recently wrote to Santa, the end of the semester rapidly approaching, that fact that Christmas was 10 days away, or perhaps just excited that it was Friday.  Teachers were shaping lives.  Children were soaking up new learning.  And just like that, the  actions of a lone individual, tormented by whatever thoughts that caused him to make that fatal decision, ended the hopes and dreams of those children and educators.  No one was left behind today; not the victims; not the survivors; not those of us who watch from afar.  We have all been pulled in, touched in some way by this tragedy, even if we didn't know a single person involved.  

Tragedies such this make us realize just how quickly life can be taken for us.  It brings us face to face with our own mortality and the reality that every breath we take could be our last.  We question why innocent children had to suffer.  We wonder why anyone could do such a thing.  We question our beliefs while holding on to our faith.  We mourn the senseless loss.  We imagine what those children could have achieved.  We lament the end of the careers of caring educators who were making a difference. On this December morning, their "dash" ended abruptly; but in the days and weeks to come, we will discover what legacies they left behind.

Linda Ellis wrote a poem in 1996, entitled "The Dash."  It spoke of how the sum of our lives are packed into the dash between the date of our birth and and the date of our death.  What is the worth of our dash?  Did we make a positive difference in the lives of others?  Did we love freely, giving more than we sought in return?  Did we tell others how important they are to us?  The challenge of the message in this poem is for each of us to consider what we are doing with our lives.  What do we need to change?  How can we make a difference?  We can't bring back the earthly lives of the victims of today's senseless tragedy, but we can learn from the lives they lived, and make our own "dash" more meaningful while we celebrate the "dash" of these victims.  

I normally use this space to write about issues or ideas facing educators, students or parents.  Today's issue may be the most important one I've written about.  It is one of the heart, and one we must learn if we are to find something positive to take away from this horrific tragedy.  Everyday, each of us has the opportunity to make a positive difference in someone's life.  Everyday we have the choice, to be happy...or not.  And because we never know when that last moment will be, it is our charge to make our dash the best it can be; to spend time with and hug those we love; to lend a helping hand.  Say a prayer tonight for those who lost their lives today and for those who live on.  Please use this heartbreaking reminder to make your dash a little more meaningful; to make someone's life more bearable; and to love and laugh a little more often.