I'm No Erin Gruwell, But I Know Who Is

I can’t believe I’ve never seen the movie Freedom Writers until tonight. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never taken the time to watch it. If you’ve not seen it, you should.

It’s a story, based on facts, about one teacher who taught a group of students to be family; that they matter and could overcome the circumstances of their lives. She made a difference.

This movie embodies all the things, I’ve used to describe why I, why anyone, became a teacher: to impact the life of a child in ways the silly state-level boards of education could never fathom. To touch their souls with love, compassion, and hope in ways even most local board members can’t grasp.

And that’s partly why only 3 months after being certified as a Principal, I left the profession. Now, to be clear, there were many other reasons, chiefly financial ones, directly related to the care of my special needs daughter, but when I see things like this, it stirs something deep in my soul which tends to leak out around my eyes.

I realized about halfway into my Principal’s program the system was too broken for widespread change. At least so I thought. It seemed some officials cared more about the bottom line than the children in their halls. I realized I’m no Erin Gruwell. But I knew someone who was. My wife.

For 16 years I’ve watched students come through her class, some with unspeakable circumstances and untold challenges, just like some of the Freedom Writers. And year after year I watch her find ways to reach the unreachable, to bring hope and courage to the ones others tend to forget.

I’ve watched her cry for her students, and she isn’t one to cry very easily. Even that one time when a Head Start student threw boots at her head in a fit of anger, she took it in stride and saw the potential this fiery little girl had if she could but learn to harness that passion and energy.

I see students begin the year in her room with smug and disrespectful attitudes, only to find she will have none of that but will push them to be all they can be. She will see past their bravado and help them to see who they really are.

And for those whose best performance is lower than the rest, she figures out ways to make them feel special and accomplished. It’s simply what she does.

I wept several times during this movie. Partly because I miss the classroom, partly because I still believe every single student has potential and can be somebody, and partly because I realized I had my very own Erin Gruwell and she goes to work every day inspiring hope in some student’s life. She inspires hope in mine, for sure.

I once told a senior education official that he was so busy defending the forest he had forgotten about the trees. My heart is full tonight at this late hour, not just because of a story in a movie, but because I get to see that story every single day played out right in front of my eyes.

Because she sees and cares about the trees. Each and every one.

Some of you reading this are educators fighting the funding fiasco, feeling hurt because your students or program don’t get the top billing other programs do, or maybe you are just tired of the nonsense that has become American education policy. If that is you I want you to listen to what I am about to say. I’m not an acting Principal, nor have I ever gotten the chance to be one, but I’ll tell you what I would tell you the first day of Professional Development if I had the chance:

You may not be able to change the system and your ideas may never be heard or appreciated by the people at the top, but I promise you with all the confidence I can muster, if you will reach out in love and touch the soul of each student in your class, you can in fact change the world … for them.

Here’s to all the Erin Gruwells out there, especially mine, who do what you do every single day whether you receive recognition or not, YOU are my heroes. Keep up the good work.

Dedicated to my wife, Tammy, one of the finest educators I’ve ever known.