On the last day of last month I sat on an uncomfortable folding chair, in the cool of the evening with the setting sun on my back, and watched my youngest child walk confidently across the football field to accept his diploma. It was an incredible moment for sure, made all the more special by the educators who also attended the ceremony, the ones who have helped shape him into the person he is today.
There was Mrs. DeGrenier, his elementary school principal, who exercised endless patience for the child who was sent to her office way too many times during his kindergarten year. There was Mr. McGarry, who instilled a love of history in 8th grade, followed by Mr. Perry and Mr. Brown, who continued to spark his passion for history throughout high school. Then there was Mr. Harden, who helped every band kid, including my own, start the day with laughter, love and music.
All of these teachers, and the many others who I haven’t named, had a marked influence on my son’s educational experience. He would not be who he is without their guidance. But the one teacher whose presence at graduation was most appreciated was the beloved Ms. Vaughan.
My son entered fourth grade with a diagnosis of ADHD; he struggled with impulse issues. Though his third grade teacher was lovely, his second grade teacher was a nightmare. Her methods of discipline left him with zero self-esteem. When fourth grade teacher assignments came, I couldn’t place Ms. Vaughan. She hadn’t been at the school for as long as some of the other known entities, and I wondered and worried what my son’s last year of elementary school would be like.
Serendipity is the only way I can describe my son’s fourth grade experience. It was the perfect group of children combined with the perfect loving teacher. Yes, Ms. Vaughan taught our children English and social studies, but she taught them so much more. She taught them kindness. She taught them patience and understanding. She taught them acceptance. She taught them love.
I remember watching an exercise the kids did each morning on one of my visits to the classroom. The children all sat in a circle and each removed one shoe and tossed it into the middle. One by one a child would select a shoe, identify the owner and smile and bid them good morning. It was Ms. Vaughan’s way of making sure they connected with each other.
This was extremely important in that the kids were already starting to form into different groups: sporty, brainy, geeky. There were popular kids and kids who struggled to make friendships. Ms. Vaughan taught them to embrace each other’s differences, to appreciate that which made each of them special. Each got the chance to be “Star of the Week”, to get up and share a bit about their lives. Ms. Vaughan then had each classmate write something they liked about the Star of the Week’s presentation. At the end of the year, each student received a book that included photos of their classmates and what those classmates wrote when they were Star of the Week. My son still has that book on his bookshelf, among his Tom Clancy and Halo novels.
I hoped other Hanover students would have the same amazing experience my son had, but a short time after my son moved on to middle school, Ms. Vaughan moved to Connecticut and then, more recently, to North Carolina. Through the years she still kept tabs on our children, commenting on their achievements via our Facebook pages. As middle school turned to high school, the bond between Ms. Vaughan and her special class stayed strong.
And then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, graduation was upon us. And we parents received the greatest gift of all: confirmation Ms. Vaughan would fly in for the ceremony. One mother formed a special Facebook message group to keep everyone in the loop; another mother created T-shirts reminiscent of our children’s fourth grade memory day shirts. The kids themselves were kept in the dark, told only that they needed to arrive a half-hour early in order to video conference with Ms. Vaughan before graduation.
At the appointed hour, the kids crowded around a computer in the school’s media room. Someone dialed and then suddenly there was Ms. Vaughan onscreen, just as they remembered her, laughing and smiling as she took in all her former students, dressed in caps and gowns. Parents stood on the sidelines, wiping tears away and marveling at how special these children still were to Ms. Vaughan and to each other. After a few minutes of chatting, Ms. Vaughan asked if the kids could hold on for a moment. She left the screen and then suddenly the door to the media room opened and there she was in person. After a moment of complete astonishment, the students’ faces broke into wild smiles of joy. Everyone began talking at once, parents could no longer hold back their tears and Ms. Vaughan moved around the room, hugging her beloved former students.
Only one student was absent from the group, a boy who went on to private school and was on a trip to Peru. Not wanting anyone to miss out, the kids included him via Face Time. As the students crowded around Ms. Vaughan for a group photo, one could still see a glimpse of the fourth graders they had once been.
There are many wonderful teachers in the world, and my children have been blessed with several of them. But there will only ever be one Ms. Vaughan. She summed it up perfectly in a Facebook post: “Eight years ago, I went back into the classroom with a lively bunch of students who had a bit of a reputation for being a rowdy grade. They were super energetic, a bit naughty at times, but by far the most empathetic, kind, compassionate group of children I have ever taught. To see them eight years later, still so close, cheering each other on and graduating high school was one of my happiest teaching moments ever. I’m not worried about the future; the Class of 2019 is going to make this world an amazing place.”
It is my wish that every child have a teacher like Ms. Vaughan at least once in his or her life. I am so very grateful and thankful that mine did.