A Glorious Ride
By Allen A. Raymond, Publisher

The downer years for me were when I was very young. Not yet in school, I would cry uncontrollably when, for instance, my parents, who might be out for dinner, or off playing golf or canoeing on Long Island Sound, did not arrive home when I thought they should. I couldn't help myself. Fear caused me to dissolve in tears.

I can also remember the Sunday afternoon – I must have been only five or six – when a policeman gave a ticket to my Dad, who had just driven through a red light as he took my mother and me on one of our traditional Sunday afternoon drives. Although the policeman was polite and talked softly, I stood on the back seat of the car, fearing the worst and crying up a storm.

Fortunately for my parents, I began to grow up and fear, for me, took a new direction. It was the middle of the Depression in the early 30s, and I feared my father would lose his job.

One day he took the train to New York City (we lived in Buffalo) to discuss the future with his boss. Our whole family felt the strain and I was paralyzed with fear.

The department my father managed was not a profit center – it was just one of many operating departments of a major corporation headquartered in Manhattan. The department was scheduled to be closed and this was, as you might say, "Custer's Last Stand." If the department closed, my dad lost his job.

You and I think our dads are the greatest, of course, so it's not surprising that I knew my dad would save his department, and his job. He had a lot of determination, plus a heavy supply of "adrenaline rush," and the combination is probably what helped him pull it off.

"Adrenaline rush." That must have been the ingredient driving the man who jumped in front of a New York subway train to save a man who had fallen to the tracks.

He had no time to think, no time to ask himself, "Should I do this? What are my chances of success?"

He just jumped.

If I were in a classroom today, I'd want to talk with the children about that man and others like him who achieve greatness as they ignore fear.

Having the courage and skills to deal with life is a lot like skiing. It takes skill, it's sometimes beautiful, it's always exciting, there are times when it's dangerous and other moments when fear takes over and it's downright scary.

I remember standing with one of our sons at the top of Vermont's Mad River Glen ski area for the first time. As I looked at the almost-vertical trail down which we would have to ski, I said to him, "I'm scared."

"Me, too," he replied, and I gave him a hug. It was a repeat of the way my dad and I connected when, in the 30s, we feared he'd be fired, and rejoiced when he wasn't.

It's how one feels when reaching the bottom of the mountain at Mad River Glen. "I'm glad I did that. It was a glorious ride."

At the end of the year, if both you and the kids leave your class less fearful and more confident, you'll know it's been a good year, not only for the kids, but for you, too.

Allen Raymond is the Editor/Publisher for Teaching Pre K-8.

April, 2007, Vol.37, No.7