Assistant Principal - Pastoral Care
Farewell Year 12
As our Year 12 students’ time at the College comes to a conclusion, perhaps parents and guardians are reflecting on what has been and how the young person has grown to be who they are. In light of this, it is interesting to consider Abraham Lincoln’s letter to his son’s teacher back in the mid-1800s. His letter I imagine represents the desires of most parents and guardians who entrust their children to 13 years of schooling. I love how at the heart of his letter is a concern for values and a way of approaching life more than an obsession with technical skills or specific knowledge.
“My son starts school today. It is all going to be strange and new to him for a while and I wish you would treat him gently. It is an adventure that might take him across continents. All adventures that probably include wars, tragedy and sorrow. To live this life will require faith, love and courage.
So dear Teacher, will you please take him by his hand and teach him things he will have to know, teaching him – but gently, if you can. He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just, all men are not true, but teach him also that for every scoundrel there is a hero; that for every selfish politician, there is a dedicated leader... Teach him that for every enemy there is a friend. It will take time, I know, but teach him, if you can, that a dollar earned is of far more value than five found...Teach him to learn to lose...and also to enjoy winning. Steer him away from envy, if you can, teach him the secret of quiet laughter. Let him learn early that bullies are the easiest to lick...Teach him, if you can, the wonder of a book...but also give him quiet time to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun, and flowers on a green hillside. In school, teach him it is far more honourable to fail than to cheat...Teach him to have faith in his own ideas, even if everyone tells him they are wrong...Teach him to be gentle with gentle people, and tough with the tough. Try to give my son the strength not to follow the crowd when everyone is getting on the bandwagon...Teach him to listen to all men...but teach him also to filter all he hears on a screen of truth, and take only the good that comes through. Teach him, if you can, how to laugh when he is sad...Teach him there is no shame in tears. Teach him to scoff at cynics and to beware of too much sweetness...Teach him to sell his brawn and brain to the highest bidders, but never to put a price tag on his heart and soul. Teach him to close his ears to a howling mob...and to stand and fight if he thinks he is right. Treat him gently, but do not coddle him, because only the test of fire makes fine steel. Let him have the courage to be impatient...let him have the patience to be brave. Teach him always to have sublime faith in himself, because then he will always have sublime faith in mankind. This is a big order, but see what you can do...He is such a fine little fellow, my son”.
If as a school we have achieved much of what Lincoln hoped for, then we could be proud of our work. When reflecting on his college students, David Brooks, an American columnist and writer for the New York Times noted:
“That early neuroscience breakthrough reminded us that a key job of a school is to give students new things to love — an exciting field of study, new friends. It reminded us that what teachers really teach is themselves — their contagious passion for their subjects and students. It reminded us that children learn from people they love, and that love in this context means willing the good of another, and offering active care for the whole person.”
This perhaps explains why it will be difficult to replace teachers with computers and online programs because at the heart of learning are people and relationships - this makes education such a complex and highly contested area of life. It’s not like building a bridge or a high rise building - these are engineering challenges that are complicated but have solutions. No one solution fits human beings. What one young person may love, another may loathe.
As our young people leave school, with hopefully a clear set of values that will enable them to live a meaningful life, I also hope that their education has given them strong aspirations for the future. At the end of Season 3 of my favourite series, Friday Night Lights, a students who had only come to value learning in her last few years of school writes:
“Two years ago, I was afraid of wanting anything. I figured wanting would lead to trying and trying would lead to failure. But now I find I can’t stop wanting. I want to fly somewhere in first class. I want to travel to Europe on a business trip. I want to get invited to the White House. I want to learn about the world. I want to surprise myself. I want to be important. I want to be the best person I can be. I want to define myself instead of having others define me. I want to win and have people be happy for me. I want to lose and get over it. I want to not be afraid of the unknown. I want to grow up and be generous and big hearted, the way people have been with me. I want an interesting and surprising life. It’s not that I think I’m going to get all these things, I just want the possibility of getting them. College represents possibility. The possibility that things are going to change. I can’t wait.”
I hope that as our Year 12 students leave school for the final time that they are filled with similar dreams and aspirations. That they are prepared to face the demands of a world that is beset by unprecedented challenges. That they understand if they live a life that is full of compassion and one that seeks to help others, one that is inspired by the life of Jesus, then they will find that the insight from the Athenian leader and general, Pericles, continues to ring just as true today as it did 2,500 years ago:
“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”
Mick Larkin
Assistant Principal - Pastoral Care