It is a Small World, After All

Do you remember what you were doing in the summer of 1993? I don't can't tell you a lot of specifics from that summer but what I do know is that I learned to water ski. In Vermont. On a pond. Let me back up a little.

In the fall of 1992, I was a first-year student at the College of the Holy Cross. This was pre-cell phone, pre-internet, and pre-voicemail. Yes, it must seem like the stone age for the digital natives. Our evenings consisted of studying (at least a little), watching Letterman or Leno, and playing cards. That year I learned how to play pitch, from a sophomore on my hall. Since we played almost every night, we got to be friends.

As the spring semester was ending, he invited a bunch of us to his cabin in Vermont for a long weekend. Again, this was pre-internet, so we actually wrote down the directions. I grew up in Mt. Vernon, NY, a little north of New York City, so several of us carpooled up together.

It was a great weekend - I learned how to water ski. Having never done it before, it took me more than a few tries, but I got it. By the end of the weekend, I was dropping one ski once I got going. I remember thinking this was such a beautiful place in Vermont, and when we left, I didn't think I would ever see it again.

Fast forward to the early 2000s. I am on Peacham Pond with my then-girlfriend, now-wife's family. My Wife's family has had a camp on Peacham Pond since 1987. We were playing pitch at her kitchen table, and the conversation was about the other families that had camps on the pond. In passing, I heard the last name Davignon mentioned, and while it didn't register with me at first, I paused for a moment.

"Did you say 'Davignon'?" I asked. Yes, was the response I got.

"Did that family have any children?" Again, the answer was yes.

"Did any of their kids go to Holy Cross?" Maybe, was the response this time.

"I went to school with a Kris Davignon..." and I trailed off remembering what I had done in the summer of 1993. Someone in the room said, "I do think Kris was one of their sons."

I got really excited as I retold the story of how I learned to water ski. In Vermont. On a pond.

When we build relationships with others, we have no idea where those relationships will take us. I've not spoken to Kris Davignon since he graduated in 1995.  Yet in 1999, I met a woman from Vermont teaching next door to me in a volunteer program in Chicago. On October 8, 2000, I went out on the last first date of my life.

In education, we build relationships with our students, their families, and our colleagues. Those relationships are dotted with moments, most of which we are very proud of. We make mistakes, we correct them, we move on, and we hope to not repeat the same mistakes. The big difference in education is that our students must come to school, and we cannot begin to tap into each student's full potential unless they feel safe, welcome, and included. 

We don't know where those relationships will lead, or when we will see our students again after they leave us. Every year teachers say goodbye to one class in June, and welcome another class back in August. We hope that we make an indelible mark on their hearts so that they can open their minds to learn together with us.

In 1993, I learned how to water ski. In Vermont. On Peacham Pond. And little did I know, my future wife probably saw me.

It is a small world, after all.

Our oldest son Patrick Sup Boarding on Peacham Pond, Labor Day 2019

Our youngest son Brendan jumping into Peacham Pond, Labor Day 2019