Still, I can almost smell the movie popcorn, drenched in that fake, goopy, non-butter butter. That day in 1983 when my dad took my brother and me to see Return of the Jedi in the movie theater. For a long time, I still had the stub from the ticket. Remember when there were actual tickets to gain entry to events?
The drumbeat. The blare of the trumpets. The 20th Century Fox Fanfare. Then a pause... Then, the words Star Wars, followed by the crawl that brought you up to speed as to the details of the movie you were about to see. It was thrilling.
Within that movie's first two minutes, we meet Darth Vader. First, we only see boots, and as the camera pans up, clad in all black, we fully take in one of the villains of this movie. Before we even hear his voice, the sound of the breathing apparatus fills the silent void. But then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You may dispense with the pleasantries, Commander. I am here to put you back on schedule," boomed from the helmeted figure. Voiced, of course, by the late James Earl Jones.
Mr. Jones was in so many movies that I loved. Of course, the original Star Wars trilogy. I once proudly owned all three (Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi) as a boxed set of VHS tapes. Many a college evening was spent crowded in a dorm room, rewatching them while surrounded by friends. I also loved The Sandlot, The Lion King, any of the Thomas Clancy books-turned movies, The Hunt for Red October, Clear and Present Danger, and Patriot Games. Who could forget his role in Field of Dreams? Mr. Jones was clearly a gifted and talented actor both on stage and in front of a camera.
In reading about his life recently, I came across a few things about him I never knew: Mr. Jones was abandoned by his parents when he was quite young and sent to live with, and these are his words, "a very racist grandmother." The rejection by his mother and father and the reality of his grandmother's racism resulted in substantial emotional distress for Mr. Jones, which led him, as a child, to stammer and then ultimately to stutter. By the age of 8, he stopped talking altogether, passing notes in school to communicate.
It wasn't until high school that a teacher, Donald Crouch, made a connection with Mr. Jones. Mr. Crouch recognized that Mr. Jones had a talent for poetry and encouraged him to write. Then, with Mr. Crouch's encouragement, Mr. Jones stood before his class and tentatively read some of the lines he wrote. Eventually, Mr. Jones grew to recite poetry daily, joined the debate team, and no longer stuttered. While the effects of this disability never entirely went away, Mr. Jones credits learning to control his stutter leading to his career as an actor:
"In a very personal way, once I found out I could communicate verbally again, it became a very important thing for me, like making up for lost time, making up for the years that I didn't speak."
All because of a teacher who made a connection, who saw something in Mr. Jones, and together, they discovered what was inside a child who did not speak.
I wrote about the magic of teaching in this blog just a few weeks ago. This is what I'm talking about. As we reflect on the teachers in our own lives who made this kind of difference, I'm certain that we can all name them—not because of what they taught but because of how they made us feel.
For me, one of those teachers was Professor Robert Garvey, now retired from the College of the Holy Cross. In the fall of 1992, he convinced a very homesick and very overwhelmed first-year student that he could indeed do the work that was expected of him. To this day, I remember the words he spoke to me: "In my experience, the admission officers here rarely, if ever, make mistakes in terms of students' abilities to do the work." At the time, I wasn't believing in myself. But those words made a difference and inspired me, and because of that, Holy Cross remains one of my absolute favorite places in all the world. On Mt. St. James, I made lifelong friends, grew passionate about issues of social justice, and made a decision that led me to meet My Wife when I chose to volunteer after graduation.
All because of a teacher who made a connection, who saw something in me.
Who will that teacher be for the more than 2400 students that come through our doors daily? I cannot say for certain. I do know that when I walk the hallways of our buildings, and when I visit the classrooms and the spaces where teaching and learning happens in East Greenwich Public Schools, I see this magic happening.
All because of teachers who make connections, who see something in their students.
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