Cast Down Your Bucket

Note: Today's blog post may really qualify as rambling. Stick with me to the end, and I promise I'll tie it together.

I had a different idea for today's blog, but after a series of events yesterday afternoon, I changed my mind. I was riding to Greenville with my daughter, Rylee. We were talking about her day and school and she asked me why February was Teen Dating Violence Awareness Month and not Black History Month. Our discussion merged into what she thought they should talk about and it brought me back to teaching African American history. I always had half of my class read W.E.B. DuBois' autobiography, The Souls of Black Folk, and the other half read Booker T. Washington's autobiography, Up From Slavery. We used the competing narratives to debate African American progress then and now. By the end, it was always my hope that they could take pieces from both and see how society can change and do better, no matter your race. One element that I always appreciated was Washington's idea to "cast down your bucket where you are." Washington was determined that any person or group should make the best of the situation that they are in and work hard to improve rather than rely on others to improve conditions for them.

At this point, Rylee and I had arrived at Cracker Barrel to get dinner for our accreditation team. We paid for the food and waited patiently. The man behind me was also paying for a to-go order. When given the amount, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills and change. Without explanation or request, he just laid the handful of money on the counter. The young lady serving him proceeded to count out his money, taking what was needed and slid the rest back toward him. Maybe it was the long day I had or the conversation with my daughter, but watching this was eating me alive. I tried to analyze it. Maybe he couldn't count the money. Then I remembered seeing him in the parking lot. He drove there. Certainly, if he can drive a car, he can count change. I rationed out every other reason in my head and settled on the fact that he was simply content to let her do it for him. I had to ask her if that was normal. She said that sometimes elderly people ask for help, but that his behavior certainly was strange.

I get that as educators, while our goal is to help all children, we probably will not save them all. Not everyone will graduate, every year. Not everyone will be proficient, every year. Not even everyone will pass every class. We aim for that, but we also know that human nature is often unpredictable and adds an element that reaches far beyond the classroom.  But maybe we can try to teach students to work hard where they are. If they are an AP student, then they can work hard to get into that top school. If they are a struggling student then they can work hard to get through and have the accomplishment of knowing that they made it and can keep moving forward. Either way, if we can teach them to cast down their bucket where they are, then maybe we create a culture, not set on attainment of six-figure jobs and multiple college degrees, but with an understanding of hard work and progress. If that happens, then we have really educated them.