My last blog explored why teachers continue to teach despite the challenges and frustrations that too often confront them. A recent loss reminded me of the answer to “why teach?”.

I grew up in part of a New York suburb with a K-8 grade school, Quaker Ridge, though the rest of the community had elementary schools and a shared junior high. I didn’t realize until much later in life how special that experience was, how tight the bonds we formed had been. When I went back to my high school’s 50th reunion, we also held a Quaker Ridge reunion, the highlight of the reunion weekend for me. I loved reconnecting with childhood friends, but some of the magic happened because a teacher beloved by all of us joined us. Nat Sloan was our seventh and eighth grade science teacher, and his passion for both us and for his subject mattered to all of us.

Nat had a particular impact on me because he required us to choose a book from his amply stocked bookshelf, read it, and report back to the class. In seventh grade I chose Patterns of Culture by Ruth Benedict. A well-respected anthropologist, Benedict explained her belief in cultural relativism, which emphasizes understanding behaviors within their cultural contexts rather than through the lens of one’s own cultural biases. She then went on to demonstrate her approach through an in-depth examination of three disparate cultures. Spellbound, I recognized that going steady and girls’ wearing a boys’ ID bracelet were patterns from my culture, not universal patterns. She opened my eyes to a world wider than I’d considered and drove my desire to travel to other cultures and to study anthropology in college.

Nat gave me a different lens to explore the world, and that mattered. It’s no surprise that he was one of two teachers we invited to our wedding. His presence, along with Garnet Almes, an amazing math teacher, mattered. They were the two teachers who did the most to shape my own commitment to teaching, and I was honored to stay connected with both of them. We visited Ms. Almes in Florida before she died, and I maintained email correspondence with Nat after the reunion. He had become a sculptor and we are glass artists, so we had a lot to write about and pictures to share!            

So what does this self-indulgent trip down memory lane have to do with why we teach? My classmate, who is now the mayor of our hometown, emailed us when Nat died last month after reaching 100. The outpouring of love and memories from all of us created a beautiful tribute to the man and his impact on his students. And we were only one class out of many years of classes, no doubt similarly affected by him.

Nat Sloan mattered. Good teaching matters. He and other really impactful teachers live on in the memories of the students they taught. How could anyone ask for a richer life than that?