Setting the Record Straight - The First Meeting

Over the years, there have been many tellings of the early years of Debbie's and my relationship, but we have never set it down in writing (preferring to let the story develop and morph over time). So now is as good of a time as any for me to share my recollections of the first meeting with Debbie and some of our other early adventures.

In Winter and Spring, 1978, while I was working on a Ed. M. (Masters of Education) at Harvard Graduate School of Education, I worked as an intern at the Runkle School in Brookline under a marvelous principal, Helen Herzog. That internship and my graduate degree failed to result in a principal's position (I was told that I needed more experience and, in retrospect, that was an accurate assessment). However, the internship at Runkle led to a teaching opportunity at the Heath School (also in Brookline) where I would filling in for a fifth grade teach (Ms. Wolf) who was on a sabbatical. That was a tremendous year from a teaching point of view with participation in the development of the "Democratic Classroom" concept and more, but that will be the subject for another entry.

I learned later that my "description" proceeded me to Heath (for I had no reputation that could have gone forth). Apparently Debbie Clark had been told that there was this wonderful (Jewish) guy that was coming to teach at Heath and that Debbie, as a single Jewish women, should keep her eyes open.

On one of the first days at Heath, I was sitting and talking with the fourth grade teacher, Joy Saca, about (I assume, but don't really remember) teaching and backgrounds. Joy also was new. At one point, into the room popped Debbie Clark, one of the first grade teachers. Debbie was young (same age as me, but I considered myself young), very pretty (and she still is) and with a twinkling smile. I say "popped" because Debbie was overflowing with positive, friendly energy that could be felt across the room. Debbie introduced herself from afar, told me that she was my "teaching buddy" and asked if I needed any help. At the time, I was a confident young teacher with what I believed to be solid prior experience, a sense of what I wanted to accomplish, an understanding of the system, a comfort with the position and no immediate questions. As a result, I said "No, I think I am all set!" and Debbie said o.k. and walked away. Little did I know how that response came across to Debbie, but over the years, I certainly have heard (from her) that I was a little arrogant and who was I to think that I was so cool. If I had the wisdom of years and experience, I would have said "Not right now, but come on in and join us." But, I didn't say that and, although it was a mistake on my part (neither my first nor my last) somehow, it all worked out for from this first less than positive encounter, a friendship grew. Perhaps that non-interaction made me more desirable and perhaps Debbie just wanted to figure out who I was. Perhaps I came to my senses and realized that Debbie had something special to offer.

Perhaps none of these scenarios were true. Perhaps getting to know each other was just part of being young, energetic, mostly single teachers at the relatively small Heath School. We were incredibly dedicated to the education of the children, willing to share and experiment in the classroom. There was Debbie, gifted in so many ways from her incredible ability to care for and connect with each child as well as their parents, and who brought music and colors to the classroom and the school, Malcolm Astley, a cerebral teacher who those somewhat stiff knew how to challenge his students and get the best out of them, Sandi NIcolucci, the music teacher whose musical skills and creativity knew no bounds, Nancy Brennan, the young math teacher who loved to be involved with the activities at the school and served as my ride for the (good part of) the year when my car wasn't running, Joy Saca, the fourth grade teacher who co-taught with Margot Perry, an experienced teacher with much to offer, and so many more. There was a certain bubbling energy in the school that made it a special place to be.

To be continued.