fatwood fires. It is doubly beautiful for the danger and the struggle, like a beloved
friend for whose life one battles, drinking in the well known features that may be taken
away forever. The fires make a geometric pattern, spaced as regularly as the squares
of trees. The pine burns with a bright orange flame and the effect is countless bivouac
fires across a low-wooded plain. The sky is sapphire blue, spangled with stars. The
smoke lifts from the fires grey-white, melting into gray-blue, drifting like the veils of a
dancer under the open skies. Each orange tree is outlined with light. The green leaves
shine like jade. The round oranges are lit with a secret inner candle. My heart bursts
with the loveliness of the grove and of the night. If only, I think, I could watch such
beauty unencumbered by my fears, and that all good things do not come too easily and
must be perpetually fought for. Our test is in our recognition of our love and our
willingness to do battle for it.
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1896-1953)
Cross Creek
While recently reading Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings’ Cross Creek, the above quote
impressed me with how aptly it describes my experience as Gaston Day head of school.
One of our greatest writers, Rawlings as an adult moved from Washington, D.C., to a
remote part of Florida where she immersed herself in rural life and bought an orange
grove to support herself. The image above depicts the fight to save the orange grove
during an unusually severe cold spell in Florida. Rawlings and her grove workers built
and tended fires all night long to warm the orange trees and save the fruit from freezing.
What struck me most about her description was the creative tension between the beauty
of the firelit orange grove, the danger of the destructive freeze, and the battle to protect
the fruit. In particular, the last two lines of the passage seemed to be an especially
accurate summary of what it means to be an independent school leader.
If only, I think, I could watch such beauty unencumbered by my fears, and that all
good things do not come too easily and must be perpetually fought for. Our test is in
our recognition of our love and our willingness to do battle for it.
I might have forgotten about the Rawlings’ quote if it had not snowed this week. For me,
nothing more than snow highlights the tension between beauty, concern, responsibility,
and the safety of our school. The snow is beautiful, and I want so badly to enjoy it. But I
must concern myself with whether or not to close school, and all the tasks associated
with re-opening school. At times the responsibility is truly burdensome. On the one
hand, safety is paramount. On the other hand, every day that school is closed is learning
time lost. Are sidewalks cleared and salted? Has the power been knocked out? Are the
servers down? Are there any leaks from ice dams on the roof? (Just as there was this
time in Mrs. Harbin’s Kindergarten Room. Is there anything more hideous or messier
than sodden, broken ceiling tiles littering a classroom?) How can I appreciate the beauty
of the snow and the joy our students must be experiencing on their weather holiday
when I must keep them safe and prepare to re-open school?
If only, I think, I could watch such beauty unencumbered by my fears, and that all
good things do not come too easily and must be perpetually fought for. Our test is in
our recognition of our love and our willingness to do battle for it.
The anxiety and responsibility of snow days are really just a particularly intense version
of what it means to be a leader or a teacher in an independent school. Every day we
juggle so many concerns about student safety, vital learning, middle school social
drama, college acceptances and a thousand other responsibilities and challenges. Why
do we do it?
Our test is in our recognition of our love and our willingness to do battle for it.
The beauty of our students surrounds us. Sometimes when they recite a poem, paint a
watercolor, ace an exam, or give a stirring speech, they almost blind us with the
splendor of their accomplishments!
I know what Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings felt when she beheld her endangered orange
grove, beautifully ablaze with the fires that she hoped would save it. It is the creative
tension between beauty, care and responsibility. It is why we commit ourselves to the
things we love. It is why we are independent school educators.
impressed me with how aptly it describes my experience as Gaston Day head of school.
One of our greatest writers, Rawlings as an adult moved from Washington, D.C., to a
remote part of Florida where she immersed herself in rural life and bought an orange
grove to support herself. The image above depicts the fight to save the orange grove
during an unusually severe cold spell in Florida. Rawlings and her grove workers built
and tended fires all night long to warm the orange trees and save the fruit from freezing.
What struck me most about her description was the creative tension between the beauty
of the firelit orange grove, the danger of the destructive freeze, and the battle to protect
the fruit. In particular, the last two lines of the passage seemed to be an especially
accurate summary of what it means to be an independent school leader.
If only, I think, I could watch such beauty unencumbered by my fears, and that all
good things do not come too easily and must be perpetually fought for. Our test is in
our recognition of our love and our willingness to do battle for it.
I might have forgotten about the Rawlings’ quote if it had not snowed this week. For me,
nothing more than snow highlights the tension between beauty, concern, responsibility,
and the safety of our school. The snow is beautiful, and I want so badly to enjoy it. But I
must concern myself with whether or not to close school, and all the tasks associated
with re-opening school. At times the responsibility is truly burdensome. On the one
hand, safety is paramount. On the other hand, every day that school is closed is learning
time lost. Are sidewalks cleared and salted? Has the power been knocked out? Are the
servers down? Are there any leaks from ice dams on the roof? (Just as there was this
time in Mrs. Harbin’s Kindergarten Room. Is there anything more hideous or messier
than sodden, broken ceiling tiles littering a classroom?) How can I appreciate the beauty
of the snow and the joy our students must be experiencing on their weather holiday
when I must keep them safe and prepare to re-open school?
If only, I think, I could watch such beauty unencumbered by my fears, and that all
good things do not come too easily and must be perpetually fought for. Our test is in
our recognition of our love and our willingness to do battle for it.
The anxiety and responsibility of snow days are really just a particularly intense version
of what it means to be a leader or a teacher in an independent school. Every day we
juggle so many concerns about student safety, vital learning, middle school social
drama, college acceptances and a thousand other responsibilities and challenges. Why
do we do it?
Our test is in our recognition of our love and our willingness to do battle for it.
The beauty of our students surrounds us. Sometimes when they recite a poem, paint a
watercolor, ace an exam, or give a stirring speech, they almost blind us with the
splendor of their accomplishments!
I know what Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings felt when she beheld her endangered orange
grove, beautifully ablaze with the fires that she hoped would save it. It is the creative
tension between beauty, care and responsibility. It is why we commit ourselves to the
things we love. It is why we are independent school educators.
