The Lessons from Groundhog Day
“It is true that we cannot make a genius. We can only give a child the chance to fulfill his or her potential possibilities”
Today is Groundhog Day. Most of us remember it for the 1993 comedic movie of the same name. And yes, there are folks who belong to various private clubs, orders, and lodges centered around the folklore of winter prognostications by the furry rodent. Today is a big day for them.
I have a different reason for remembering Groundhog Day. The story that follows is my personal reflection on my brother Jimmy and the teacher who taught him to read.
Along with the frivolity of groundhog folklore, February 2nd was my oldest brother’s birthday. It is the memory of his story that has come to inform my life, work, and my continued reminiscence of the day.
Jimmy came into the world on February 2, 1944 with his own unique set of challenges and circumstances. His disorders likely spawned from birth trauma, affected his intellectual and physical development; conditions he lived with growing up and lasting into his adult years. In school, learning was hard. As an adult, work was hard as were relationships and many day-to-day endeavors. He never had a driver’s license but his mobility was not deterred thanks to a network of busses and trains; the schedules of which he mastered. The drivers and conductors became his personal friends.
Life with Jimmy wasn’t always easy. He battled emotional and mood swings that would send him into dark places for days; only to emerge, surrounded by love and family, as if nothing happened. As his siblings, we learned patience but that wasn’t always easy. He would get ideas in his head about places he wanted to go and people he wanted to see and off he would go. Only to get into trouble - running out of money, losing his bus ticket, or getting delayed and missing connections. He had difficulty problem solving when things didn’t go according to his plan but he knew how to make a collect call home.
In spite of his challenges, Jimmy compensated for his diminished reasoning skills and analytical processing with a contagious sense of humor and love of people; particularly children. His favorite moments were family gatherings where his many nieces and nephews were present. He loved life. Even though at times it was hard, he found his own way to give back. He would help anyone in need - strangers on the street, old friends; at times, even to his own detriment as he gave away his last dollars designed to last well beyond the day. He kept in touch with people over the years. He would write letters to them - long, detailed transcripts of his daily and weekly experiences. They would be met by gracious returns by people who understood and appreciated his unique place in the world.
In November 2000, Jimmy died after a short but relatively painless illness. In his final days, he was surrounded by people from all walks and stages of his life. One of the most compelling moments at his memorial service was when an elderly and frail Ms. Kraybill, his elementary school teacher, rose to tell the story of her teaching Jimmy to read and write. “It was a struggle, she said, “he didn’t think he could do it. Others had tried to teach him and had given up on him but I knew he could do it.” She recalled with great fondness and joy the day “Jimmy could read!” It was her persistence, patience, dedication, and compassion that made the difference. Of all the lives she touched in her long, teaching career, the day she taught my brother to read was still recalled as a cause for celebration many years later.
Groundhog Day continues to remind me of my brother. It’s a reminder to me of the fact that we all come into this world with our own unique gifts. It reminds me that our notion of success should not be standardized but rather defined for us all in our own unique way. It reminds me that all people are worthy of our love and respect; based not on their merits but simply on their humanity. The late Henri Nouwen, in his life as a writer, teacher, and spiritual leader, reminds us that our human worth comes not from what we accomplish or what others say about us. It comes from “the simple fact that we are loved”.
Groundhog Day reminds me that, as an educator, I have much to learn from the Ms. Kraybills of the world who found joy and celebration in the simplest, yet noblest of achievements with our students. It reminds me to never forget that all students can learn in their own unique way and that all children must be “given a chance to fulfill their potential possibilities.” It reminds me that the fruit of our labor doesn’t always yield immediate results, yet in time, our world is made a better place because of what we do.
Groundhog Day remains an important day to me. In it, I find renewed hope in the work we as educators do. Each year on this day, I take a few moments to reflect on and renew my commitment to celebrate the essential goodness that lies within us all. I welcome you to join me in that celebration today. Happy Groundhog Day!