Tony the Tiger

Tony was another colorful, talented teacher I met at the King Fahad Academy in London six years ago. He was a tall, blond Brit that could've been a stunt double for Daniel Craig's 007.  To his chagrin I suppose, I publicly diagnosed him with ADHD shortly after meeting him.  Tony was eager and  earnest, sincerely motivated, and ardently ambitious - possessing an over-the-top personality that never slept, even off the amateur stage he loved so well. I would have deemed him a manic depressive, if I had ever seen anything but the frenzied zeal he offered everything, everyone.

Tony's work ethic was incredible.  His energy and passion were never far from his hands or his mouth.  The frenetic, staccato language he wielded was polished lyrically with an intelligent argot laced with a healthy measure of classic references.  Ideas exploded in his cranium - his creativity matched his metabolism, and I would have given a year's pay to map the short circuit that must have mangled his synaptic network, creating one of the truly few  unique individuals I have ever met.  I was never bored in his presence.

Unlike so many savants, Tony followed through on his plans, and those assigned to him.  He was the rarest of all pedagogues - loving equally the promise of an idea or theory, and the welfare of the children he taught and nurtured. He was an intellectual and a broke philanthropist, he was a leader and he was loyal, and he was strong and he was vulnerable.  I wasn't always sure what was going in his mind, but I trusted the process. Supervising him was a curious pleasure - I couldn't always keep up with Tony, but I had a heck of time trying. 

Tony rallied a wonderful group of ESL teachers and they created an intervention that literally saved a year of schooling for a cohort of young students who had suffered from the benign neglect of an ill fated language program. They worked hard, worked weekends, and worked a small miracle.  As is my fashion, I gave Tony but a few concrete goals, and he and his peers fleshed out the model, then artfully applied it.  I can honestly say I had never seen such a turn around in so little time.  Of all the challenges we overcame and the programs we developed across the institution, I was most proud of Tony and his team, and their loving dedication to a small group of students who no longer dreaded their alienated environment, but who now laughed and learned freely in the school they deserved.

I don't keep up with Tony as I would like.  Sometimes I worry about him, worry about the cost of  fueling that creative cauldron that warms everyone about him, hoping that he can afford the upkeep, and that he warms himself there too when the cruel winds of misfortune blow.

*Tony wrote a book, biographical in a way I suppose, that I found very fascinating.  If you care, you can find it here: http://anthonyheptinstall.blogspot.com/2010/08/foreward.html

Robin and Grant, Grant and Robin, or Maybe Rant and Gob(l)in?

I couldn't figure out who should get top billing, so I hope this dual listing will be adequate - wouldn't want to put anymore fuel on this fire. And please pardon the two portmanteaus, couldn't resist.  Seriously, I worked with Robin and Grant for two years, and I don't think I have ever worked with two finer professionals, anywhere I have been.  They should have been brother and sister though, and I enjoyed the sibling rivalry.

We worked together in what wasn't the best environment I had ever landed in;  Robin  in the same office area as  I, and Grant in the building adjacent to ours.  We spent a lot of time together, and I enjoyed every minute of it. I can honestly say I don't remember ever having a cross word with either of them, but then again, their memory might be better than mine.  We worked on dozens of projects together, often under pressure, and they always went the extra mile, even when their efforts weren't always noticed or appreciated. In a sea of facile faculty pedantically espousing student welfare, these two were beacons in the fog, the real deal.

Robin was extremely passionate about her job, her avocation.  She looked after everything and everyone with an honest zeal that sometimes got her in trouble, but never for the benefit of her own interests - she often put the department on her shoulders, whether or not it wanted to be there.  There was never a time when she did not pull her weight, when she was not on top of things, when she ever let something slip past her.  She had the complex task of working with budgets and schedules and she did a very fine job.  She took care of me as well, and I am not sure if she was my older sister or my mother, but I was doted on, nagged a bit, and cared for. I miss Robin, even miss the nurturing, but I don't think I will admit the latter.

Grant worked in a different building, but our roles overlapped constantly. Grant was my go-to guy, and I always knew he would  deliver on any task.  He was still developing professionally, and I was amazed at his energy and desire to develop his knowledge and skill set.  I not only bounced ideas off of him, we often brainstormed new plans, new programs, and he had a great deal of insight. Grant also had a very keen sense of integrity, and I could count on him to give me honest feedback, whether it was difficult or not.  Sadly, after I left, a very weak and vindictive faculty exacted partial vengeance on him, punishing him for working with me.  He weathered the storm though, as do men of faith and virtue. 

When I think back on those two years, I remember a lot of smiles and laughter.  I remember two people who never sank to the lethargy and malaise of many of their peers. When I think of the concept of responsible loyalty, I look no further than to Robin and Grant.  I would have trusted them with my life, with those of my children.  I cannot say that about many people.  I miss their good natured bickering, and I miss the microcosm we navigated together, loving each day of work with these two colleagues.