Planting Seeds of Wisdom
Many of us use figurative language and metaphors to describe life experiences. As a young person, when imagining my future or ruminating on the purpose of life, my mother would often encourage me to “till the garden.” A former colleague often challenged incoming students with “High school is not a spectator sport. Get in the game.” One of the great lines from the Stoics was “not to expect figs in winter.” By combining two unrelated elements, these figures of speech allow us to see things from different angles and in a new light.
Seasons can be powerful metaphors. The notion that life follows a natural cycle —mirroring our ups and downs, joys and sorrows, trials and tribulations—encourages us to embrace growth opportunities just as each season makes way for the next. The great American author and educator Parker Palmer writes, “Winter is a demanding season…few creatures stir, plants do not visibly grow, and nature feels like our enemy. And yet the rigors of winter, like the diminishments of autumn, are accompanied by amazing gifts. One gift is the reminder that times of dormancy and deep rest are essential to all living things. Nature is not dead in winter—it has gone underground to renew itself and prepare for spring.”
When I first became a teacher (and perhaps still today), I believed that the greatest impact on boys was possible when they were very young. One of my fondest memories of teaching kindergarten was sitting with students to read children’s stories. My favourite book of all time is Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are. It’s the story of a little boy named Max who puts on a wolf costume and prowls around his house, creating havoc until his mother sends him to his room without dinner. There, he retreats into his imagination and sails off on a voyage to where the wild things are. And while these beasts appear quite scary, (spoiler alert) young Max tames them, and they make him their king. They all have fun being wild together until he grows tired and hungry, leading him to journey home and find supper waiting for him in his room.
Sendak’s classic tale imprinted on me a particular commitment to the education of boys, many of whom are mistakenly viewed as “wild” and “untameable” and in need of being sent to their room or the principal’s office. Indeed, the world is not often friendly to educating and rearing boys. And yet, their distinctive humanity requires the type of care and love that boys’ schools are best poised to deliver as their core job. Educating boys may be challenging and uncertain at times. Still, the journey as they acquire character skills such as courage, adaptability, and self-awareness (similar to Max’s) is worth the effort.
This year’s mild winter may challenge our usual associations with this season. Yet the metaphor holds true for ourselves and those we serve. After all, “Winter clears the landscape, however brutally, giving us a chance to see ourselves and each other more clearly, to see the very ground of our being.” Who am I? How do I lead? What is my legacy? Just like winter, and for those uniquely poised to build deep and lasting relationships with boys, the answer to these questions may be found in Palmer’s advice: “The winters will drive you crazy until you learn to get out into them.”
