The Tree Syndrome

After school one day in 1990, Helen Graf, cherished colleague and English teacher par excellence, entered my room in tears. Our brand new principal had just evaluated her for the first time. With clipboard in hand, he’d check-listed her according to the latest administrator in-service criteria. 

Now, Helen was among those ultra-conscientious, self-motivated, unsung heroes in every profession who can always be counted upon to give their all.  She had. The lesson was creative, perfectly planned, and well executed. The kids were engaged and eager to demonstrate what they had just learned. Light bulbs blazed above each kid’s head.  Did the new principal recognize Helen’s gifted-teacher status? Not a chance.  He cited her for a “T” syndrome violation. 

She had addressed the class primarily from across the front of the room and down the center aisle, hence the “T.”  Helen was stunned and reduced to tears of frustration.  I tried to cheer her up on the spot, but the best I could do at the time was commiserate.  Later that night I wrote the following poem and made sure it was waiting in her mailbox before her first class the next day.  Made her smile—me, too.

Twenty years later my friend, Laurie Rogers, author of Betrayed: How the Education Establishment has Betrayed America and What You Can Do about it liked the poem so much, she included it in her book.  What goes around comes around.  I’ve lost track of Helen. I heard she moved to North Carolina. Hope she’s still teaching.  Every kid needs a Helen Graf for English.

FAS

The Tree Syndrome

Firmly rooted in fertile

Research, the sapling

Sends no buds aloft.

Its destiny lies in the

Stunted undergrowth;

Its only acquaintances—

Scrub of similar stature.

Pity the life not knowing

The forest of towering oaks

To which it ought to aspire.