Reading and re-reading the notes and blogs that I wrote before to find inspiration in this last one that I write in my position, I can’t help but think of why I came to Proctor in the first place. It’s the people of Proctor, or Proctor People, that fuel this work. Certainly, it’s the work that we do with students everyday, but in looking at what happens in the trenches, it’s the folks who have worked tirelessly with each other, side-by-side, and for many, a lifetime of being connected and corded, rooted to this place in Andover, New Hampshire.
Listen to Brian read his final blog post!
In my very first blog to you all, “The Road to Andover,” I told a story about taking a break with Kurt Meier and the people who work with him. One young man in particular, who is still here, spoke about the love of his work in the hockey rink and, by virtue, the love of the people with whom he worked. Now, that’s a word you don’t hear thrown around very much when it comes to work, which is that other four-letter word, LOVE. Indeed, we labor in a place that is more than just a place or idea, it’s rooted in the idea of “Agape” from the Greek, or “the kind of love and action that shows empathy; extends the desire for good of the beloved; wants the best; extends help or demonstrates good intentions; and is intended for everyone” (From The Boone Center at Pepperdine University).
How this has worked over these last four years can be seen from drop off in the opening days of school at Proctor to graduation to alumni gatherings to Board Meetings on the Carr Field during a baseball game to Ocean Classroom in the middle of the Atlantic to people are trying hard to understand themselves in the context of “the thing” they are performing or doing; whether it is Rock Climbing at the Cut, or doing a podcast for history on conspiracy theories, all who live, work, or go here are trying to extend a deeper understanding of ourselves, wanting the best for each other, and extending help to demonstrate our good intentions, not just for ourselves but for everyone. Sure, Proctor is a non-sectarian school, but at times it feels like one of the best values-based educational institutions without the orthodoxy and someone always telling you what to do and how to be. It’s more like, “Hey, you figure it out,” and if you can’t, “ I am here to assist you but not tell you what or how to do something.” I have seen this demonstrated on European Art Classroom where a young painter gets to paint beside professionals, looking at the world brushstroke by brushstroke, and in the Dining Commons when someone inadvertently breaks a glass and some other student or students comes over to help the poor kid or adult clean it up. We show our love for the Beloved (the “other” in this community) by being there with them, side-by-side, literally standing in a place of true compassion, empathy, and respect that if we were in the other’s shoes, someone would do the same for us.
Yet, as I write this, I do feel a sense of nostalgia, or a deep sense of all that I will miss about Proctor. After all, three years is the shortest of short time for a Head of any school. Or, is it? I believe that our own mission and purpose is to extend it to and with other people who might not have the advantages that we have had, which is what Nick Carraway’s father told him and conveys to us in the opening pages of The Great Gatsby. We are here to work hard on ourselves and to enter into a world that must be better for having us in it. That is why I am compelled to leave this place that I so deeply love to find the promise of what I was given even before I entered formal school.
What am I referencing? Well, when I was a sophomore in college, we were often honored with some distinguished guest or other. Someone who had connections to the school and others who had not. I met Mike Bilandic, the former Mayor of Chicago, my hometown, and Richard Dreyfuss who was performing at Long Wharf Theater in some play headed to Broadway, and even the Beat Poet Allen Ginsberg who was on his best behavior. But the person who I met that made the most lasting impression on me was R. Sargent Shriver who was with his wife, Eunice Kennedy Shriver. Why were they so impressive? Why did they make the biggest impact on me? Many of you might know that Mrs. Shriver founded the Special Olympics. Certainly, growing up with an accomplished family and having a sister with cognitive disabilities impacted her profoundly. I was definitely in awe. But Sarge made the biggest impression on me because one of the Lyndon Johnson-era anti-poverty programs he founded directly benefited me. It was Head Start, the program that took kids like me from inner cities of Chicago, Illinois or one of its most under-resourced outskirt towns, Robbins, Illinois, and gave us a Head Start, which was pre-school before first grade. Nothing like it had been attempted in the United States. I was in one of the initial and lucky cohorts of the most successful anti-poverty programs started by the man I got to thank in person. And, I did. I don’t really remember what I said to Sargent Shriver, and I don’t remember what he said back to me, but I did say something like, “Without Head Start, I would not be at Yale University talking to you right now.” To that end, I devote the rest of my days searching and wanting to do the same.
Why do I tell you all this in my leaving? It’s because there is something that is calling me and compelling me to row towards the shore of deep, deep impact. One of our students asked a colleague in their advisory where I wasn’t present, “Well, aren’t WE (students here at Proctor) that, too?!!” Meaning, worthy of deep impact. The answer to that student and all of you is, of course. Of course, we all are in need of that level of commitment from the people in our lives who have stood beside us as mentors and friends. Yet, the call for me is to put myself in a position to make a lasting impact broadly, hopefully in the lives of even more children and families and colleagues and society in general.
And, perhaps another school will call me, too. But I will be reading, writing, and consulting nearby in Manchester, New Hampshire. I won’t be far away. Please understand I will be giving Steve and the new Head the grace and space not to have me about here so that it can feel like theirs – or theirs again.
I am awed and humbled by the opportunity to help create and sustain Beloved Community over these last three years at Proctor. The Board has been appreciative and supportive of the work that my team and I have accomplished. For that, I am forever grateful. At this juncture, as we look towards new horizons, let’s make sure that we make AGAPE our aim. May it always be so.
Brian W. Thomas, Proctor Academy Head of School
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