Tracy

This tribute is about fifty years overdue.

Teaching was the first of my three formal professions, and in many ways my happiest and best. Among the highlights was watching the unfolding and blooming of a young girl called Tracy.

Tracy was one of those kids who sat at the back of the class, her goal to be overlooked and ignored. “Leave me alone!” was her silent, almost defiant, plea. Slightly overweight, deliberately frumpy, her voice just a whisper. It was easy enough to grant Tracy her wish, and just move on. Then, as now, class sizes were too big, and having a kid volunteer to molder in the shadows could be seen as a great offer.

But as Tracy came up in teacher team meetings, we puzzled over her. None of her siblings were academic stars, yet they all shone in different ways. An older sister was stunningly good looking, the younger brothers were sweaty little jocks who were guaranteed to press victory in any team sport. But Tracy opted to be a bump on a log.

So we purposed to draw Tracy out of the shadows. My female colleagues were more perceptive than “the others”, and little by little we found ways to let Tracy experience small successes, tiny moments of personal excellence, and times of seeing that she was as unique as anyone else in the class.

Tracy never got 100% on anything, but she steadily moved from bare passing grades into the upper quartile, regularly. In fact, she began to outperform her siblings, soon by a good margin. Her quiet defiance slowly melted and she became an eager, if quiet, participant. Frumpiness gave way to quiet radiance.

As June Awards approached, though, we had a problem. Tracy was clearly a success story, but her grades were nowhere near the top, nor would they ever be. But in our eyes she was a shining success story, a story that needed to be recognized.

So we invented a new award, “Most Improved Student”, just for Tracy. The teacher who presented it was almost in tears, and Tracy’s parents looked on in quiet awe – they were not accustomed to any of their kids going up for academic awards.

Just a month after that, Tracy ran across the busy highway where they lived and was killed instantly by a fast-moving car. I can still feel the cold horror of the news, as if losing one of my own children. I also understood that she had left us all deeply enriched for having had her in our lives.

We can never know how our choices, personal or professional, will impact a life. But they do, inevitably. I know my life is richer and better because of choices and sacrifices made by my parents, teachers, colleagues, mentors, friends, and strangers. And my life is richer because of Tracy.

Is there a Tracy in your life?