Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Take that—Mr. Wolfe!

I must confess—I have never read Thomas Wolfe’s novel, You Can’t Go Home Again, but the power of that title bangs around my head once in awhile. I mean, for many of us, the title of that tome acts as an urgent cautionary tale.

On one hand—if you have gleaned only a few things about me from reading this blog, you know there is nothing I like more than getting together with old friends. An email or a blog comment from an Enszer is like winning the lottery; lunch with Kate is like sun shining through a gray sky; meeting up with Will (courtesy of the miracle of facebook!) last week after 10 years of missing each other, simply serendipitous.

But that Thomas Wolfe proverb stands tall and rather fierce when the outcome is not so certain, doesn’t it? It is one thing to hear from, or re-connect with, some of the greatest people you know. It is quite another to try and re-create moments from your past, or encounter people who had made life nasty, uncomfortable, or treacherous.

Even without reading the Wolfe novel, I have gleaned that it is about a man who leaves his small town, writes a book that stirs enmity in his hometown, and learns he better not go back to his original environs. I think—again, without the benefit of actually having read the book!—that the message of this writer’s life is that he cannot go home again because nothing ever stays the same. (I know, I should actually read the book before I start peddling what the book portends to represent! But see how we did this as students—we can actually get something out of a book we didn’t read. I remember how I did that as a junior in high school with Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim. I have learned, however, that one tends to get so much more out of something if you do experience it yourself!)

Anyway, all of this is to set up some of the angst I endured last week in New York as I faced two prospects in “going home” to my former school Hackley. I had received a computer generated invitation to the annual Harvard Club Hackley Alumni event, an event I loved the 8 times I went as a faculty member. And my dear friend Anne had quietly insisted for months that I should spend a school day at Hackley while on vacation.

I do not want to dwell on it for long—many of you may remember the saga, but more than a thousand days ago my “golden boy” status at Hackley changed and administrators created a far larger problem out of a resolved issue on a school trip. It went from bad to worse, and suffice it to say, you learn who your real friends are in such situations. ‘Nuff said…

And even though I have been back to New York three times since I moved away in the summer of 2007 to head off to Jordan, I had not re-visited the school, a place suffused with such affection for me in my 11 years of service, and with such disappointment at how adults can treat each other. Did I really want to go back?

I have never worked in businesses longer than a summer, so I have no idea how they really work, but in schools, I know it is a strange thing to go back and try and re-create the “magic” you may have had in a previous school. The mood in a school is an ephemeral thing. For one thing, you have no routine, no schedule to follow, no projects in motion, no recent glories in which to bask, no recent axes to grind, and no students with whom you are in the on-going struggle of transformation. I have never wanted to be that guy who skulks in the hallway, buttonholing someone with, ”Hey, remember me? I did that great play. I designed that cool course.”

But Anne kept saying, “You need to go. They need to see how happy you are in Jordan! And besides, people want to see you.” Thomas Wolfe stands there in your mind, the specter of him stroking his chin wondering…

And so I responded affirmatively to the alumni event. This event is always the same Thursday every year, and I knew that with our unusual KA schedule this year affording us a one-time only four-week holiday (we have been told it will not happen again for 33 more years!), I may never get back this alumni event for a long time. What the hay!

I will admit to a little nervousness as I got out of the subway at Bryant Park to walk the five minutes in the rain to the Harvard Club. I had planned that I would arrive at the event at 6:45 and leave at 7:45 so I could make it to the theater (Christy had bought us tickets to Billy Elliot as a Christmas gift). I could do one hour there—no matter what, one hour would be doable. Well, the subway was faster than I predicted, and I arrived at the station at 6:35. Okay, I would just pace in the subway station until 6:40 when I would walk over. I needed to keep to the schedule. I walk over, go in the big crimson doors (remember, it is the Harvard Club, and they love their crimson) a little nervous. Now, I gotta say—I looked darn good! I had worn a suit, shirt, and tie I had bought in Jordan my first month, so I had my new home comforting me a bit. I go in to check my coat, and who do I see—but Taraneh. For those of you not aware of the Khosrowshahi family—well, count it as a personal loss in your life. Sometime find yourself in Westchester county and call up and meet this family. Taraneh takes my arm and says, “Let’s walk in together.” And there we went.

It was a great hour seeing alumni—and before I knew it the time had passed. These were mostly alumni from the classes of 2001-04 and it was like a facebook wall come to life. Yes, better than facebook!

The following morning I am on the train from Manhattan up to Westchester and my day at Hackley. There were some butterflies caught in my stomach, although I really don’t know why. I stayed at Hackley two years after the sufferings in 2005 so I walked those halls all the time when certain adults had already tried to see how much misery I could stand. Two years of great classes and more wonderful students. But as I sat on the train I laughed at how Anne had really convinced me to go to Hackley. She said, rather off-handedly, landing her trump card casually: “Well, Marlene and Flo really want to see you, and you won’t be able to see them otherwise.” Marlene and Flo, two of my staunchest allies and dearest co-workers at Hackley, wanted to see me. Marlene worked in the dining hall and nourished me physically and spiritually, and Flo worked as the receptionist and mail room czarina, and kept me in touch with lovely people. I should go.

At the end of the day someone stopped by Anne’s room and asked me how the day had been. I started to qualify it with, “I guess, it was, well, considering…” and I thought, now that is silly—it was a simple answer: just great.

While I had been touch with a strong contingent of lovely families since I left, and visited with about a dozen of them in the last 18 months, I had forgotten the streams of students I had taught in the 9th grade my last two years. And walking through the hallway, yeah, I felt a little like a 40 year-old rock star with kids shrieking my name and sending hugs and love my way. I had kids come up to me from my two 7th grade study halls I had the last two years, asking if I remembered them, checking on how they were doing in the upper school. I got to spend some time with Diana, my math teacher and life friend, reminiscing about the “salad days” in the late 1990s. And of course, I got to spend time hugging and visiting with both Marlene and Flo.

I was trying to think what I feared the most—was it the shoulder shrugs of former administrators and turncoat faculty, or did I fear ebullient and fake welcomes from them? I did see several former colleagues duck away as they saw me coming down the hall. Who cares! I had heard that someone had told the headmaster that I was coming and he should welcome me back. Good grief. I guess I could do without that empty gesture. But when he did approach me, in the dining hall, he merely said, “I thought you’d have a better tan,” and kept moving. For a moment I thought that should be the title of the blog entry.

It was a day watching Anne help students as they edited their most recent English composition. It was a day envying the mound of lunch meat in the dining hall (when someone asked me what I missed most about Hackley, I almost pointed to that mountain of available turkey and ham!). It was a day reminding myself how great those Hackley kids are—from guys like Will and Andre to ladies like Zoe and Kristin and Adjoa—fondly recalling the excitement in the 9th grade history class, working to release their historical imaginations and help them soar as scholars.

I generally subscribe to the mantra that in life we must be metaphorically moving forward—always forward. But those steps backward can be forgiving and healing and reconciling. I might have spent the day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art seeing new exhibits, or tried a bistro that had previously been overlooked. But it was exactly as Anne predicted—it was good, healthy, and rejuvenating to go back and see the legions of people I miss at Hackley. As for the handful who probably grumbled that I was there—who cares! I have a new school that affords me all I want in a school, and students who challenge me and excite me, and faculty whom I cherish.

I have lived in Jordan officially for an entire calendar year now. It has been a good move. Even a wise move. Definitely the right move. And while you cannot exactly slip into your old self and re-live the old times, you can re-tread those steps and enjoy the landscapes once again.

I am home in Cincinnati with my family now, and will be taking a sabbatical from the blog until Christmas Day. Blessings on you.

2 comments:

kat said...

Hey Mr. Leistler! (I graduated over four years ago and still feel like I should call you that, lol! It's Katharine, by the way - older sister of Christina and the twins, graduated with Stefan - I'm tend to avoid using my last name online when I can!)

Anyways, I finally subscribed to your blog!!! I've been meaning to for months, but after losing the link a billion times, you can finally consider me a regular reader! :-)

That was reaallllyyyy brave of you to go back to Hackley. I never really understood "what went down," but the point is - going back to a place that is bittersweet, especially when it's very bitter and also very sweet (as seems to be the case described in the entry) is well, an experience and certainly daunting.

Hackley was very bitter and very sweet for me, albeit for many different reasons than you (although, I'm sure there's some overlap. The plays were SWEET! for example!) Just going back is an accomplishment.

The first time I went back I did so accidentally - my brother had lost his model airplane in some swath of Hackley forest, and I was riding in the car, and my dad stopped by Hackley to look for it. I would never have gotten in that car if I'd known that was one of the errands we had to run! I hid in the backseat lest someone should see me for about an hour while they searched for the model airplane.

The second time I went back was to see that play that the twins and Christina were in of yours - the SWEETNESS and pride and joy that I felt that they were doing a Leistler play were enough to quell my anxiety and fears about returning to Hackley! That was well worth it!

The third time was Mr. Litvinov's goodbye party or cocktail function or whatever it was. He fell into the SWEET category of my Hackley experience. That was one of the most terrifying and surreal and intimidating things I've ever done. How I feared the question, "oh, what college are you at?" I followed my mother around like I don't think I have since I was 4 years old, haha. I am so glad I went, but let's just say, I felt more out of my element than I did at the play and cast party.

I've been back in various capacities - your goodbye party (well, that wasn't on campus but it was still a "Hackley thing"), picking the kids up from school, but I still haven't braved an almuni event. Who knows - maybe when I do I will see you there! ;-)

Also, I have a similar bittersweet relationship with the facility I was at in Vermont. Lots of remarkable, glorious SWEET, lots of harsh, pointed BITTER.

Anyways, hi, and good for you for going back!:-)

powellsa74 said...

Johnny,
I am so glad that you went back. It is so good to see old friends and students that still love you. Merry Christmas! I hope you are enjoying time with your family. All the Enszers will be together, too!