It shouldn’t be a big surprise that the heart of any school is, well, the heart. That schools are vested with growing and, increasingly, measuring minds doesn’t contradict the truth that successful education runs on relationships. Great schools nourish both the head and the heart.
You can see this in the statistics compiled by the researchers at Gallup in their latest State of America’s Schools: The Path to Winning Again in Education. This comprehensive examination of our nation’s schools maps out less-traveled territory in the journey toward academic achievement. The Gallup pollsters charted student success by three polestars: hope, engagement and well-being. These emotional gauges are not the usual guiding lights used when searching for student growth. So, you might see how emotion influences education by perusing those numbers, graphs and diagrams, but you would certainly feel the power of the heart in the daily work of Escalante Middle School’s late counselor, Dr. Chad Novak.
Chad began his educational career student teaching at Escalante. He went on to teach at both of Durango’s public middle schools, ultimately returning to Escalante as one of our counselors. He is an integral part of the Escalante family. Our school is a family like any other, both frustrating and fulfilling, able to bring a tear and a laugh, often in the same moment. We rely on each other and we blame each other and we revel in the victories of each and we cheer for each other when we lose. And like in any family, it is possible to feel both enmity and adoration toward another simultaneously. And we weep together. But to survive and thrive, a family must find acceptance and forgiveness.
Chad is many things to many people: son, brother, husband, father, confidant, colleague, counselor, teacher, friend. We are all one less now. His life at Escalante offers hope to those who carry on with some small piece of him. He worked like that. Chad might say something to you, personally, in passing, or he might speak in front of a crowd; but in either case, it became a part of you. He could change your day or your view over a cup of tea and an attentive ear. Just ask all the people he helped who didn’t even know he was helping until much later.
Whether he was walking and talking with a kid who just couldn’t handle class today because of home, teachers or other kids or sharing a student’s troubles with a team of teachers just so we all knew what it might be like to be that kid for a minute, Chad led with his heart. He empowered students. Their dream might be making a radio show covering teen topics or finding a vocation at the Humane Society or simply experiencing that first success in class – regardless, Chad was there, facilitating and encouraging. He helped kids find the best in themselves through equine therapy experiences or tutoring sessions or fly-fishing in the waters below Escalante. His classroom was as big as his soul.
He made it a personal crusade to help those who were troubled by ghosts – not the Hollywood style of spook but the real specter that arises from the death of someone close. The haunting by memory and grief. He never promised freedom from the past, just the ability to face it with courage and a friend. We all could use his help now. Maybe he would listen just right or put his hand on your shoulder or say the thing you needed to hear. Chad, we need your help to move forward.
He’s still around, you know. He may have “shuffled off this mortal coil,” but Chad is still here, out at lunch duty or walking the halls with kids or colleagues. He is the courage that a student finds to stand in front of a crowd of hundreds telling of her friend, Chad Novak, flapping all the kids into the school from lunch recess like a giant eagle. He is the bravery that every student uses to get up one more time and face school, family, failure or friends. He is the balloon arch suggestion for the first day of school.
Chad, you will always live at Escalante. You live in the recognition of sorrow in another. You live in the acceptance of aid. You live in forgiveness. You live in the shared silence of the speechless, awed by the complexities of living. You live in the offered hand. You are missed. You are remembered. You are loved.
John Hise is a teacher at Escalante Middle School. Reach him at jhise2@durango.k12.co.us.
