The Original Nine…Plus One
“Who gets to start a school and see it through?” These kids. And their families. And so do I.
Seven and a half years ago, my good friend and mentor Diane Hale sent an email to all(?) of the Chandler teachers of academically gifted students asking if anyone was interested in starting the conversation about a all-gifted academy in CUSD. I’m guessing I replied based on the subject of the message; I’m pretty sure I didn’t even read the email.
I was just finishing up my 13th year as a professional educator and itching for next level stuff. Something that would restart the fire. Something that would challenge me as a professional and as a person. Something that would be talked about long after I would be gone. How could I ever imagine that Knox Gifted Academy would be all of these and so, so, so much more? But this is not about me. It never has been. Never will be. This is about nine trailblazers and their families who took a calculated risk to start a new school as the first KGA Kindergartner class.
These nine have seen the good, the bad, the ugly, and hopefully they’ve seen the best of Knox Gifted Academy as we’ve grown from nine classrooms on a divided campus to 29 classrooms, nearly 700 students, and a community of gifted learners breaking down barriers, rewriting the rule book, and challenging the notion of what a quality education means.
And like all explorers, they helped create the map, helped identify the dangers, helped find the sources of wealth and wisdom for all those who came after them. Their dedication to an unconventional school, unconventional curriculum, unconventional teachers and administrators helped pave the way for amazing and once unthinkable learning experiences. Experiences, because on their grit, that will continue to shape the educational journeys of future KGA Knights. Their mark, their legacy on campus may or may not be easily recognizable or definable. But we will always remember these nine mavericks forever. Because it’s set in stone!
Today during morning recess, Sara noticed some wet concrete and, like any curious child, wanted to make an imprint. But not just because it was wet concrete. Rather she realized that a physical reminder, a mark, a handprint and a few initials in the concrete holding up the posts to the makerspace shade-structure was metaphoric. For her, the space represented all the hard work and tears and struggles, the successes and failures and wondrous moments that come with being a Knight.
“Can we add our handprints?” she asked. I have a sneaky suspicion Sara wasn’t asking. She was telling. She and her eight friends were going to leave their mark, regardless of teacher permission. Heck, they’d been leaving their mark for six years without anyone telling them to do so. They are the leaders. They are gritty. They are KGA.
I am honored that they included me in this ceremony since I am the only remaining KGA teacher from 2011. I am only one-tenth of this story. They represent 90%. This is obviously bittersweet. I have seen each of these young people grow up. They are my children, too. I love and care for each one of them, individually and collectively. I know we’ll empty a few boxes of Kleenex on the last day of school. But the beauty of their physical mark is that it’s everlasting. Any time I need to be reminded of my purpose, my goals, my mission as an educator, all I need to do is look up at these superstars as I look down.
