“It’s a very ancient saying,
But a true and honest thought,
That if you become a teacher,
By your pupils you’ll be taught.”

So, ok. You completed my 10th grade social studies class, but still never quite figured out what it was all about. Or, you were present for PLAYERS’ final Green Room prior to the last performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream.  Then, some of you already know why the song lyric above has always been important to me—enough to ask all of you in the class of 2025 to read or reread it—as you and I leave LM together. For the last time.

If I have been privileged to teach you, and appreciate your dedication to the endless examples of artistry and athletics and technology and music, and overhear conversations about history and health, and literature and languages, and science and math and photography, and a cappella that form LM life during and after school…

 …do you realize how much you taught me? 

 Do you know how I thrived professionally and personally on your lessons from every one of your LM days, to watch as you discovered the joy and the optimism LM nurtures, even through challenges we all endured? Yes, right here—never forget our LM life with Sean Hughes. 

 Will you tell anyone asking—a classmate whom I have not met, yet—a sibling, a parent, grandparent, friend or neighbor? Can you tell them, “Yeah, I remember—I was his student. I taught JJG things.”

 So, what do you think? What have you taught me? 

 Empathy? Self-discovery? Laughter? How to communicate? Accomplishment?  

 Did you teach me harmony? The beautiful chaos of rehearsals and practices in the pool or the gym? How about grace, under pressure? (Add the pun, it’s fine.)

 Did you teach me resilience in how to handle losing something you really wanted? 

 But…what if I have not met you, yet?  By your pupils you’ll be taught? 

 How does that work for the rest of us in the class of 2025, Mr. Grace?  

 Think for a minute. Can you recall right now an image of one of LM’s extraordinary teachers, staffers, administrators, coaches—maybe even someone who is also leaving with us—or possibly a teacher or different adult whom you came to know and value, who will continue to define LM without us?  

 So, right back at you…what have you, their “pupils”, taught any of them, your “teachers?”

 Everything. Everything good and great and sometimes difficult but ultimately satisfying about being an LM student. 

 So, ok, JJG. We taught you all these things, but, what did you teach us?

 Maybe only this: that every single day, all 750 of them together with you for four years, and about 4,200 more of them with everyone who was here before you…

 …I always meant it when we shared a greeting, that…

 …I was always better since seeing you.

 And I always will be, too.

 Good Vibrations.