Earlier this month, I watched my sister get an award. The Alumni Association of the University at Albany honored her for excellence in education. Fifteen other alums were touted, but she gave the closing speech.
Pegeen teaches elementary school in South Colonie. She teaches graduate students at UAlbany how to teach reading and writing.
My older sister told an audience of high achievers — and their loved ones, who gathered for the celebratory meal — about the rewards of connecting with kids in the public school system. She came across as steady and sturdy, expressing surprise at getting an award for her teaching.
During the cocktail hour, she worried over some phrasing she planned to use: What I do seems as natural as the sun coming up.
No, I told her, this is not a cliche. Those words were perfect. Later, they fell perfectly on the people in the room, especially me.
My sister is evidence that dedication to everyday things is significant. I seek things that are stunning, and skirt routines. If Pegeen and I are punctuation marks, I'm an exclamation point, and she is a period.
Our differences kept us from seeing anything eye-to-eye until we had kids. Becoming friends has been a slow process. It was a real thrill to be proud of my big sister as she made the ordinary seem extraordinary.
I am not alone in needing a hint that life's mundane concerns are significant. Many of the people assembled that night do things that are less subtle and invisible than guiding and mentoring 9-year-olds through an academic terrain that is underfunded and crowded with mountains of tests. All of us need to learn that the foundational work of education matters as much as more lauded (and well-remunerated, as well as less embattled) career paths.
Only when the ordinary happens, say, when the sun comes up and shines on us, can we shine, too.
Amy Halloran is a Troy writer. Her website is at http://amyhalloran.net.