Another Hero...Lost

Death Be Not Proud
by John Donne(1572-1631)
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

A little over two weeks ago, I was eating dinner when my phone rang. It was my mother calling to tell me that she had just heard a friend of mine from high school, a guy I played baseball with for three incredible seasons, a guy whose wife was in my graduating class and an even closer friend to me, a guy whose brother had served with me in the National Guard for about five years in both Bulgaria and Iraq, a guy with four small children and a legacy of always doing his best to help those around him had died. Now, I had not really kept in touch with this guy very much after high school. We had both gone our separate ways, meeting occasionally here and there and catching up as best we could. He married his high school sweetheart, and I had immediately gone off to conquer the world. Nonetheless, the news of his death in Afghanistan rocked me. I didn't know what to say or how to respond. I only knew that it was tragic, and that it would stick with me forever.

I remember clearly the last two times I ran into Jared Southworth. The first was at the armory in Mattoon shortly before I left for Iraq. I was working there full-time getting ready for our deployment, and Jared had just entered the Guard as a cadet with the Eastern Illinois University ROTC program. It seemed fitting to me, seeing Jared in his uniform, showing off all the high-speed equipment he had bought to compliment his basic issue. He had always seemed destined to be a soldier. There was always just something about the way he talked about the military when we were playing ball together. I remember thinking, when his brother enlisted, that it was weird seeing Michael in uniform but not Jared. Little did I know that he was slowly making his way. He just had a little different plan in mind. From hearing the stories of those who served with him after he was commissioned as an officer, I know that Jared's path was the one most suited for him. While he would have made a tremendous enlisted soldier, he was an even better officer. I regret that I never served under his command. It would have truly been an honor.

The second, and last, time I saw Jared was some months after I had returned from Iraq. I was eating lunch with my grandmother in Charleston, and he came in with his wife and kids. Jared was a crazy guy in high school, always cracking jokes, and seldom seeming to take anything seriously, but seeing him as an amazingly loving and attentive father showed me an entirely different side of the man. I guess that was just it; he was no longer the teenage boy I had known, but a man who earned the respect of someone the minute he met them. While I am saddened that I did not keep in touch with he and his wife after we all left high school, I am eternally thankful that I was able to see him like this, because it is an image that will forever be etched in my memory.

In the weeks since I received the news of his untimely death, I have been at a loss for words to express my feelings about it. At the visitation, when I hugged his widow, the girl I had known so well nearly a decade ago, who had since become as strong a woman as any of us would have imagined back then, all I could manage to say was, "I'm so sorry." There was nothing else I could say, nothing else seemed adequate or appropriate, because I felt nothing else; only sorrow that she should have to endure this tremendous loss at such a young age.

It wasn't until I found myself sitting in the packed gym at Oakland High School during the funeral that I began to find words for what I was feeling in my heart. Yet, even then, the words were not my own. The words were from the opening line of a poem by John Donne, which I had read in some literature class in college. I couldn't remember the entire poem, only those first four words: "Death be not proud". I am not sure why, out of the vaulted recesses of my often scrambled memory, this poem sprang to my consciousness like a lightning bolt. I began thinking of all the circumstances and events that can lead to a person's death, and it seemed to me that in this case, death was indeed proud. What more noble or purposeful death could one offer than to die for one's country in service of his countrymen and those in faraway lands hoping desperately for freedom from violence and oppression? I remembered sitting at a training range in basic training, listening to my drill sergeant read the citation for the Medal of Honor awarded to the man whose name had been given to the range as a sign of honor. I no longer remember the heroic deeds of that long-dead soldier, but I clearly remember my drill sergeant looking at us with the most serious expression I had ever seen and saying, "That's how I want to go... in battle." Jared was just that kind of warrior. As much as I know he loved his family, I can't help but think that had he known what was going to happen, he wouldn't have changed a thing. I can't help but think that to Jared, death could be proud. Maybe I am just thinking all of this as a way of softening the blow, but maybe that doesn't matter.

Since the funeral, I have kept running those four words over and over in mind. Today, when I came home from work, I found the poem and began to read it once, twice, three times. I found that there is more in it for me than what I had first thought. It reminded me that death will eventually come to all of us; it will not be avoided, ignored, or forgotten. It will always be present, possibly waiting around the next corner. The last lines of the poem, however, leave a smile on my face because I learned at the funeral that Jared had become strong in his faith. I learned that he regularly attended church, read his bible every day, and even sang church songs to his children before bed. In the last lines, Donne says, "wee wake eternally,/ And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die." I am confident that Jared has awoken to an eternity of life without death. He will look down and see his children grow, learning of the hero that is their father, and he will smile.

The Dawning of a New Quarter

“Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice: It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.” ~William Jennings Bryan

When I was in basic training, we used to sing the same cadence every morning while marching to Physical Training:

Here we go again.
Same old stuff again.
Marching down the avenue.
______ more weeks and we'll be through.

Some mornings, I loved this cadence. On other mornings, I hated it. The difference was always my attitude on that particular morning. If I was feeling motivated, the number of weeks remaining seemed so small, so achievable. If it had been a tough morning, the time I had left seemed insurmountable. The only constant was that I knew I could not fail. There was entirely too much riding on my ability to suck it up and continue to press forward no matter how much it hurt, how tired I was, or how much I missed home.

"But Mr. Ogle, what does this story have to do with the quote, and what do both of them have to do with the Third Quarter?" I am glad you asked. The first semester taught me a lot about myself as a teacher, but it also taught me a lot about some of you as students. Those students who work hard everyday to complete assignments on time and participate in class can stop reading now.

Now that I have the attention of the bunch of you who populate my gradebook with zeros and those of you who sit in class day-in and day-out with your head down staring blankly at the wall or the back of your eyelids, I want you to consider both my story and the quote very carefully. The quote tells us that destiny is not something that will just happen, it must be achieved. I know that all of you want something out of life, but you are making the fatal mistake of thinking that if you just wait around long enough it will happen. It doesn't work that way. With the way things are going these days, jobs for high-school dropouts are few and far between. There is no reason to believe that they will not continue to diminish both in number and salary. If you continue to approach school with the attitude that it is just an inconvenience to you, I promise you it will be something you regret for the rest of your life.

Still waiting for the explanation of my basic training story? Okay, here it goes. Much like many of you do not enjoy high school, I was miserable in basic training. Sure, looking back on it, it doesn't seem that bad, but while I was enduring it, I couldn't imagine it ever ending. I remember waking up for PT after only a few hours of sleep (like usual) and thinking to myself, "Will I ever get a good night's sleep again? I don't know how much longer I can keep this up." There were so many days when I just wanted to stay in my bunk, suffer the consequences, tell them I quit. I'm sure that the thoughts going through my mind on those mornings is pretty similar to the thoughts you have about coming to school, but I kept dragging myself out of my bunk and down to formation. I kept marching where they told me to march. I kept running when they told me to run. I kept shooting what they told me to shoot. The entire time hating nearly every minute of it. I could go on and on telling stories about how hard it was, but the point is I kept going even though I didn't want to, and it afforded me more opportunities than I could have ever gotten otherwise. For you, high school is the same way. You don't have to like it. It doesn't have to come easy, but if you just suck it up and do what you are told to do when you are told to do it, it will get over much faster than it will by just sitting around waiting.

So...
Here we go again.
Same old stuff again.
Sitting in the classroom.
Eighteen more weeks and we'll be through.

Then I won't have to look at you.
Sleepy, sleepy, sleepy you.
And you won't have to look at me.
Awesome, awesome, awesome me.

Extra Credit Deadline!!

The deadline for extra credit posts is midnight tonight (Tuesday 12/16). Any posts submitted after that time will not count for your second quarter grade. This should not be a problem as you should all be quietly tucked away in bed getting plenty of rest for your final exams long before midnight.

Sweet Dreams.

Christmas Vacation

Like all of you, I am desperately looking forward to Christmas break. Don't get me wrong, I love my job and getting to spend all day with all of you makes me glad I chose the profession I did, but everyone likes a break now and then. I look forward to spending more time with my family and not having to worry about grading or lesson planning for a week or two.

My holiday plans are pretty hectic, but they should be fun. On Christmas Eve-Eve, we will be going to my parents house in Kansas sometime in the afternoon and will be spending the night. On Christmas Eve morning, we will wake up bright and early to open gifts and spend the day relaxing and enjoying each other's company. That evening, my wife, kids, and I will head home to attend service at our church in Mattoon. We will wake up bright and early again on Christmas morning to open presents. After that, we will pack-up and drive to my wife's grandmother's house in Pana for more holiday food, family time, and presents. Once we leave there, we will go spend the night at my in-law's house, also in Pana. The next morning, we will wake up bright and early once again to, you guessed it, open more presents. Hopefully, we will then be able to relax for the rest of the day and let our hands recover from wrapping-paper-shredding syndrome before making the drive back home to Mattoon.

I hope you all have exciting plans laid on for the holiday season as well. Feel free to share your plans with all of us.

Finally, I would like to ask all of you to keep our brave servicemembers stationed around the globe, as well as their families, in your thoughts. I know from experience that being away from the ones you love during this time of year is difficult. I spent two Thanksgivings, two Christmases, and two New Years in the middle east, and I have a bunch of friends deployed to Afghanistan right now as part of the 33rd Brigade Combat Team.

Happy Holidays!

Bow Before the Altar of Semester Exams!

"As long there are tests, there will be prayer in schools."

I don't know who said this, but it is funny only as long as it is true. Now, I will admit that I have done my fair share of praying before a big test, but I have never felt the need to ask for help from above when I walked into the test knowing I was prepared.

As a student, the worst feeling in the world is looking at the first page of a test and realizing that you did not study enough. I remember taking a midterm exam in a poetry class in college. I don't remember how or why I was so unprepared for this test; I only remember sitting there for over an hour fumbling through this monstrousity and feeling like I was drowning. As painful as the experience was for me, I learned a valuable lesson: The pain of really preparing for a test is far less than the pain of taking a test for which you have not prepared.

When the final exam for that class rolled around, I spent two days prior to the test doing nothing but living, drinking, and eating poetry. I had done the math, and my grade was such that getting an A on the test would not bump me up from a B to an A in the class, and all I had to do was not fail the test in order to keep from dropping to a C, but that was not important to me. Proving to myself that the content of this class was not more than I could handle was the only thing that mattered to me. I wanted to crush this test just to prove that I belonged in the class.

I realized early in my college career that judging my value or intelligence based on a series of five letters was about the most useless and destructive thing I could do. I have seen brilliant students get C's because of circumstances outside of their control and complete baffoons get A's because they are really good at "school". What really mattered to me was whether or not I got what I needed or wanted out of every class. Don't get me wrong, good grades can open a lot of doors, but do not make the mistake of thinking that getting less than perfect grades closes all doors. You may just have to find a window here or there.

What is the point of all this babbling? The point is that many of you either need or deserve to do well on the semester exams next week. However, I can tell you that needs, wants, and aspirations will not translate into a good grade. The only way to ensure that you do well on the semester exam is to pull out the material from the semester and make sure you know it forward and backward. It will be painful, but not nearly as painful as taking the class again next year.

Now, since you need to be studying instead of reading my musings, I will leave you with a final morsel for thought. After you finish your tests next week, you have sixteen days straight in which to recover. All you have to do is push yourself for seven days, and then you get to rest. Why does that sound familiar? Anyway, you all can do it. I know you can, or I wouldn't waste my time trying to help you do it.

GOOD LUCK!

*Author's Note: I totally owned that poetry final --I think I got one of the highest test scores in the class. I still got a B for the course.*

One of my heroes...

I want to take a break from Dr. Seuss for a special Veteran's Day blog. As many of you know, I served seven years in the Illinois Army National Guard and deployed overseas three times during that service, with one of those deployments being a year of combat-service in Iraq. This blog, however, is not about my service. You see, I will not be thinking about what I did this Veteran's Day. Instead, my thoughts will be with those still serving and those whose service was the last, great thing they accomplished for this world. I had the privilege of knowing, and serving with, just such a man. His name was Specialist Justin Penrod.

Penrod and I did not always see eye-to-eye, but I always knew that when the time came, he would have my back. That was the kind of guy Penrod was. He had not lived a very charmed life, but I believe somehow there was great character sitting dormant within him all along, waiting for an awakening. During high school, Penrod had a lot of discipline problems, both in school and in the community. Finally, in an effort to change the direction of his life, he was enrolled in a military-based alternative education program, which would teach him discipline and allow him to earn his GED.

This experience changed Penrod so profoundly, that he did not want to abandon it. Instead, he joined the National Guard in order to continue on with the great tradition of military service that he had learned from his instructors to respect so greatly. In addition, Penrod returned after basic training to the school which had taught him so much, and became an instructor himself. While there, he became a role-model for many young men, some of which have followed in his footsteps and are currently serving their country as a direct result of Penrod's influence on their lives. It was during this period of his life that I met Penrod and grew to respect him.

After our deployment to Iraq, Penrod, who married his wife only a few days before we shipped out, became a father. His son was born severely premature and had all of the medical problems that accompany such a birth. For weeks, the tiny child was hospitalized, and no matter how long the drive, or how many other things needed to be done, Penrod could always be found making visits to the hospital to be with his son. You see, for Penrod, this child more important than anything else he could ever accomplish. Fatherhood will have that affect on a great man.

Before long, it became clear that Penrod's civilian job and insurance would not be enough to handle the medical expenses for his son, both presently and in the future. When this realization hit, Penrod did not hesitate, but marched immediately to the recruiting station and signed an active duty contract. While serving on active duty, Penrod's son would be completely covered for any and all medical treatment. The inevitability of another tour in Iraq or Afghanistan did not phase Penrod, because the only thing he cared about was making sure his son would be taken care of. In basic training, we are taught to be selfless, Penrod showed his selflessness in a way that few ever could.

Not surprisingly, Penrod was deployed to Iraq with his new unit shortly after arriving on active duty. He made it to Iraq in July of 2007 to begin his second tour only a year after completing his first. One month into this second tour, Penrod was on a combat patrol, something he had done a hundred times before. This time, his patrol was walking down a street and began taking sniper fire from a nearby rooftop. Without hesitation, Penrod and three other soldiers set out to assault the building and take out the shooter. Moments after busting through the door, Penrod and the other soldiers fell victim to explosives planted in the house. He died the way he lived: selflessly trying to help others.

The remarkable thing about Penrod's story is that if you could ask him, he would tell you he was unremarkable. The inspiring thing about Penrod's story is that if you had the time, you would probably find that the story of every American service member who has given their life for this country is just as remarkable. You see, it takes a special quality in a human being to be willing to die so that others may live, so it should come as no surprise to find that those who have done it are truly special people.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Not long ago, I was getting my daughter ready for bed, and she asked me to read her a book. I went to her bookcase, and pulled the first Dr. Seuss book I saw. It just happened to be Oh, the Places You'll Go!, and as I began to read, I realized that this book is much more than a fun tongue-twister. The message it delivers is so important that it seems wasteful to have it hidden in a children's book. For this reason, I have decided to discuss it on my blog -one of the most powerful and influential sites on the entire world-wide web.

Almost immediately, Dr. Seuss hits us with a realization that many of us struggle to deny, but ultimately have to accept: "You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy [or gal] who'll decide where to go." Now, we are not really on our own; most of us have family, friends, teachers, or others who are available to give us support when we need it, but what he is trying to say is that we are the ones who, in the end, are responsible for our direction. All of the outside influences in the world cannot relieve us of our responsibility for which path we take. This premise is the base for Seuss' entire book.

The story follows our unnamed hero as he wanders through Seuss' world of fancifully named creatures and mysterious places. One place that causes some real issues is "The Waiting Place." We are warned to avoid getting caught in this place, where everyone is just sitting around waiting for something to happen. Oh, how many of us find ourselves guilty of this in our lives? We tell ourselves that things will really start to happen when this thing or that thing comes true, and we just wait. Living is an activity that must be done, not waited for. The sooner we realize that things don't happen to us, we happen to them, the sooner we begin to see ourselves achieving goals instead of waiting on them.

The greatest thing about the book, though, is that the lesson does not end with just one insight, or even two. The entire text is a handbook on life, but maybe more directly, the teenage years. Last Saturday, our fine football team made the trip to Quincy for the first ever appearance of the Paris Tigers in the state playoffs. All year, we have seen this team show how special they are by beating teams like Charleston and making a run at Effingham, only to see them defeated by a bunch of no-good cheaters who shouldn't even be allowed to play in the same playoff schedule with us because they are a bunch of cheating cheaters... but I digress. The important thing to remember is that while they may not have been the best team on the field last weekend, they were the best football team this town has had the opportunity to get behind, and that, in itself, is special.

And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. Fame! You'll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV. Except when they don't. Because, sometimes, they won't.

Dr. Seuss reminds us that even during times when it seems like we can't lose, eventually we will, and realizing that it is not the end of the road, not even a speed bump, is what makes us special. We can pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and tackle the next challenge wiser for our experiences.

I could go on for pages about the lessons in this book and how they apply to high school students, but I will not. Instead, let me just say that, "be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea", pick a Dr. Seuss book and look for the meaning beyond the madness.