The annual Retiree Luncheon brought together former faculty and staff for a joyful afternoon at the President’s Pavilion on Wednesday, Mar. 4. The gathering was filled with warm greetings, shared stories and plenty of laughter as colleagues reunited and reminisced about their years at Punahou.
One of the events I most look forward to every year is the gathering of retired faculty and staff that I host at the president’s home. Each spring, the pavilion fills with a beloved generation of colleagues who dedicated their working lives to promoting our school’s mission and serving the students in their care. The moment is profoundly inspiring as I reflect on the fact that I too will someday join their distinguished number. It is also a little nerve-wracking, particularly as I stand to speak before so many of my own former teachers! To be honest, for at least a few seconds I find myself transported back in time to my teenage self, trying to summon my thoughts and make a coherent presentation in front of a group that I hold in such high esteem.
As I reflect on my own experience as a Punahou student, I am filled with gratitude for this remarkable group. I recall eighth grade science on the third floor of Bishop Hall with Mr. Harold Lee, the distinguished gentleman with shining eyes and a wry smile who constantly pushed me to think systematically and critically about the natural world. Still a new arrival to Punahou, having started only in seventh grade, I recall wrestling with the density of our textbook, paralyzed by the flood of concepts in human biology and how they all fit together. When I built up my courage to talk with him after class, Mr. Lee kindly shared some wisdom that would serve me well the rest of my life. “If you really want to understand the chapter,” he advised me, “you need to make an outline of it for yourself in your own words.” Today, cognitive scientists tell us that learning sticks best when we must explain ideas to another person, or to ourselves, and many of us are familiar with the depth of understanding we achieve when we teach something to someone else. But Mr. Lee knew that truth thirty- five years ago. Following that practice made a difference throughout the rest of my Punahou journey, my college and graduate school years, and my own professional career.
I also clearly remember Ms. Darlee Kishimoto’s ninth grade speech class in Pauahi Hall. Each morning our group of gangly freshmen navigated the challenge of making oral presentations on a wide range of topics before our peers. Petrified that we would embarrass ourselves with an awkward performance, a fate worse than death for a fifteen-year-old, we would anxiously watch our friends go to the gallows as we awaited our turn. As the semester progressed, however, a kind of educational miracle took place. Ms. Kishimoto was so encouraging and so supportive, even as she delivered constructive criticism, that everyone’s confidence grew and many of us started to thrive on the challenge. Perhaps even more importantly, Ms. Kishimoto built a community among the students in her classroom. We all applauded, pulled for, and encouraged each other. In that safe and welcoming environment, we ultimately found our own voices. To this day, every time I speak at an alumni gathering, a parents’ meeting, or before an audience of several thousand at Punahou’s Commencement, my confidence flows from that root source.
Much of my education at Punahou also took place outside the classroom, and I remain deeply indebted to my cross country and track coaches, particularly Mr. Ralph Dykes and Mr. Michael Georgi. Coaching is a very powerful form of teaching, and my experience at Punahou not only made me a much better runner and racer it also transformed the way that I understood myself and my potential. Endurance athletes live in a world of deferred gratification. They invest countless hours in training to produce competitive results, striving to be at their very best when it counts the most. Over successive seasons, Mr. Dykes and Mr. Georgi helped me learn to do that, and to stretch myself beyond what I thought I was capable of. In the process I found reservoirs of strength that I didn’t know I possessed. Their own personal character, shaped by discipline, dedication, and teamwork, also provided personal models for me, helping me think about the kind of life I wanted to lead. Following graduation, I went on to race cross country and track in college and the lessons that I learned there still shape my approach to life.
There are many others that I can point to who had similar impacts on me, including Mr. Jay Seidenstein in American history, Ms. Margo Sorenson and Ms. Barbara Nelson in English, Ms. Jane Earle Dubrowski in Spanish, and Mr. Carl Wheeler in calculus. They all stand out for what they taught in their fields, but more profoundly for what they taught me about life. They helped me to understand that the most important challenge for me was not just to figure out what I was good at. It was to begin to learn what I cared about, what mattered to me, and what I might be willing to commit myself to. Responding to that question required a longer process of real reflection, discernment, and engagement. The answer for me, however, was clear. Inspired by such brilliant teachers, I wanted to devote myself to education.
In contemporary society, we sometimes forget the tremendous impact that teachers have on us, and the enduring value of that profession. In Robert Bolt’s famous play, “A Man for All Seasons,” the sixteenth century English statesman Sir Thomas More counsels a young protégé seeking to find his future career path. When he suggests that his friend might someday become a good teacher, his friend demurs. Hoping for a life of fame and renown, he asks “if I am a great teacher, who would know?” More’s response, “You. Your students. God. Not a bad audience,” that speaks volumes.
I expect that many of you, as Punahou alumni, can reflect on transformative experiences with your own teachers. Even now, as I walk across our beautiful campus, every building or classroom conjures up a memory for me as I reflect on the person I once was, and the person I became. My gratitude extends as well to the many groundskeepers, custodians, cafeteria workers, business office, advancement, admissions, and school staff who allow Punahou to continue to deliver its mission. My predecessor, Jim Scott, often defined Punahou as the product of two gifts, a Hawaiian gift of land, reciprocity and knowledge, and a missionary commitment to education. To that framing I would add a third gift, the amazing people who have come to Punahou from around the world, found a home here, and selflessly served our school’s mission. I encourage you to join me in thanking them and telling them what they mean to you as well. As children of Ka Punahou, we are all blessed by their devotion.