The Long Game

Twenty-five years.

As another school year draws to a close, I find myself putting the final touches on 25 years in education.

Andy Dufresne was only in Shawshank for 19.

When I taught senior English, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption was a staple of my curriculum. It paired perfectly with The Count of Monte Cristo—a connection I’m sure Stephen King was fully aware of. My students often struggled with the texts but loved the movies. And that’s okay.

Both are stories of friendship.

One of my favorite characters in all of literature is the Priest in The Count of Monte Cristo. He’s not just learned—he’s wise. He knows that if he wants Edmond to cooperate, he can’t coerce him. He has to offer him something of value. A deal. Escape. Hope.

But as they dig their way out, the Priest gives Edmond so much more. He gives him an education. He plants the seeds of forgiveness. And those seeds don’t bloom until the end, when Edmond finally understands what he’s learned.

Living well is the best revenge.

That story has always informed my work as a teacher. If the Priest had tried to lecture or bully Edmond, it would have failed. Instead, he waits. Patiently. He lets Edmond grow at his own pace.

Teaching high school is no different. I can hand students every answer, but it won’t matter until they’re ready to accept it.

There’s a poster behind my desk that sums it up.

Frank Darabont’s film version of Shawshank flips the mentor dynamic on its head. We assume Red is teaching Andy—but in truth, Andy is teaching Red. About identity. About resilience. About building a sense of self that can’t be touched by the outside world. About hope.

Teenagers get that. Stories of prison and escape aren’t hard sells. They often feel trapped themselves—by rules, by expectations, by the slow march of adolescence. When I tell them that Edmond Dantès was imprisoned for roughly the same amount of time they spend in school, they get it.

We always spent a full class period discussing what Andy endured at the hands of the Sisters. King’s version is more graphic than the film—but also more necessary. It reinforces not only how awful prison is, but how strong Andy had to be to survive it.

Andy was a survivor.

You can be, too.

“Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose.”

— Viktor Frankl

When people find out I teach high school, they often say some version of, “Kids these days…”

But the truth is, kids today aren’t much different than I was. Or than the teenagers who came before me. They’re social. They crave fairness. They value consistency. They can be unkind—and beautifully kind.

They’re not ready to learn… until they are.

I’ve been incredibly lucky to teach where I do. We have great kids. Even the ones labeled “bad” can be reached.

I’ve been allowed to make mistakes—and I’ve made plenty. There are students I couldn’t reach, and I think about them sometimes. Teaching is a lot like parenting. You do your best. You live with your mistakes. And you keep trying.

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So, what have I learned from 25 years in education?

I’ve learned that education is a lifelong process. When I keep learning and growing, the work becomes more fruitful, more reflective, more valuable. If I can communicate that to students, I have done my job.

I’ve learned to never stop asking “Why not?” So much of what we do in schools is done because “that’s how we’ve always done it.” Sometimes that’s fine—but it never hurts to pause and ask if there’s a better way.

I’ve learned that people—students and colleagues—move on. And that’s okay. It’s okay that they leave. It’s okay to miss them. Things go on, barely missing a beat..

But most of all, I’ve learned this.

Spending a life among people who are growing is a life well spent. It’s not always easy. It can be painful.

But it can also be incredibly rewarding.

“Get busy living, or get busy dying. That’s god damn right.”