A Welcome Back Message from Head of Middle School Vanessa O’Driscoll P’27, P’29
Dear Wheeler Middle School Families:
Fourth-grade teacher Mrs. Ford was a shadowy legend to me when I was in 3rd grade, and to be honest, she terrified me. She towered over me, even though I was one of the tallest in my class. She moved slowly and deliberately down the hall, her class dutifully scurrying behind her blue skirt, afraid to make a peep. She held a homemade stop sign in the lunchroom. Stop meant stop talking, stop moving around, stop doing whatever you’re doing. She didn’t say anything, she just held the stop sign up in your direction and you stopped. She made me shake.
And then she was my 4th-grade teacher. On the very first day, she set an egg timer for two minutes for each kid, and asked us to tell her about ourselves—What did we love? Who did we live with? What did we like to learn? We got bolder as we went. She spoke for two minutes, too. She told us about her family, about how she likes to set up her classroom, how she made the stop sign with her students. We began to build our relationship. And I quickly learned that she was one of the funniest, kindest, smartest women I’d ever known. When she moved slowly and deliberately down the hall, we dutifully scurried behind her, silent because she’d taught us that it was kind to be quiet in the hallway, and that there was plenty of fun to be had once we got to our seats. She taught us systems and structures and ideas all the while listening to us, making us feel seen, heard, and known. She loved us, and we loved her. She was a good teacher.
This summer, once again, I got to be a student, but this time I knew nothing about my teacher. My family and I traveled to Nashville, and one of the ways we escaped the heat was to take a rolled ice cream class at Roll Academy. To make traditional Thai rolled ice cream, you pour sweet cream onto a large, chilled plate. Using two spatulas, you scramble and toss the rapidly freezing puddle into a creamy pile, chop in whatever flavorings you want (me: strawberries and a Biscoff cookie), spread it quickly and thinly across the whole plate, and finally, wielding the spatula like a spackling knife, scrape up five perfectly rolled, frozen coils. It was a multi-step process that needed a great deal of fast motion and precision, and, if you did it right, generated what can only be described as food art. To be able to do all of this, I’d need a good teacher.
The folks who worked behind the counter made it look easy. In fact, it was not. But my teacher, A.G., was extraordinary. She instructed with clarity, coached with enthusiasm, corrected mistakes unapologetically, and celebrated accomplishments with joy. When she explained to me that my rolls were not working perfectly because the non-dairy recipe was much harder to manage, I felt seen. When she laughed at my mistakes, I laughed, too. When she corrected my technique (“Hold that spatula higher! Higher! Angle up!”) I saw immediate improvement. When she erupted with a delighted “Look at that! That’s a great roll!” I felt deep pride and gratitude. A.G. allowed me to get my hands dirty and to try and try again. The gentle push-pull of her constant encouragement and correction guided me to a finished product that represented massive growth from my first attempt. I went from making piles of splintered ice cream to perfectly rolled sheets of treat. She was a good teacher.
Teaching is an art. You have to let your students get their hands around the spatulas, let them make a few botched rolls, give them guidance when they start heading in the wrong direction, give them the inspiration they need to keep going when things get tough.
What I love about our teachers at Wheeler is how deeply they care about their students and their craft. Teachers who, like A.G. knowing that my dietary restrictions made my ice cream rolls more difficult, understand that our students’ learning profiles differ, and what works for one might not work for another. Teachers who, like A.G. noticing me holding my spatula at the wrong angle, have their eye on every student to find the angle that helps them grow. Teachers who, like A.G. gushing at my perfect roll, know that a kind and supportive word can make all the difference in a student’s ability to persevere. At the foundation of all of this is a relationship. A.G. and I formed a relationship in just a few short hours, and I would gladly take another class in any other subject area she could teach. Like Mrs. Ford, she made me excited about the lesson at hand and confident about what I could accomplish. Like our Wheeler Middle School teachers, she employed both her knowledge of her subject and her knowledge of the intricacies of teaching and learning to help me grow.
As excited as I was to get away with my family and taste my cold delight on a blistering Nashville day, I am so happy to face the beginning of the school year. Over the next few weeks, our gifted teachers are coming back into their classrooms from their summers away, summers where they played with their families and engaged in robust professional development and prepared themselves for next year’s students. Everything awaits. What happens next is that the kids step into the classroom, the teacher introduces themselves, and the relationship begins. What they build together will unfold all year. It will involve highs and lows, encouragement, coaching, correction, and celebration. We are so lucky to work together.
There are still a few weeks left before the school year begins. In that time, please enjoy each other and the beautiful weather. I can’t wait to see the classes of 2029, 2030, and 2031 on Tuesday, Sept. 3 for orientation!
Warmly,
Vanessa O’Driscoll P ’27, ’29
Head of Wheeler Middle School
P.S. If you’re looking for my June letters about textbooks, summer reading, supply lists, etc., here they are again: