It was a charming house, full of rounded doorways and small little rooms. It needed work, for sure, but it was just right for Jacob and me at the time. When we moved in, we were excited to have a dining room in addition to the kitchen space, but we only had one table. My dad the craftsman, came to the rescue, building us a custom-fit kitchen table that was perfect for two. Carefully built out of maple, it was absolutely ideal for our needs. We put it to good use for a number of years until the move to the farm. Then, with only space for one table and knowing that Dad’s table was too small to ever host guests, the maple table was tucked away in the basement until we found the perfect new use for it.

Last year, I found the perfect new use for it. As I was searching for fun new seating options for my classroom and creating new work spaces for the students, I remembered Dad’s table and was excited about putting it to use once again. I dusted off the table, hauled it to school and surrounded it with four blue stools. The students loved sitting there to work! Whether they were reading, writing, drawing, solving math problems, working alone or with a group, they enjoyed the table and I was thrilled to have the addition to my classroom.

This year, with all the COVID protocols and precautions, the students have to stay at their assigned desk all day. Completely the opposite of my classroom the last few years where we encouraged kids to move about, get more comfortable and to choose different spaces for different kinds of learning. To make more room (six feet!) between each desk, I had to take out all my fun seating options. The little love seat and chair came home. The pillows all came home. The bed rests and beanbags all came home. “All extras” were tucked away, put into school storage or returned home for an unknown length of time. But I just wasn’t ready to put the table back in the storage closet in the basement.

As I arranged my classroom last August, trying to preserve as much of the fun learning environment as I possibly could while creating safe distances between student desks, I kept shifting the table from here to there, trying to find a home for it. It didn’t take long before I realized that despite all my years of not having a teacher’s desk (my preference), the new computer/projector set-up required something at the front of the room for the computer. Dad’s table came to the rescue. Much smaller than the school-issued teacher desks, the table provided ample space for the computer and enough work room for my needs all while minimizing the footprint in the overall room. I was even able to tuck an extra student desk underneath!

Now, every day when I am at school, every day when I face the stresses and joys of teaching, every day when I sit and answer emails from parents criticizing an instructional choice I made or more demands from administration on my time, or when I grade student work, I sit at a desk crafted by the hands of my dad.

It is never for a moment lost on me that my dad used to sit at a desk grading papers, handling criticisms from parents and demands from administrators. It is never far from my thoughts that he surely felt stressed and frustrated and anxious and sometimes maybe even as defeated as I do. But I never remember Dad complaining. I never remember our dinner conversations revolving around his stress at work. I never remember him venting about students or any of the abundant pressures on teachers. I am sure he did, in appropriate ways, but never to us kids. I do remember people, from my youth to now, always telling me what an inspirational teacher and administrator my dad was. I remember feeling pride, never once embarrassment, that my dad was my high school principal, a relationship and position that could have been extremely challenging had he been unfair, temperamental, authoritative or unsympathetic to students and staff. But he wasn’t. He was exactly the kind of administrator I wish I could work for today. Supportive, encouraging, empowering and fair.

As I sat this past week at the table Dad built for me, preparing grades, data and information for parent teacher conferences, I felt overwhelmed. This year has been like no other and the challenges have certainly taken their toll. As I found myself getting upset over a parent criticism, I sat back for a moment and noticed the table I was seated at. The sanded, polished wood. The beautiful added details to the legs. Even the little dots from a Sharpie marked that soaked through a paper at some point. I realized that I was not only sitting at a table my dad crafted, but that I am a human being that my dad crafted. Made, not just from the love between him and my mom, but raised with the same fairness, encouragement, support and empowerment that he gave to his students and staff during his career. In fact, I am sure I got heaps more of all those things being one of his daughters.

Crafted by Dad.

Today, and every day, I am blessed by my career. Even on the most difficult of days during the most difficult year, I am blessed to be a teacher. And I am blessed to have been raised by my dad (and mom), who both crafted me into the person that I am today. This table is my daily reminder that to be loved like this is no small thing. That while any table (or teacher) might do, the craftsmanship of my dad can make all the difference. This little blessing made of maple made all the difference today.