Perspectives on Childhood, Education and Parenting

Tom Northrup “In connection, we stand a better chance. We do not have to flee. We can hold our ground against the tide… In connecting to other people, to great causes or small moments, we can sink our ankles into the sand against the constant undertow of loss and pain.” – From Connect by Dr. Edward Hallowell

Tom Northrup

By Tom Northrup

Arthur Vall Spinosa, my maternal grandfather, was born in 1880 in Ponce, Puerto Rico. Nine years later, his family—father, mother and four children (all under the age of twelve)— boarded a steamer for a twenty-one day voyage to begin a new life in New York City. His father, Zacharias, an Anglican minister, had accepted a position at a parish in Manhattan. Six months after their arrival, his mother died in childbirth.

I recently reread my grandfather’s memoir, “Reminiscences” which encompasses the first twenty-five years of his life. During his first year in the United States, Arthur and his brother attended a public school in New York, sharing a desk in a large classroom (“still as statues”) speaking not a word of English.

At the end of that year, after their mother’s death and with the church’s support, the children were sent to boarding schools in New Jersey. They infrequently saw their father after this. By 1905, only three of the six Vall Spinosas were alive. In addition to his mother, his father, who had left the ministry, remarried and returned to Puerto Rico, and his beloved younger sister, Hilda, had also died.

My grandfather wrote his memoir in his early retirement years (1948-52) after he and his wife had raised three children, had ten grandchildren, and he had enjoyed a successful career as an engineer and inventor. One of my recurrent memories of my grandfather was of him sitting quietly in the stands of our city park stadium, watching me play in a Babe Ruth League baseball game, as he frequently did. Afterwards, as usual, we enjoyed an ice cream cone, and then he took me home in his green Nash Rambler. Few words were ever exchanged, but it was always reassuring to be with him.

I think it was no accident that he chose to focus his memoirs on the misfortunes and challenges of his childhood and early adult years, rather than his later personal and professional successes. Over and over he implied that his character and achievement were forged through the kindness, encouragement and generosity of others. During the twelve years following his mother’s death, he received financial assistance enabling him to attend boarding school, Kenyon College and Lehigh University. But more important, he believed was the love and guidance of family friends and especially caring and attentive teachers.

This stay-at-home and disquieting time during the weeks and months has offered all of us a time for reflection, and for most of us, a yearning to return to “normalcy”. Medical experts and political leaders are speculating about what will be the “new normal.”

In considering my grandfather’s formative years, it reminded me that there is no such state as “normal” for any of us. Accepting and adapting to what is, is the best we can do. This has always been true.

A person’s success in adapting is largely dependent on the feelings of safety and security provided by a connected environment—family, friends, school and community. When schools reopen, we have an opportunity and a responsibility to make that environment a priority for all children.