I attended a meeting in Murfreesboro for work today. Amid the very useful information presented, there was reference made to the state’s past practice of providing Exemplary Educators (EEs) to schools deemed as in danger of failing academically under the former federal No Child Left Behind (NCLB) Act.
My mind went back to the fall of 2002 when I was reassigned after seven happy years as principal of Sharps Chapel Elementary to become principal of Luttrell Elementary. I began my teaching career at Luttrell and stayed as a teacher there for eight years. I transferred to Sharps Chapel as principal from Luttrell. I had been gone from Luttrell for seven years, and a lot of those I worked with at Luttrell when I was a teacher had moved to other schools/districts/retirement/death. I became Luttrell’s principal with a few friends still on staff.
Luttrell was on a state school improvement list, moving toward state takeover in future if student academic achievement did not improve. I knew that when I became principal, but little else. One thing I had learned at Sharps Chapel I brought back to Luttrell—things are different on the back side of the principal’s desk than on the outside looking in.
There were other things about Luttrell that had changed in seven years. Some of them turned out to be pleasant, though unexpected.
School Secretary Susan Inklebarger informed me one day that a gentleman named Dr. Sam Shepherd was there to see me. Dr. Shepherd was a kindly man with a rosy complexion, wire-rimmed glasses, white hair and a meticulously groomed white beard. Had his beard been longer, he could have been a look-alike Santa Claus. Dr. Shepherd introduced himself to me as Luttrell’s “Exemplary Educator”.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Dr. Shepherd was surprised that the state had not informed me of his assignment to the school. He explained that the state had appointed him as a successful, retired educator to assist the school on a part-time basis in improvement of student academic achievement. The intent was to prevent the necessity of takeover of the school by the state department of education.
I learned to appreciate Dr. Shepherd throughout that school year. He was well-received by the school staff. Dr. Shepherd proved to have a wealth of experience and access to resources that would have otherwise have been unknown to us. I remember most notably that he helped the school obtain a certified librarian via AmeriCorps. He was a wise confidant who would listen to my concerns and those of the faculty and staff, then work with us all to understand and appreciate the needs of each other. He did this skillfully, never letting negativity of any person toward another interfere with working relationships.
Many schools had EEs, and not all of the encounters proved successful. I will always believe that God sent Dr. Shepherd to Luttrell at a time of crisis to be an instrument for success.
Dr. Shepherd and I served Luttrell during school year 2002-2003. The school did “come off” the school improvement list for the following school year. I wouldn’t credit myself one iota for that accomplishment—rather, I would say that achievement increased in spite of the shortcomings of the principal. I was just blessed to sit in the principal’s chair when the students and faculty/staff demonstrated an ability and desire to succeed. I would attribute that success in part to the spirit of community that the Luttrell area has always possessed. Much credit is also due to the hard work of the faculty, staff, students, and parents. I recognize Dr. Sam Shepherd for being a decisive force in bringing all of these groups of stakeholders together to positively impact the greater good of the community.
Not only was Dr. Shepherd an “exemplary educator”, he was an accomplished musician. He brought his musical talents to the school to help celebrate that successful year.
Any success any of us have experienced results in great part from a congenial, meaningful relationship. For what success I’ve enjoyed, I am indebted to far too many people to list. One of Dr. Shepherd’s greatest gifts to me was the humor and friendship we shared, which made the difficult year of transitioning as principal from one school to another less stressful. I don’t think any principal new to a school enters with one hundred percent approval, and I was no exception. I even sensed hatred on the part of some. I remember in particular both Dr. Shepherd and I were “ratted out” by a teacher to a board member for taking part of a work day to attend the graveside service of a former Union County educator, my former Headstart teacher Edna Loy.
Dr. Shepherd and I exchanged war stories. He had been the assistant superintendent in a district for about a dozen years. In that position he was loved by the school boards with which he worked. When Tennessee began appointing rather than electing directors of schools, Dr. Shepherd was appointed director. He told me it took about two years for the board that appointed him to “run him off”.
I was rewarded for Luttrell’s success by being involuntarily transferred to be assistant principal of another school the following year. Dr. Shepherd was sent to be EE at another school after Luttrell was no longer in danger of state takeover. NCLB is now only a memory for a few of us dinosaurs who still are employed as public school educators and has been replaced by a other reforms (ESEA, ESSA, ESSER).
In recent years I have lost contact with Dr. Shepherd. His wife passed away, and he has suffered health and other misfortune since our time at Luttrell. Dr. Shepherd was there at a point in life when I had a need. I will never believe he appeared by accident.
And it is also no accident that Dr. Shepherd has also reached out to you, Dear Faithful Reader. Dr. Shepherd introduced me to another fine gentleman, a former employee of the Tennessee Department of Education, Dr. Ted Beach. Dr. Beach has been my “email buddy” for around twenty years, and it is to him that I owe many of the tidbits from my email world that I share with you. In appreciation for the great gift of friendship these two men have provided me, I leave you now with some of those thoughts.

When you get to Heaven,
God won't ask what your job title was.
He'll ask if you performed your job to the best of your ability.

God won't ask how many friends you had.
He'll ask how many people to whom you were a friend.

Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.

Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.

I didn't like my beard at first. Then it grew on me.