Philip II of Macedonia dreamed of uniting the ancient Greek city-states and conquering the Persian Empire. After his untimely assassination, his son, later dubbed Alexander the Great by historians, fulfilled his father’s dream. Alexander, a lover of all things Greek, spread Greek culture to much of the known world and played no small role in delivering Greek culture to the Modern Age. This period beginning with Alexander’s death, when Greek culture spread to the non-Greek world, is known as the Hellenistic Era.
I can’t imagine having done something so awesome in history to be bestowed the moniker “The Great” (However, Kate the Great does have a nice ring to it.) or even have a period dedicated to my legacy. Just a few days ago, I watched an interview being conducted with Oprah Winfrey. Winfrey told the interviewer about a conversation she had had with her late mentor, Maya Angelou. She was telling Angelou about the girl’s leadership school she was building in South Africa. She explained to Angelou that she believed her school would be her legacy. Oprah said that Maya in her “Maya way” told Winfrey that she had no idea what her legacy would be. Her mentor went on to tell her, “Your legacy is not one thing. Your legacy is what you do every day. Your legacy is every life you’ve touched; every person you have moved.”
This blog post has nothing to do with Alexander the Great, Oprah Winfrey, or Maya Angelou, but it is about the legacy one leaves. In my early morning scroll of Facebook, I came across the obituary of Dr. Dorothy Brandt who died on Christmas Eve at the age of 91. Dr. Brandt for many years served as a professor of Education at Presbyterian College and was also the head of its department. I, being an alumnus of Newberry College, try my best to stay away from the wearers of blue hose, but for Dr. Brandt, I will make an exception. I have had only one encounter with Dr. Brandt. I was in the fourth grade at Clinton Elementary School. My teacher Margaret Randall had a student teacher from PC. Her name was Miss Edwards and she was awesome. She was as loving and dynamic as Mrs. Randall, which were incredibly large shoes to fill, she was the official scorekeeper for our playground kickball games, and if I were to close my eyes right now, I could still see her 20-something-year-old face. Dr. Brandt, being an education professor, came to observe our very own Miss Edwards. I can’t remember if Miss Edwards promised us extra recess for good behavior or if we just wanted to do a great job for her while her teacher watched, but we were excellent. Dr. Brandt sat at a small table at the back of the classroom–inconspicuous and nonintrusive. We students were so enthralled with Miss Edwards’ lesson that we didn’t even hear Dr. Brandt leave, but I’ll never forget what she left. On the chalkboard at the back of the room where she had been sitting, she wrote a note that said, “Dear class, y’all are a teacher’s dream. Well done, Miss Edwards.” I remember our class celebrating, and I’m sure, once being a student teacher myself, that Miss Edwards was a bit relieved.
In reading Dr. Brandt’s obituary this morning, I took umbrage to the line that said she was a former educator at Presbyterian College. Yes, she was indeed a professor of Education at PC, but a former educator she is not. At this moment, Dr. Brandt may very well be regaling the angels about her days in the classroom, but the fingerprints of her calling are still on all she touched. My school district, Laurens County School District 56, has benefited greatly from Dr. Brandt, with many of our teachers being products of her classroom as well as other school districts around this country. Every college and university’s education department could benefit from Dr. Brandt’s style of leadership–one that created prepared and excellent teachers. The web of her influence has connections all across this planet–each strand representative of a student who went on to teach whether it be in a classroom or in the class called Life. I come from a long line of educators, many of whom would count Dr. Brandt a Legend in the Art of Teaching. Wouldn’t it be cool if we started calling this the Brandt Era–The period in which the art of teaching, the call to enlighten, spread to the uneducated world? Dr. Brandt’s seven-sentence obituary, as inconspicuous and nonintrusive as she, doesn’t even begin to detail her legacy.
I think Maya Angelou was right. One’s legacy is not just one thing. One’s legacy is what one does every day. One’s legacy is every life one has touched and every person one has moved. A legacy can be as simple as a note inscribed into a 4th grader’s memory.
What a teacher’s dream. Well done, Dr. Brandt.
Chronicles of a Mini Pearl 