Sometimes I worry about being ineffective
Harold made sure that wasn’t a problem this week
Sometimes I worry that with my busy life and hectic schedule, I don’t do a good enough job at anything that I do. It’s a discouragement tactic that Satan uses against me regularly – convincing me that my business has neutered my effectiveness. And that’s a fear I have across the board. From my home to my church to my writing to my podcasting to my job as a high school teacher.
Specifically on that last point, I remember the days early on in my teaching career where I would get to school at 7:30 am and then be there until at least 7 pm. Every day. I had no family of my own, was involved announcing and coaching and volunteering at a million different events at the school, and spent hours creating power point lectures, handouts, and a ton of other things to use in class.
With three kids and three careers, I don’t have the time to do all that anymore. And so even though I still put a lot of time into classroom things, and try to create meaningful moments, I certainly don’t feel as proficient at that as I used to be. But this last week? I think I nailed it.
Well, I didn’t really nail anything, but I brought in a guy who nailed it.
Before my Grandpa died a few years ago, my mom would bring him in one day every year to talk to my students about World War II. It was funny, like a lot of those guys who served in the war, he never talked a lot about it until his time on earth started to grow short. Toward the latter years of his life, the war was almost all he talked about – perhaps a window into just how much those kinds of traumatic memories dominate our subconscious and affect us deeply, even if we don’t fully realize it.
A few years ago, it just became impossible for Grandpa to make it in. He was still living physically, but his mind was dying. It was hard to watch as a grandson, of course, but it was also such a sad day for my classroom. There’s nothing that I can teach about the war that wouldn’t stick much better and linger much longer in their minds than hearing from the men or women who lived it.
Which is why it was unquestionably a Godsend when I met Harold McCreary. He’s a member of my community who I didn’t even know existed until a chance meeting arranged by a former student. Isn’t that always the truth – heroes are all around you and you don’t even know it. Harold is a D-Day veteran who helped navigate the LC (landing craft) boats across the English Channel on June 6, 1944, carrying the Marines and Army soldiers who would storm the beaches that fateful day.
He shared his experiences and told the students about so many things:
The fact that the shell of their boat was nothing more than a quarter of an inch piece of metal.
How the soldiers they carried to storm the beaches had to stand for the 8-hour trip across the Channel that morning.
That he poked his head out of the hatch one time as they were unloading soldiers at Normandy, and that the only thing that he could liken it to was a swarm of bees. The sound of bullets whizzing past his head from the merciless German machine gun fire made it sound that way.
How the Germans had used low tide to stick metal spikes in the ground pointing toward the beach. During the invasion the LC boats would pass over the top of them, but when they went to back up and leave, their hulls would be pierced and they would get stuck. That had a two-pronged effect: (1) it stranded the boats and soldiers that were on them; (2) it blocked access to the shallow water for subsequent waves of soldiers.
But even more than that, he told them about his time during training in Virginia when he would take a train on Friday nights back to Cincinnati, then hitchhike his way to his home in southern Indiana where he could see his 17-year-old high school girlfriend (he was 18 at the time). They got married when he was on leave and were married for just under 70 years before she died.
I’m telling you, there’s nothing I could have shown them on video, nothing I could have read to them from a book, nothing I could re-enacted for them that in any way would have been as impactful. So let me just encourage you to seek out these men and listen to their stories while we still have the opportunity. Almost 250 WWII heroes die every day, and of Harold’s D-Day group, only about 2500 remain. Find them, appreciate them, love them, and learn from them.
My students in that history class will be lucky to remember a fraction of the things, events, dates, and figures that I’ve attempted to teach them this year. We all forget what we learned – especially in history class. But I don’t think they’ll ever forget their time with Harold.
I’ll just let the painted words in my classroom above the kids’ heads in that picture say all that needs to be said.
ICYMI…
The left’s reaction to the Roe v. Wade news has been predictably crazy. I address some of it in this video:
Also, here are two columns I wrote that I think might be meaningful to you:
This brings back memories of listening to my grandfather talk about his time as a navigator on a B-29 over the pacific. He passed away when I was in college 15 years ago, but he talked about sitting at his desk on the plane as explosions erupted around. He just worked to keep them on course. It will be a sad day when we lose our last member of that Great generation.
Loved hearing about your students reaction to Harold. My mother and aunt were teenagers and best friends during WWII. I invited them to speak to my history students so they understood the sacrifices teens and their families made during this time. I always learned new things about both of them and grew to appreciate them even more. I learned my mom’s boyfriend went AWOL to visit her. The questions my students asked were insightful with a bit of unbelief too. Hopefully you can find some who were teens during this time. My mom is a lively 94 years old but living in Carmel. A little to far for her to travel and then speak to your class. Your memo is a much anticipated email. I have learned much from you. Thank you. Debbie