Attitude change and a ripple from Katrina

Sometimes attitude change comes gradually, a slow evolution.

Sometimes attitude change happens suddenly and because of a lack of other options, a forced change of view.

Sometimes attitude change comes from a specific event, a catalyst that changes perspective.

And so it was all three today at school, the first day of the 2005-06 school year, a day I had approached with little of the enthusiasm I had held in prior years. It was a day I did not dread, but it was also a day I did not celebrate. But this morning, as I awoke ready for a new term, I found that place inside -- a place we all have -- where I knew what this day was for, what my job is, how I had to change an attitude to move forward.

The change came gradually today. As I slowly got moving, showered, decided on the perfect shirt and tie for the first-day first impression, I felt myself changing attitude. By the time I was out the door and on my way to the grovery store to buy first-day snacks, I was bright-eyed and ready to tackle new challenges.

The change was forced today. In my awakening this morning, I knew I had to find the energy and enthusiasm that I owed my students and colleagues. I knew I needed to get there in a short time as classes were to begin in 90 minutes. I found that energy and enthusiasm, and I forced myself into a kick start. By the end of the first class, and continuing throughout the day, I gained momentum. At the end of the day I felt good about how I had started this year, my ninth.

The change came from a catalyst today. After my first class period, I stopped by the large classroom where the school's five counselors were working to repair, replace or construct schedules for dozens of waiting students. I knew the lines would be long all day, and I wanted to have an idea of the crowd. As I walked past the area, I greeted a counselor waiting in the hall with a student and adult. The counselor introduced me to a young man and said he was from Louisiana. In his Cajun-influenced speech, he told his story.

We chatted for a minute as he explained he had come from his town a few minutes south of New Orleans to Wenatchee to live with his aunt since his home was likely destroyed and his school was in unknown condition. Classes began about a month ago, he said; they ended abruptly last week. His mother is in the armed services, assigned to the area's relief efforts and moving locations frequently. He said his grandparents live in a rural area that was not close to a school. He did not mention his father.

So he sought his stable family in Wenatchee, thousands of miles away. I asked how long he thought he might be here in Wenatchee, and he said he expected to be here all year. If he did well and liked it, he said, he might complete his schooling here next year. Our school is already crowded this year with new students from all over, but we found room for one more student. How could we not? As I watched new programs tonight, I saw stories of similar situations in schools around the South, situations I knew would be replicated in schools around the country. Mothballed schools in Portland, Ore., are being readied for those who have fled the flood and devastation back home. Washington state has prepared for 2,000 "guests" -- people who will need food, shelter, comfort and, yes, education.

As I watched tonight on TV the compassion and sensitivity shown to the hurricane's victims as they entered new schools in Dallas and Houston, I found that place inside that changed my attitude for the year. It came both gradually and suddenly, from within and from a young man from New Orleans, but I found it.

-- Wenatchee, Wash.