Educators Recognized for Their Devotion
Arlington County, Alexandria Elementary Teachers Receive Meyer Awards

By Theresa Vargas
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, May 1, 2008

Ward Merritt begins every school year the same way. Standing in front of a roomful of wide-eyed second-graders, he tells them: "I have two jobs: to make sure that I keep you all safe and to see that all of you learn."

"A philosophy of teaching boiled down to 21 one-syllable, seemingly simple words," is how he described it recently.

But Merritt, 45, knows it is not that simple. Second grade, he will tell you, is a bridge between the primary years, when children are very much dependent on adults, and the upper grades, when they will be expected to show more independence. His students teeter between a curiosity about the unknown -- "Does weather exist in every country?" one student asked him -- and a need for familiarity, insisting that the schedule on the blackboard be followed.

"You can learn a lot by being quiet and listening to them," Merritt said, standing in front of this year's batch of 7- and 8-year-olds.

Merritt, who has taught at Randolph Elementary School for 13 years, is Arlington County's recipient of the Agnes Meyer Outstanding Teacher Award, from The Washington Post. He has occupied classroom A-121 the entire time, even as public schools have seen a decline in male teachers, with the number smallest at the elementary school level.

One of his former students, in a recommendation letter, remembered him as the "consistency" in her often "chaotic and inconsistent" life.

"Beyond the classroom and delving more deeply into my own personal experiences with this magnificent man, I sincerely feel that he gave more of his heart and time to us than most teachers would ever consider giving," Natasha Metts wrote. "I could always count on him to notice that I was going through something and to be there for me."

Wes McCune, 56, in neighboring Alexandria, is another male elementary school teacher who has no plans of leaving the classroom any time soon. He is also an Agnes Meyer recipient.

"As long as I am happy to get up in the morning and do this work, I will do it," he said.

A music teacher at John Adams Elementary School for the past 19 years, McCune developed the school's opera education program, which has been credited with helping raise scores on the Standards of Learning assessments, and he founded the school's Orff Ensemble. The ensemble meets an hour before school every day, with some students showing up half an hour early to head straight to instruments including the xylophone, metalphone and glockenspiel, McCune said.

Last Sunday, the group performed with the National Symphony Brass Quintet at the George Washington Masonic Memorial. They were ready, McCune said, adding that the children "all know their parts very, very well."

McCune began his teaching career just as discussion surfaced nationwide about cutting back music and arts in schools. As a result, he said, he felt compelled to demonstrate a link between music and improved academic performance. He started Orff with one third-grade class, which could be tracked academically. All the students showed improvement, he said.

The ensemble is made up of third-, fourth- and fifth-graders, some identified as musically gifted and others with emotional, behavioral or psychological difficulties, McCune said.

"My favorite students are those who . . . don't like music, and they don't want to do this. To me that's why I come to school every day, is to get to that child," McCune said. "It's wonderful to have extremely talented kids come in, but you think even if I left this child alone, they will probably figure this out and know what to do. The biggest reward for me is the other end of the spectrum."

He remembered how one boy could only get through the front door of the school before breaking down, unable to make it to his classroom. Officials eventually put him in McCune's class.

"He would come and have music for the hour, then he would let me walk him to his class," McCune said, adding that gradually the student stayed longer and longer in class. "Then eventually as his confidence gained, he was able to stay the whole day."

In recommendation letters, teachers, parents and administrators spoke glowingly about the effort McCune put into developing relationships with his students. One described his willingness to try new ways of reaching out, "even if it requires lying under a piano with a student."

"Mr. McCune isn't just any ordinary teacher," a former student wrote. "In my class and almost in the whole school, we have soft voices and shy expressions, but Mr. McCune teaches us to project our voices and to be more outgoing so that we can sing well."

Drawing students together to build a sense of community in the classroom was a topic both McCune and Merritt spoke about passionately.

"I'm not here for kids who are smart or kids who need extra help; it's all of them," Merritt said. "They know they are important to me."

Merritt, a grandson, son and brother of educators, did not leap directly into teaching. It took stepping into his sister's first-grade class in Prince George's County to propel the magazine editor and writer toward education as a career, he said.

"There was just a joy in her classroom," he said.

In Merritt's classroom, an oversized plush bear lounges on a wood-framed sofa, and paint-chipped bookshelves line the wall. An oriental rug covering the school's carpet has been rubbed to a fade. Merritt said he thinks that the classroom should be an extension of the home, that it should send the message that learning should be done everywhere.

On a recent Friday, his students sat at their desks, charged with the task of coloring flags. They were told to color each segment of the flag a different color and then determine how much of the whole that color occupies. In other words, do fractions.

Some reached for vibrant crayons to make original creations. Others saw three equally sized rectangles side by side and immediately thought of Mexico's or France's flags, reaching for the appropriate crayons.

"How come you can't do Peru?" Merritt asked Miguel Figueroa, 8. "What's the problem with Peru?"

Two of its segments are red, and the assignment called for using different colors, Merritt said, answering his own question.

"And 'cause it has a goat," Miguel added.

"No, it's not a goat, it's a llama," Merritt corrected softly. Both laughed.

In a class whose diversity crosses the globe, it is not unusual that a math lesson turns into a geography lesson. When Merritt approached another 8-year-old boy's desk, the student explained what Bangladesh's flag looks like. Another said "bonjour" to Merritt and started listing the colors of France's flag.

The children's families come from "Peru, Egypt, Ethiopia, Bolivia, Bangladesh and Thailand," Merritt said.

"How do you know all the countries," 8-year-old Ritavash Chowdhury asked, an awed expression across his face.

"'Cause I know you guys," Merritt answered.