Dear Dr. Falls
A remarkable man and friend died this week.
Before becoming a school principal, I was, of course, a teacher. In that time I worked directly for three principals. There were several assistant principals who were also very important, but for better or worse, a school principal sets the stage for hundreds and thousands of students and their teachers. Dr. Tim Falls was the second principal I worked with and for the longest time. For 10 years he guided, shepherded, mentored, and supported me (and literally a generation of other educators) as an educator and man. As I compose this it still feels surreal that he is no longer alive. Tim has been retired for 17 years, and there are few colleagues or families currently in our school district who remember him at all. Still, I couldn't let Tim's passing go without sharing a few thoughts.
Tim retired in 2007 after a long and full career in the Novi Community School District. He had been a chemistry teacher, an assistant principal at the middle school, as well as the principal at our 5th and 6th grade school, Novi Meadows. In his final spring, Novi Meadows earned a Blue Ribbon Award, and Tim, unfortunately, suffered a heart attack. When I learned of his retirement, I was not currently working at Novi Meadows. That's a long story, but I did write him a letter. Amazingly, I found a copy of that letter. I had to change a few names in order to protect privacy, (FYI--I replaced specific names with names of famous athletes from his beloved alma mater, The University of Michigan.)
Defining Tim Falls Moments in David Ascher’s Life
June 2007
June 1995—Being hired at Novi Meadows. I was young, cocky, and still very green behind the ears, and yet, you and Tom Harmon saw something in me. Once I got the job, Kim and I set our wedding date, bought property on which to build our home, and commenced to starting our lives together. You believed I could be a teacher. Thank you for believing in me.
November 1997—Mrs. Hirsch Do you remember her? Elroy Hirsch was a sweet kid, adopted by a retired 5th grade educator. Mrs. Hirsch definitely loved her children, and she let it be known that I was not teaching 5th grade the way she had taught fifth grade. She questioned why I was spending so much time on the civics benchmarks. With your guidance, I shared with Mrs. Hirsch that over a third of the 5th grade benchmarks were on civics, and I felt that meant we were covering the state content appropriately. Then, I still vividly remember cowering in the conference room after she stormed into your office while you assured Mrs. Hirsch that Elroy was getting the best education at Novi Meadows. That boost of confidence kept me soaring for years. Thank you for commending me.
August 1998—Pinckney. I was 27 and still pretty green and cocky. The superintendent from Pinckney called me about a principal position. You had given him my name. What were you thinking? After two interviews, I was offered the job. Kim and I did some serious soul searching. It just wasn’t the right time. You completely understood. Thank you for understanding how important my family is to me.
December 1999—Shared-Time Teaching. You didn’t want any more shared-time teams. I had talked with you over the months, but you still wouldn’t commit. Trisch Andrew and I marched ourselves into your office on our way out the door for Christmas vacation. You finally consented to add one more shared-time team at 6th grade. Soon afterwards, Kim’s father died unexpectedly, and our daughter Jennifer was born. Looking back, I needed to be shared-time in order to support Kim, her mother, and our new family. Thank you for the gift that got us through some extremely challenging years.
November 2003—National Boards. After e-mailing Kim, you were the first person I couldn’t wait to tell about my scores. Something happened through my National Board process. I became more concerned with data and reflecting on my practice as a professional educator. You were my sounding board, always there with suggestions or support. The discussions we’ve had about teaching and learning over the years have shaped who I am as an educator. I wanted to earn that certificate as much for you as for me. More importantly, I wanted to give you something back that showed my respect and admiration for what you meant to me professionally. Thank you for mentoring me professionally.
November 2004—Desmond Howard. I can’t possibly recount that year here. Again, you openly let Mr. and Mrs. Howard know that Desmond was getting the best support possible. The confidence you instilled in Naz Hillmon and myself helped us get through the year. Still, no other student in my career has left me with so many questions and struggles. How does the greater system serve all of the students? How does one student have the right to impact so many other students’ learning environments? How do we serve a student with Desmond’s gifts and challenges? What were we going to do? You didn’t have an answer. With tears in almost both sets of our eyes, you stood in the hall outside the 6th grade counseling office and admitted to me you did not know what to do. For the first time in almost 10 years, I came to know you were human. For once you didn’t have the answer for me. When it came to Desmond, we were equals. At the time, that shook me more than I thought it would. Thank you for being human.
June 2006—The Move. Who would’ve thought? Who would’ve ever guessed that there wouldn’t be a position for me at Novi Meadows? In my wildest imagination, I couldn’t ever have seen myself as a 1st grade teacher. After working with so many teammates and students, leading book studies, writing grants, participating in Galileo, completing two master’s degrees, earning my National Board certificate, attending and presenting at so many workshops, getting married, building a home, having two children, I feel like you’ve helped me grow up, and there I was crying in your office after I had either packed up or thrown away everything to prepare for my move to Parkview. Maybe I hadn’t grown up as much as I thought I had? Thank you for not thinking less of me.
May 2007—The Spectrum. The Blue Ribbon
high was still in the air. Even after your humble speech at the previous
school board meeting about how the Blue Ribbon Award was merely a testament to
all of the hard work the entire district does, most people fully understand
that the award was due to your leadership and guidance. That award is a
crowning achievement in your career. Finally, the e-mail came. You
were retiring. Good for you, but who would be my mentor? Who would
I talk to about issues and concerns, about teaching strategies, about the
latest Kappan article? Still, you’ve earned it. It’s time
for me to look for new possibilities. You’ve always been my #1 fan for an
administrative position. While I don’t know what the future will bring
for me, I know you’ll always be on my short list for guidance, suggestions, and
affirmation.
Still, there’s more. What a great opportunity to celebrate with Naz Hillmon as the NEF Teacher of the Year! Would any of us be the teachers we are today without you? I know you would say otherwise, but I am the educator I am today because of these defining moments, because of your constant devotion to student achievement, because of your subtle suggestions and support, because of your leadership.
Two weeks ago Naz called sharing you had suffered a heart attack. Tim, you’re my North Star! You’re not supposed to be mortal. We’ve talked about our parents a lot over the years. I’ve always admired how you have helped your parents. I live 7 hours away from my father. In some uncanny way, you’ve filled a void for me. And while we’ve never discussed our faiths, you know how I stand, and I know how you stand. Your pretzel (an ancient Christian symbol of praying hands) tie tack has been an inspiration to me. I’ve always assumed you’ve worn that tie tack as a simple symbol of your belief in Jesus. Someday, when the time is right, I’d love to talk with you about that tie tack. I can’t remember a time when you haven’t had it on. After Naz called, I prayed for you. My girls prayed for you. Thank you for your faith.
The Future I’m not so young anymore,
and I don’t think I’m all that cocky. I know for a fact that I’m not
nearly as green as I was over ten years ago. More importantly, you’re
really retiring, and I bet after your heart attack you have an entirely new perspective
on the future. I know my future will not be entirely in first
grade. For the first time ever, I believe my future might not even be in
Novi. Tim, you’ve made a huge impact in my life. I won’t write
anything more that may embarrass myself, but let’s agree to have a long future
together. Let’s agree to not lose touch. Let’s agree to make sure
that the best really is yet to come. Thank you for being you.
Postlude: That pretzel shaped tie tack was actually from his time working at The Pretzel Bar in Ann Arbor. Ha!! Also, I did not realize when I wrote the above note to Tim that I would become a school principal in Novi for the next 16 years. Tim went on to enjoy Michigan athletics, golfing, and traveling with his lovely wife. We were never as close as we were when he and I were working together, but he would often check-in on me and remind me to look out for my health and family. While we didn't always agree politically, we did agree that teachers and principals make a difference.
I last saw Tim in October. We laughed and hugged. He was excited to travel to Florida for the winter. I, however, choose to remember Tim the way he looked in 2006--before his heart attack, before social media, before becoming a school administrator myself, when life seemed simpler, and he and I went fishing on Lake Erie.
Rest in peace, Dr. Tim Falls.
You made a difference.
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