Retiring (again) after living two dreams

Newly retired teacher Michael Arrieta-Walden says teaching students English was gratifying because the children worked so hard and took pride in their progress.

By Michael Arrieta-Walden

I retired this summer — again.

I was fortunate to have two careers. As I retire for a second time, I am reflecting on both of my careers, and my overwhelming feeling is that I am grateful. I consider myself the luckiest person in the world to have lived two dreams.

I worked as a journalist for almost 30 years and then as a teacher for 15 years. To anyone who is considering changing careers, I urge you to go for it. We only have one life. 

I actually flirted with multiple careers, the result of either my chronic attention deficit disorder or simply a lot of interests. During my adult years I also seriously considered becoming a public aid attorney, a history professor and a doctor. 

But I landed on journalism and education. I think I loved them both because they both offered a way to help people and an opportunity to learn every day.

As a journalist, you never knew what each day would bring. With each new story you had to become an instant expert on topics ranging from wildfires to government bonds to local crime. As an elementary school teacher, you not only had to learn how to teach a variety of subjects, you had to respond to the constantly changing needs of your students. And I found I was always learning from them as well.

When I was a journalist, I had so much fun that I often thought, “I can’t believe I get paid to do this!”

As a cub reporter, I had the opportunity to pair up with another reporter, Phil Manzano, to investigate abuses of undocumented workers in Oregon’s forestry industry. The reporting was challenging and exciting. We toured remote camps for tree planters and migrant camps for families. We visited workers in shoddy, rundown housing. We were chased down Mount Hood by angry contractors. Most importantly, our work made a difference. Our series led to congressional hearings and new contracting rules to protect workers. Early in my career, I had a vivid experience of how journalism could make a difference.

Left: When The Albuquerque Tribune won a Pulitzer Prize in 1994, the newsroom of the small newspaper erupted with joy. Right: Sharing laughter at a team stand-up was a daily ritual at The Oregonian.

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But I decided to become a teacher because I wanted to have a direct impact on people’s lives. I was not disappointed.

As an elementary school teacher, you receive so much love from your students. The smallest act makes such a difference.

One of my favorite moments was when I helped organize a trip to the beach in Oregon for our fifth-graders. I witnessed unbridled joy when the students hiked through the trees to Oswald West State Park, and the ocean opened up before them. For many, it was the first time they had seen the ocean. As one student wrote at the end of the year, their favorite experience was  “going to the beach. It was the first time that I went to the beach and it was so much fun.”

But the two professions are radically different.

A newsroom is like no other place. It’s full of people who are intelligent, curious and aggressive. It is a constant buzz of activity, and it can turn electric in a moment. Journalists can often be cynical and hardened; they must have thick skins to ask tough questions and face relentless criticism.

In contrast, a school is often full of the nicest people you could work with. Unlike journalists, they often lack the confidence to assert themselves. But they are resilient, and no matter how rough the day before has been and despite how little they are paid, most start each day with optimism.

As an elementary school teacher, a simple walk down the hallway can be interrupted by an ambush of hugs.

More than 30 students came to school early each day at Laredo Elementary School in Aurora, Colorado to learn English as part of the school’s English Breakfast Club.

Throughout my teaching career, I often have been asked if I missed journalism.

I did, every day. I have especially missed it as journalists have come under attack and newspapers have declined. Widespread conspiracy theories and false narratives, such as the bogus claims about the 2020 election results, make journalism’s pursuit of truth all the more important. 

Yet my life was so enriched by teaching.

If I had never left journalism I never would have met Jose, whose parents came to Oregon from Mexico seeking a better life for him and his sister. He worked hard to honor their bravery. I would never have seen the perseverance of two sisters whose parents cleaned buildings at night, so they did homework and slept in the family car at night. I would never have been told by a graduating senior that the help I secured for her in fourth grade enabled her to graduate. I would not have had the chance to teach dozens of students their first words in English, or to teach English to their grateful immigrant parents.

What a privilege!

So always follow your heart. You just might find more treasures, like I did.

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Michael Arrieta-Walden lives in Denver, Colorado with his wife, Fran, who was willing to sustain a huge drop in income when he chose teaching. Mike retired as an elementary school teacher in Aurora Public Schools in July and left The Oregonian in Portland, Oregon in 2008 as a managing editor.

Editor’s note: I was fortunate to work with Mike in two newsrooms — in Salem, where he made a fabulous first impression as a college intern, and in Portland, where he and his wife landed after I helped recruit them to The Oregonian. Mike is too modest to mention that he was the editor on the Pulitzer-winning stories in Albuquerque that related the experiences of Americans who had been used unknowingly in government radiation experiments nearly 50 years ago. When he left The Oregonian to pursue teaching, we knew he’d make just as big an impact in the classroom as in the newsroom. You can see that he did.

Tomorrow: Lynn St. Georges, “Return to sender”

A daughter finds her home on the range

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By Michael Arrieta-Walden

 As a parent, you raise a child with visions of their future. 

 Then they build lives that are entirely different, and even more amazing than you imagined. 

  This is partly a classic story of a city mouse becoming a country mouse. But it also is a story of a father realizing that his daughter soared — despite his misguided and overbearing parenting. 

 Our daughter Maya graduated from college focused on communications and political science. She interned for a congressman in Washington, D.C. and at congressional office in San Diego. After graduation she headed back to Washington, D.C., and joined a communications and research firm, worked on a presidential campaign, and wrote for then-House Speaker Paul Ryan. 

 As the daughter of two journalists she was living the life I’d envisioned –  but maybe not the one she desired. 

My daughter, Maya Arrieta-Walden, loved working for then-House Speaker Paul Ryan at the nation’s Capitol.

Fast-forward three years: She and her boyfriend manage two cows, seven chickens and a robust garden on 20 acres in rural Colorado. She also works at a veterinary clinic while taking classes toward a vet tech license. 

She has traded researching tax policy and writing press releases for bucking hay and administering vaccines to animals. 

Maya could not be happier. And I could not feel more humbled or proud. 

 I confess I could be described as a helicopter parent. I relentlessly rode my daughter about school and grades. It was expected she would go to college. And I encouraged her to pursue power and influence in Washington. 

But she was brave enough to learn that that life was not the one she wanted. The one that I had envisioned was not hers to live. 

So, she abandoned the nation’s capital for Colorado. After initially considering nursing, she decided she would be happier caring for animals than humans. 

She’s been agile enough to move beyond being adept in politics and writing to mastering scientific studies. Her schooling and work have immersed her in anatomy, pathology and behavioral science. 

Instead of writing speeches and press releases, she examines blood smears for disease, gives vaccinations to wary dogs and cats, and coaches pet owners on critter behavior. 

Our urban-raised daughter says she now can’t imagine living in a city again. Instead, she rises each morning before dawn to feed animals and watches the sun rise on the eastern plains of Colorado. At day’s end, she collects eggs, refills the water trough, and pitches hay while watching the sun set in a sky of majestic pinks and purples. 

The journey for her was not easy, especially because of me. 

Shortly after she was born, I was working with a volatile reporter who complained that I was too controlling. She said she had made all but a couple of the changes I had suggested for her story, so why was I insisting on the remaining ones? After throwing her notebook across the room, she yelled, “I feel sorry for your daughter. She won’t have any freedom.” 

At the time, I was taken aback by what she said, and all but dismissed it. But the incident has stayed with me, and now I see that the reporter might have been prophetic. 

I spent way too much time worrying about Maya’s academics and future. I rationalized doing that so she would have future opportunities. I was often fixated on her homework and her grades. I imposed too many of my desires in her college search and selection. I set expectations that, frankly, were more about my goals than hers. 

I now see I was way too obsessive. But even more important, unlike my wife, Fran, I didn’t display enough faith in my daughter. I thought I knew what was best for her. I wasn’t confident enough that she could find a successful path.  

What I should have realized was that she would find her way, she would thrive at whatever path she chose. 

I also should have anticipated that it might take time for her to find her passion. After all, I switched from journalism to teaching at age 50! 

Maya says that she loves the rhythm and responsibility of rising each morning for chores, and is grateful for the natural beauty that surrounds her. She also sees her new career more as a new chapter rather than a new life. “I think it’s gratifying in a different way than what I used to do because you are still trying to help people, but you get to see more immediate and tangible results,” she says. 

I sometimes look at Maya and marvel at who she has become, an even more incredible adult than I envisioned. Most of all, I now revel in her happiness. And I enjoy the fresh eggs! 

***

Michael Arrieta-Walden

Michael Arrieta-Walden is a teacher in Aurora, Colorado. He and his wife Fran mostly raised Maya in Portland, where Mike was a managing editor and Fran was a copy editor at The Oregonian. Unlike Maya, her parents could not begin to drive a tractor, tell the difference between a chicken and a rooster, or herd a cow.   

Editor’s note: I’ve known Mike since I was a young reporter at the Statesman Journal in Salem, Oregon. He was a college intern then; over the next three decades he became a top-rank editor in Albuquerque, N.M.; Olympia, Wash.; and Portland, Ore. It was a huge pleasure to recruit him and Fran to The Oregonian and then see him launch into a second career as an elemeentary school teacher.

Tomorrow: Tammy Ellingson, Summer school with Dad

Students deserve a teacher revolution

During the past school year, students missed out on field trips like this one to the University of Colorado school of pharmacy.

By Michael Arrieta-Walden

Students and teachers face a steep uphill climb now after a year of interrupted learning. To me, the challenge seems daunting. 

 But then I think about my students. 

 I think about the boy who fled violence in Honduras with only his father, leaving his mother behind; he was always eager to solve the most difficult math problems. I think about the girl who came from Guatemala with only her mother, with no belongings, but who never stopped trying to learn the English alphabet. I think of the girl from the Marshall Islands who lost family to COVID, yet who would cheerfully answer questions about what she was reading. 

 I know that the learning loss from the past year was severe. I know that students will need to scramble to catch up. I know mental health experts are worried about the trauma of that lost year. 

 But what the pandemic taught me, what gives me hope, is that children are resilient. They are incredibly strong. So many have overcome so much that I have faith in their strength to rise to the challenge. 

I teach many immigrant students and I never stop marveling at their grit, perseverance and desire. They have endured and overcome more in their short lives than most of us will in a lifetime. I know they will embrace the challenges posed by an interrupted school year. 

They should be an inspiration for us to radically change how we meet their needs. In this upcoming year teachers have a challenge, but more critically, we have an opportunity. 

 After a year of mostly digital instruction, most teachers and students will be physically back in the classroom. 

 But education should no longer be the same. 

 As difficult as the past year was for teachers, we learned that we can radically change, for the better, how we teach. 

 We can better harness technology. Teachers and students gained technological skills last year that can open up new worlds for both. 

 We can better connect to parents. We were in more homes and for longer — if virtually — than we have ever been. We know more about our kids’ families than we ever have. 

We can better teach in a way that meets students where they are. Teaching through the pandemic demanded extra effort to reach them, and we can keep stretching ourselves to achieve that. 

We can teach more creatively. The pandemic required us to be creative in how we presented material to engage students.There was no going through the motions. 

We can better teach the “whole child.” When teaching in the pandemic, we became more conscious of the social and emotional challenges that sometimes keep students from learning. We learned how to address those so students can be ready to learn. 

We can better teach with rigor and to high standards. If we can teach challenging material in the face of the revolving demands of hybrid, in-person and remote learning, we can embrace the challenge of supporting students in their efforts to meet ever-higher standards.  

We can better prioritize what we teach. With the limits of digital learning, we had to narrow our focus. Our teaching had more clarity and students benefited from going deeper rather than broader. 

We can better feed students. Our food workers were phenomenal last year, providing thousands of meals to families despite students not being in school. Our students need not go hungry. 

We can better teach with equity at the forefront of our thinking. After a year of racial reckoning, the inequalities in education have become more apparent and the need to address them more urgent. 

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we can stop saying, ”We have always done it that way.” We changed everything last year; we can change again. 

And the times demand that. 

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  Students construct a gingerbread house. Joy needs to return to classrooms.

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  Teachers and students hope to resume team projects like this engineering activity.

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  Students hopefully will be able to explore the outdoors again this year.

Students had to adapt in many ways last year such as remaining distant in the classroom and forgoing field trips.

A survey found that more than 97% of educators reported seeing learning loss in their students over the past year when compared with previous years, and 57% of educators estimated their students are behind by more than three months in their social-emotional progress. In addition, students of color were disproportionately hurt by the lack of in-person learning. And truth be told, educators simply lost track of thousands of students across the country. 

As teachers face these challenges, we need only look to students to realize we owe them a revolution. Students like a girl from Guatemala who worked hard in her digital classroom, despite the clatter of her mother’s restaurant workplace. Or the boy from Honduras who kept doing his schoolwork in cars and hotel rooms as his father moved around for work. Or the many students who juggled caring for siblings and solving math problems. 

As school doors reopen this fall, I know students will be ready to learn again. But will educators seize the new day?

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Michael Arrieta-Walden is a former journalist who teaches at Laredo Elementary School in Aurora (Colorado) Public Schools. He and his wife, Fran, live in Denver.

Editor’s note: I’ve known Mike since he was a college intern at the Statesman Journal in Salem, Oregon. It didn’t surprise me at all that he became an award-winning reporter and editor, nor did it surprise me and my peers when he left The Oregonian several years ago to pursue a second career as a teacher. The man has a heart of gold.

Tomorrow: Cultivating curiosity | Jina S. Bazzar

The treasure of diversity

By Michael Arrieta-Walden

I walked into my school in Denver to start a new year, and felt blessed again: My students are from all over the world. 

When I hear those who spew hate, I think back on how fortunate I have been in the past year. I wish they could have spent the year with me. They would have learned about the treasure of diversity. They would have seen that our differences make us better, they enrich us. 

After 24 years in Portland, my wife, Fran, and I decided to move closer to my parents. We made the leap to Denver last summer. When we first arrived, however, we thought we had traded Portland for more of the same. Both cities are in incredible natural settings. Both cities are booming with high tech and hipsters. Both cities have soaring housing prices, propelling gentrification. 

Yet as much as I miss Portland friends (and the beach), moving to Denver has given me another gift in my late years – diversity. 

Students at Denver’s Swansea Elementary share a laugh together.

As a liberal white male, I think I had an intellectual appreciation for diversity. I even worked in a relatively diverse school in the Portland area. I advocated for diverse voices as a journalist. I recognized my white privilege. 

But in Denver, I’ve grown to truly live and appreciate what it means to value diversity. Throughout the past year, I have spent most of my time in the minority. From grocery stores to school hallways, from restaurants to my own classroom, I have been surrounded by a rich tapestry of people of color. 

Our mayor is African American and the leader of the school district is a Latina who went to Denver Public Schools. You can hear Spanish throughout the city. At Mass in Aurora, statements are read denouncing the climate of fear for migrants and refugees created by the federal government. And many prayers are said for migrants and refugees seeking better treatment and to tout the many gifts immigrants bring to our country. 

I am probably sounding like a naïve do-gooder who has encountered people of color for the first time. That is not the case. What I’m trying to share is that my experiences in the past year have had a profound effect on me. It is not so much a matter of better understanding white privilege. It’s more that I have been privileged by my experiences.  I am a better person for them. My perspective has broadened, my empathy has deepened and I feel much richer. And it is because of diversity. 

At my first school in Denver, the students were mostly Latino. But even more amazing was that the staff was incredibly diverse. Most of the teachers and administrators were Latino. Working with such a diverse staff taught me so much. From native Denver Latinos to teachers from throughout Latin America, my colleagues taught me a lot about different cultures, and more about myself.  

The stories of many of my fellow teachers were inspiring. They came from Colombia, Venezuela and Mexico. They not only learned English, they pursued advanced degrees so they could teach students. Now, they are helping students soar. 

Their strong teaching skills are enhanced by their amazing language abilities and cultural understanding. They collaborated instead of competed. They warmly created a team. They are making a difference in so many children’s lives. It was an honor to work with them.  

Now, I teach in the Aurora School District, which pointedly celebrates its diversity as its strength. The district proudly declares on its web site: “Our students come from more than 130 countries and speak more than 160 languages.” In the district, fewer than 15 percent of the schoolchildren are white. The city, a suburb of Denver, notes that one in five residents are considered either immigrants or refugees. 

After only one week with my new class, I am humbled and excited. I hope my students will learn a lot. But I know that I will learn and grow because of them and their families. I will gain more empathy and insight. I will be transported outside of my own narrow world. 

My students from throughout the world are a gift to me. I know they will make America great. 

Michael Arrieta-Walden

Michael Arrieta-Walden is a fourth grade teacher at Laredo Elementary School in Aurora, Colorado. He formerly taught in the Tigard-Tualatin School District and was a managing editor at The Oregonian. He and his wife Fran have a daughter, Maya.  

Editor’s note: Way back when I worked at a Salem newspaper, my colleagues and I were blown away by an exceptionally talented intern out of Northwestern University. That was Mike. He became a star reporter, then a well-regarded editor in Washington, New Mexico (where he edited a Pulitzer Prize-winning project) and Oregon. After leaving journalism, he became a school teacher, as ever defined by his passion, empathy and humility.

Tomorrow: Kate Carroll de Gutes |On meaning, memory, and desire

Making a better life for all of us

Students at Tigard’s Metzger Elementary School, many of whom are from immigrant families, are eager to learn.

By Michael Arrieta-Walden

The mother of two listened intently as the speaker described what documents parents should prepare in case an immigration action separated them from their children.

The potential nightmare for any parent was a real possibility for this mom.

She was among about 75 parents at an event put on by our school to provide families with information and resources. While we wanted to reduce fears for families with information, that was unrealistic.

For the mother of two, fear resurfaces daily, each time her husband drives to and from work. He has no legal documents, so she worries that in today’s climate a traffic stop could lead to deportation. Her fears are common among immigrant families.

I’ve asked her how she copes with that fear; it’s her belief in family that carries her. As long as the family is together, she says, they will be fine – no matter where they are.

But I think of what a huge loss it would be for my school community and our nation if families like hers are sent away.

Like many others, she and her husband came seeking a better life for their children. They are among the most dedicated parents I’ve worked with in eight years of teaching.

Although she works many hours cleaning people’s houses, she and her husband regularly volunteer at school. With their limited wages, they support their children with after-school activities.

They also are diligent about tracking the kids’ progress in school and holding them accountable for their homework. They insist they behave. And they always volunteer for community service projects and events at school.

These parents are valuable, contributing members of our school community. Their children will be productive adults in the future. Their deportation would be a loss for all of us.

Thanks to the rich diversity at the school, Multicultural Night is the biggest event of the year at Metzger Elementary School.

But their story is not unusual. Many of our families at Metzger Elementary School in Tigard give more than they take from the community. They are building our future.

You also see it throughout our school district. We rely on the students of Tigard High School’s MEChA and Intercambio programs to help with school nights and other projects. Those students are amazing and committed to community service. They are eager to help others. I am excited to see how much they will contribute after gaining a college education.

Many come from families who wanted to make a better life in America, but what they also are doing is making a better life for all of us in America.

What I marvel at is how much our families have endured to start anew here. I don’t think I would have the courage to do that.

Perhaps that is why, when I listened to the speakers describe how you should designate someone to oversee your children, I felt sick to my stomach. But the mother of two was a sea of calm.

“Estaremos bien,” she said. We will be all right.

Photographs: Michael Arrieta-Walden

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Michael Arrieta-Walden

Michael Arrieta-Walden teaches fifth grade and has been teaching for seven years. Before teaching, he was a journalist for almost 30 years. He and his wife, Fran, live in Portland and have one daughter Maya, who lives in Washington, D.C.

From the author: The primary group that helped immigrants at our school is the Latino Network. If you would like to learn more about the group, donate or volunteer, you can go to their web site at http://www.latnet.org/

Editor’s note: I’ve known Mike since I was a young reporter at the Statesman Journal in Salem, Oregon. He was an even younger reporter — a college intern at the time — and all of us could see he had the passion, tenacity and empathy to become a first-rate journalist. Those same traits were on display when he later became a newsroom editor in Albuquerque, N.M.; Olympia, Wash.; and Portland, Ore. — and they are evident now in the classroom.

Tomorrow: Cynthia Carmina Gomez, Donde come uno, comen dos. Two can eat from the same dish

 

 

Ripples of fear haunt kids

Students in Oregon and across the nation have shared their fears about what might happen to them or their families after the presidential election.

By Michael Arrieta-Walden

The gaggle of 8-year-olds looked at the photos of the presidential candidates on the bulletin board and flinched.

“I hate Donald Trump,” one boy said.

If Trump is elected, he said, his parents will be sent back to Mexico.

A girl said that if Trump is elected, she would never see her grandparents again.

Another boy walked up and said that Trump hates Mexicans and his whole family will go back to Mexico if Trump is elected.

As I listened, my heart broke.

These are 8-year-olds who should be worrying about who they’ll play with at recess. But they were talking about frightening adult worries.

The conversation was a pointed reminder that hateful comments have far-reaching effects. Like a pebble in a pond, threatening comments about immigrants, Muslims and women hurt far and wide.

You could not escape the sting of those comments in my third-grade classroom this school year. Throughout the year, students shared their fears.

Students nationwide also were frightened.

In a survey of 2,000 teachers by the Southern Poverty Law Center, more than two-thirds reported that students – mostly immigrants and Muslims – have expressed concerns or fears about what might happen to them or their families after the election. The survey also found that one-third of the teachers surveyed reported an increase in anti-Muslim or anti-immigrant sentiment. More than 40 percent are hesitant to teach about the election.

Teachers should not shy away from teaching students about current events with age-appropriate materials. Nor can they or should they build a bubble that protects students from difficult and competing ideas.

But as a society, how has it become acceptable to allow hateful, racist comments to go unchecked? How can we now permit bigoted statements in society, let alone polite society? Where is the deafening defense of immigrants in the face or racist speech?

Donald Trump obviously has the right to spout his hate, but my students should hear even more loudly how those views are rejected by society. My Mexican students should hear that most Mexicans are not criminals. Instead, most are like their own parents: hardworking contributors to society who embrace the values of hard work, family and faith. My Muslim students from Somalia and other countries should hear that the contributions of immigrants like their families are making our country a better place to live.

Michael Arrieta-Walden: Once a journalist, now a school teacher.

Silence in the face of bigotry breeds harm, all the way from the heat of the campaign trail to the haven of the classroom.

We should instead be shouting in celebration about the potential of students who are new to our country. I see in my students the potential for amazing gifts for our nation.

The girl who expressed her fears shows as much or more grit than any student I’ve ever taught. The boy who fears his family will be sent back to Mexico seizes opportunities to build inventions, which could lead to a life-saving device some day. And the boy who worries his parents will be returned speaks Spanish and English, and already writes persuasively in English; one day he could write a book that changes the world.

We need to nurture these students and their dreams, not frighten them into the shadows.

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Michael Arrieta-Walden is a former reporter and editor who left journalism to become an elementary school teacher. He has been grateful to be teaching third and fourth graders and English language learners in the Tigard-Tualatin School District since 2010.

Editor’s note: In my long career in journalism, a few people stand out for the exceptional passion and intelligence– and commitment to society’s disadvantaged — they brought to their work. Mike is one of those. We first worked together in Salem when I was a staff reporter and he was an intern and then years later at The Oregonian, when we were both editors. It heartens me to know he’s sharing his considerable talents in the classroom.

Tomorrow: Maisha Maurant, No room to breathe