Gary

I had coffee with a friend last week, Gary from the blog Follow Your Bliss, whose class of delightful first graders I had the privilege of reading to last year. Gary teaches at the American Sign Language and English School in the city, and he had invited me to read and talk with his students about writing their own stories. He and I had been friends online for years, but it was our first time meeting in the flesh. Strangely for me, I wasn't even nervous. I already adored him. His entire demeanor is kind. Unfortunately, both then and last week, we forgot to take a picture together, because isn't that the cardinal rule when blog friends meet, to create photographic evidence that we breached the physical universe, and exist beyond virtual space? (The photo here is from Gary's instagram feed. He gave me permission to use it.)

The book I shared with his students, some deaf, some hearing, is one of my favorites: Thank You, Mr. Falker, about a dyslexic girl who doesn't understand why she can't learn, or why the other kids call her dumb, until a special teacher unlocks the world for her. It's a true story, written by author and illustrator Patricia Polacco, who was the child in the story. As I read, another teacher signed alongside me. I can never read this book without my eyes getting blurry. I chose it because in a way, Gary is like Mr. Falker, the kind of teacher we wish all children could have. He makes the world so much larger, not just for his kids, but for everyone, even the well-known Broadway actors, directors and playwrights who accept his invitation to come and read to his class, and find the experience as revelatory for them as it is for the kids.

Last week over almond cappuccino, Gary shared some stories from his years as a deaf education teacher. I couldn't stop thinking about them afterward. But what I'm remembering this morning is the way, when Gary speaks, he also unconsciously signs what he's saying. It's very beautiful, a mesmerizing dance of gestures, a language of dimensional grace.