I’ve always been called an old soul. When I was young, I wanted to go to my friends’ houses not to play with them but to spend time in conversation with their parents. I have always had elder-mentors in professional studies and personal life; I thrive on their perspectives.
Marv Hoffman is one of those people. When I first learned in 2010 that we had to move to Chicago from Brooklyn for my husband’s work, Marv picked me up in his little car, having never met me, to drive me from school to school with my resume. He wore a little hat. He was friends with a principal-friend of mine in Brooklyn, and had never even met me. He has a massive heart and is a kindred spirit in all things education, and I learn from him every conversation we have. I learn from his blog writing; I learn from his ability to connect various time periods and lessons together to teach me about life. Marv was the founder of the Urban Education Teacher Program in Chicago. His thoughts are invaluable. He is an excellent conversationalist, curious and forthright. I collect his commentary like little gems.
Since then, Marv and I have connected every three months or so for the twelve years we’ve lived in Chicago. He spent time in my classroom when I was a middle school teacher, just sitting, listening, sharing with me and my students. When I started consulting, he connected me with like-minded literacy leaders. He has seen my motherhood journey, four times over, and met my children.
We caught up today on Zoom. Like usual, he gave me bigger picture perspective, not only about life but about book writing process, especially when reminiscing about his author wife, Rosellen Brown, who he said nearly threw her writing into a fire decades ago.
“Avoid the impulse to toss your work in the wood stove, Nawal. This is the worst time to be looking at your work. Forge ahead.”
Nawal, I read and scanned this beautifully brief post several times before resting on two thoughts: connection and collection. "I collect his commentary like little gems." This connection doesn’t need more words and the image, the expressions, say it all. I love this line, so full of history leaving the reader space to imagine: "He has seen my motherhood journey, four times over, and met my children." Beautiful.
What an enduring friendship…so valuable for both of you. I love the simplicity of the line "He wore a little hat." My grandfather wore a little hat, and oh how I miss it, and him. Thank you for writing about this connection.
Oh, Nawal, this post is everything! I missed a slew of days, visiting my folks and organizing against our terrible Ohio bills, but jumped back in today, and skimmed for your Slice. What a joy to be rewarded not only with your writing, but with Marv’s wisdom and FACE, too. Thank you for modeling a writing and LOVING life. xxoo
Wisdom of those who have lived and experienced. While losing my mom to Alzheimer’s was horrific in so many ways, one of the joys was spending time every day at her assisted living facility. I still remember the stories, advice, and perspective of the many people I had the honor to get to know those years. Thank you for sharing this story, and now advice, with all of us. Wisdom all of us need.
The old soul reference captured my attention right from the start. Your mentor, Marv, sounds like a wise soul. Reconnecting with those who have shaped our path is fueling. Please don’t throw your writing in the fire. The world needs to hear what you have to say.