The patron saint of lost causes

Last Friday, October 1, Oakland education activist Dirk Tillotson was murdered in his home. He was as real as they come, self-described as the “patron saint of lost causes.” His death is a massive loss for those who knew and loved him, especially his wife and son, but also Oakland families and children — writ large. 

I met Dirk a few years ago, in the process of writing my book, and he became one of a few people who influenced me most deeply in how I think about education, but more importantly, how I want to live my life. We collaborated a bit. We exchanged emails last week about having a beer soon. He had just finished the book. 

I quoted him in it and thanked him in the acknowledgments, but what he’ll never know is that this passage ended up on the cutting room floor. I re-read it after learning of his death and it struck me as weirdly appropriate for adding to people’s understanding of his life. No doubt there will be many testimonials from people who knew him far better and far longer. I will treasure every one. 

Here it is…

I get to World Grounds Café in the Laurel District of Oakland, our usual meeting spot, an hour early and read some studies while eavesdropping on a few old ladies commiserating about getting older. Dirk Tilloston comes in at the agreed upon time and gives me a warm smile. He’s wearing his usual stubble and square black glasses, plus a t-shirt that says, “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” — Benjamin Franklin. 

“How are you?” he asks me, but in that way that is sort of disarming because you realize the person actually wants to know the answer. There are no empty formalities with Dirk. He’s all common sense and kindness. 

I tell him the story of how I, a white mom, accidentally became the president of the school site council at our Black-majority school. In short, a newer white mom with very little humility and a potential conflict of interest self-nominated and no one else wanted the job; a Black teacher at the school nominated me, to my complete surprise, and I accepted assuming, at least in that split second, that it was the right thing to do. He listens nodding and nodding, saying “Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Yup.” 

I’m feeling conflicted about it: “My intention was to show up and listen for a lot longer,” I explain. 

“You gotta dig in where you can,” he says. “Don’t overthink it. Especially if it’s what the teachers want. Just don’t be an asshole.”

And just like that, I feel the drama leak out of the thing. Dig in where you can, I write down in my unlined notebook. 

Read the rest here, at Education Post. (Dirk introduced me to the editor there, so it seemed a fitting home for this piece.)

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Reading about these intergenerational pioneers helped brighten my spirits this week. Take a look.

I also loved loved loved this interview with Lois Lowry. It really made me want to re-read The Givers. Maybe we should do it as an examined family? Anyone interested?

Maya asked me what heaven was this week. What would you answer?