A Beacon of Light

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  • My name is Kevin Carroll. I was born and raised in San Francisco, California, where I attended Saint Ignatius College Preparatory. I am a graduate of both Santa Clara University and the University of San Francisco. Following a 40-year career in teaching and pastoral ministry, I launched a new career as a writer and speaker.

    I live in San José, California. My wife, Kathy, and I have three adult sons and five precious grandchildren. I have much for which to be grateful.

    I can be reached via email at kmc43sjc@gmail.com

    My books are available for purchase online from Amazon. I also have copies of some of these titles at my home for those who would like to buy them directly from me.

    A Moment’s Pause for Gratitude  (2017)

    Cherries in the Summer  (2021)

    The Ambassador of 38th Avenue  (2022)

    Dad: 12 Questions…  (2023)

    A Focus on Gratitude  (2024)

    Through the Lens of Gratitude  (2024)

    A Bahamian Odyssey (2026)

  • In Mid-August?

    “You can’t stop a teacher 
    when they want to do something. 
    They just do it!”
    J.D. Salinger

    Yes, in mid-August! 

    Tonight, in homes across America, teachers are putting the final touches on their lesson plans for the upcoming week. Gone are the days when students and teachers returned to the classroom on the day after Labor Day in September. Over the past several years, what was once known as “summer vacation” has been infringed upon by earlier back-to-school dates. But this is not my main point this evening.

    What I want to focus on tonight is a part of our education system of which many Americans are apparently unaware. A teacher’s job does not begin on the first day of school, nor does it end on the last day of school. At the conclusion of each academic year, teachers are required to complete a plethora of administrative tasks, from finalizing grades to cleaning (or, in some cases, emptying) their classrooms. Many educators use the summer months to work on advanced degrees, to clear their credentials, or to engage in any number of professional development programs. 

    Long before the start of a new academic year, teachers must set up their classrooms, secure classroom supplies (often at their own expense), update attendance lists, organize seating charts, and prepare both long-term and short-term lesson plans. They are also required to complete online training programs pertaining to child abuse, first aid, professionalism in the workplace, and even pest control on campus, and to attend a number of faculty meetings to discuss issues pertinent to the upcoming school year. And if the school is facing a reaccreditation in the coming year, well,… I won’t even go there.

    Sadly, it seems that there is no shortage of people who believe that teaching is a laid-back profession which requires educators to work only 8:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. for nine months (September to the beginning of June) of each year. Many resent that teachers also get a two-week break at Christmas and one-week breaks in February (“ski week,” “winter break,” “Presidents’ Week”…) and again in April (“Easter vacation, “spring break,”…) Ignorance is bliss.

    The amount of time conscientious teachers devote to school-related business outside of the normal eight to three school day can be staggering. It is not uncommon for educators who are devoted to their craft to arrive on campus at least one hour prior to the start of the first period of each day and to leave campus two to three hours after the final bell. These extra hours provide time for teachers to handle such tasks as photocopying handouts, meeting individually with students and/or parents, collaborating with colleagues, grading assignments and tests, responding to email, and maintaining an organized classroom environment. 

    For many, if not most teachers, those extra hours on campus are still insufficient to complete everything that is expected of them. Most educators, therefore, take work home with them. Some of the tasks can be completed in the late evening or early morning hours during the work week, but many teachers still find themselves spending some of their weekend hours on work-related business just to keep up with the demands of the job. 

    There are, of course, exceptions to this level of dedication to one’s work. Several years ago, one teacher proudly confided to me that she never brought schoolwork home with her. She may have thought I’d be impressed with her commitment to preventing her job from infringing on her free time. I wasn’t. Her comment did, however, speak volumes about her work ethic. Sadly, she’s not alone in approaching her job in this way.

    I am grateful for all those women and men who are working from home tonight in preparation for tomorrow. I’m grateful for all my teachers, elementary school through graduate school, who prepared well for the courses they taught. And I will be forever grateful for the experience of 43 years of teaching.

  • A Resting Place

    “Look back in 
    GRATITUDE, 
    stay present in
    LOVE, 
    and the future 
    will unfold with 
    GRACE.”
    Judy Parker

    Kathy and I had the honor of attending a gathering this afternoon at Bracher Park in Santa Clara. Prior to today, I’d never been to this venue. With afternoon temperatures in the mid-80ºs, and a gentle breeze passing through the trees and across the vast expanse of grass throughout the day, conditions were perfect for a celebration. Today’s get-together, which, in some ways, was a “celebration of life,” was an emotional one. Family and friends gathered to remember an energetic 7-year-old boy, Myles Anthony Smith, who died a little less than a year ago from cancer. 

    In the late 1990s, our three sons played baseball in the Briarwood-El Camino Little League. During those years, we met dozens of wonderful people. Two of those people were “Smitty” and Katie Smith, parents of Anthony and Alan. Our boys never played on the same teams with their sons, but we all got to know each other pretty well. Just as our boys have gotten older, two of them now married with children, Smitty and Katie’s sons have also grown into adulthood and have children of their own. Myles, the 7-year-old who passed away, was Anthony’s son.

    Today’s event included the dedication of a park bench in memory of Myles. The bench is ideally situated at the north end of the park and offers an unobstructed view of the entire facility. The tree directly behind the bench provides comfortable shade for anyone choosing to sit on the bench in the afternoon hours. A walking path, which encircles the entire park, passes directly in front of the bench. Santa Clara Mayor Lisa Gillmor officially dedicated the bench today and provided support to the entire Smith family.

    I made no effort to count the number of those in attendance, but a good number of family members and friends participated in the events of the day, which included some prayer, a bit of singing, the official dedication ceremony, and an amazing barbecue lunch for everyone. 

    I never had the pleasure of meeting little Myles. Today, however, gave me a glimpse of the type of child he was. The entire day was an expression of love — love for Myles, and love for each other. Clearly, this young man made a positive impact on the people around him during his brief life. From conversations I had with both family members and friends, the two themes I heard repeated over and over again were love and gratitude.

    The loss of a 7-year-old child is unthinkable, but I learned early in my life that it happens. One of my Saint Gabriel School classmates died when we were in second grade. It’s difficult to make sense of it. Of course, we want to ask “Why?” even though we know there is no answer to this question. 

    In speaking with Myles’ mother this afternoon, I was impressed to hear her tell me that she understood the futility of getting stuck on this question, and that, for her, the focus of her response to Myles’ death has been a slow, but steady transition from unbearable grief to genuine gratitude. She explained that she could easily be angry and focus on all she will miss out on as a mother and all Myles will miss out on in his life. Instead, Melissa chooses to focus on gratitude for the seven years she, Anthony, and the entire Smith family had with Myles.

    This is a wonderful lesson which can benefit everyone.  

  • It’s Possible to Be…

    I don’t think this image needs any explanation. It is, however, certainly worth pondering.

  • Let the Truth Be Told

    “If you tell the truth, 
    you don’t have to 
    remember anything.” 
    Mark Twain

    I was recently asked to share my favorite story from my more than forty years of teaching. While I’m sure there are many I could have shared, this was the first that came to mind.

    I was teaching at Saint Lawrence Academy in Santa Clara. My first period class was a course in Social Justice for juniors. As with any first period class, there were times when a student would arrive late. Students knew that when this happened, they were not to come directly to the classroom. Rather, they were required to check-in at the main office. Legitimate tardies were awarded a pass to go to class. If the student’s lateness was inexcusable, their admission pass to class was accompanied by a detention slip.

    There was one particular week, back in 2005, when two of my first period students, who commuted to school together each morning, arrived late several times in the same week. When they arrived for class each morning, they handed me the admit-to-class slips they had received in the office. On Monday, I didn’t think much of it. On Tuesday, I began to smell a rat, but I didn’t say anything. The two arrived late to class again on Wednesday and Thursday. Each day, they had an excused tardy pass from the office.

    Professionalism is not one of the words that comes to my mind when I think about the administration and staff at Saint Lawrence Academy at that time. It was fairly well-known that preferential treatment was given to some students in regards to disciplinary issues. These two students were well-liked, and rightly so. They were good guys. The office did not hold them to the same level of accountability as they might for other students.

    I was giving a brief 20-question chapter test on Friday. As I had expected, the two students arrived late again, just as the last test was being turned in. After accepting their excused tardy notes from the office, which indicated that they’d gotten a flat tire on their way to school, I informed the boys that they could take the make-up test at the beginning of lunch. It would only take, at most, about ten minutes to complete the test. They were happy to do so.

    During my third period prep time that morning, I pulled up the master copy of the test on my computer. I added one additional question to the test for these two boys. It should have been quite simple for them to answer:

    21. Which tire was flat?

    a. Front left
    b. Front right
    c. Rear left
    d. Rear right

    The boys dutifully arrived at the beginning of lunch to take the make-up test. I had them sit in desks on opposite sides of the room. When they got to the last question on the bottom of the second page, the look on their faces was priceless. They ended up admitting that they’d been stopping at Starbucks on their way to school each morning. A lesson learned.  

  • 150 Years!

    “A place where 
    little cable cars 
    climb halfway 
    to the stars…”
    George Cory

    The acclaimed San Francisco cable cars have been serving The City by the Bay for the past 150 years. In my childhood, they were a viable means of transportation from downtown to Fisherman’s Wharf or Ghirardelli Square. A less popular route moved transit riders along California Street from Market Street to Van Ness Avenue, passing such sites as Grace Cathedral, the Fairmont Hotel, and the Mark Hopkins Hotel. Much has changed, however,  since my formative years in the 1960s.  

    During my elementary school years, in the days before underground tunnels were constructed to accommodate BART and Muni, multiple streetcar lines rolled down Market Street. I often took the “L” streetcar from Taraval & Sunset Boulevard, through the Twin Peaks Tunnel, to the heart of downtown at 5th and Market. Some days I would walk around the corner to Station 1 of the San Francisco Fire Department, where my Dad worked at the time. On other occasions, I’d walk across Market Street to the foot of Powell Street where I would board a cable car to the northern edge of The City. The Taylor Street cable car would take me to Fisherman’s Wharf, and to shopping venues such as Akron and Cost Plus. The Hyde Street cable car would drop me off just one block from Ghirardelli Square. Rarely, if ever, did I take the California Street line. 

    Not only were these convenient ways to get from downtown to the Fisherman’s Wharf area, but they were cost-effective, as well. I would ask the driver of the “L” car for a “transfer” when I boarded in the Sunset District. The transfer would allow me to ride the cable cars at no additional cost. 

    The famous cable cars are quite different today. It seems that they have morphed from public transportation for locals to pricey tourist experiences for visitors to The City. The lines to board a cable car, at either end of the lines, can be excruciatingly long. Similar to the long lines for some of the more popular attractions at Disneyland, these might not dissuade tourists from waiting up to an hour to board the vehicle and pay the $8.00 one-way fare, but most locals now seek more effective ways to move across The City.

    Still, the cable cars are truly a San Francisco experience. I’m grateful to have had access to them for transportation purposes in my younger days, and I appreciate that they are still available as a point of interest for visitors to The City.

  • Remembering

    “Our dead are never 
    dead to us until we have 
    forgotten them.”
    George Eliot

    At about this time on this date fifteen years ago, I found myself driving, quite unexpectedly, to San Francisco to say goodbye to my Dad. He had fallen down the steps of our family home and had been taken by ambulance to the trauma center at San Francisco General Hospital. I didn’t know for sure what condition he was in, but I had no choice but to prepare myself for his death. 

    When I arrived at S.F. General, Dad was on life support. The outcome was not in question. Mom just wanted to be certain that my siblings and I had the opportunity to get to the hospital. Around 11:00 p.m., the attending physician withdrew the life support.

    Like so many other significant events in my life, this is one I will never forget. It doesn’t seem possible that it’s already been fifteen years, but life does go on. 

    Dad’s death rocked me to my core. The effect it had on me was much different than I would have expected. I had never before experienced depression. During the week between Dad’s death and his funeral service, I was numb. I went through the motions without really giving much thought to the reality of the situation. Along with my Mom and siblings, we just did what we had to do. It was in the days, weeks, and months after the funeral that I struggled to come to terms with Dad’s passing.

    I continually looked for opportunities to get away, usually to the area along West Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz. That was my sacred spot. I did a lot of reading on coping with grief. I did a lot of thinking about what life would be like without him. And I did a lot of crying. It helped.

    Today, perhaps for the first time since 2008, I truly enjoyed this day — July 31st. I wasn’t weighed down with thoughts of losing my Dad. Rather, Kathy and I enjoyed a delightful drive from San José to South Lake Tahoe. I was aware, of course, of the date, but I savored a tremendous sense of peace throughout the day. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Mom is now with him.

    One strange thought, however, did cross my mind today. When one’s parents are still alive, even just one of them, it seems as though there is a buffer between us and death. With Mom’s passing last August, that buffer is gone. I’m not worried about it, but I’m aware of it. And yes, it does make a difference in how I want to live out the time I have remaining in my life.

  • On Being Remembered

    “Our legacy is really
    the lives we touch, 
    the inspiration we give, 
    altering someone’s plan,
    if even for a moment, 
    and getting them to
    think, cry, laugh, and argue.”
    Carrie Hamilton

    It was a strange request. This past week, I assisted a friend of a friend in the process of updating his résumé and writing a cover letter for a job to which he is applying. Having completed the task, my friend asked me to send him a copy of my current résumé. It’s been awhile since I’ve needed a job résumé, but I’m a firm believer that it’s a good idea to always have a current one available, just in case. I took the opportunity to update mine and sent it to him. His response surprised me.

    “Thanks. Now I have a copy to remember you by.”

    I’ve known this friend since we first crossed paths in the fall of 1968. We have stayed in touch, to some degree, throughout the past 55 years. His response to receiving a copy of my résumé made me realize that he doesn’t know me all that well. While I wasn’t upset with his response, I felt compelled to respond.

    “Please don’t remember me by my résumé. That’s not who I am. That’s just an indicator of where and how I spent some of my time these past 50+ years.”

    I would like to believe that I am much more than just what I’ve done in my professional life. I hope to be remembered as someone who has made a positive difference in the lives of those I’ve encountered on my life journey. I hope to be remembered as someone who provided compassionate care where and when it was needed. I hope to be remembered as someone who listened attentively to those who needed someone to listen to them. I hope to be remembered as someone who was reliable and could be trusted implicitly. And I hope to be remembered by some as a role model for how to live their lives with contentment, gratitude, and integrity.

  • Hurtful Words

    “Sticks and stones 
    will break my bones, 
    but names will 
    never hurt me.”

    Alexander William Kinglake (1830)

    This well-known children’s rhyme was included in a poem written in 1830. In my own childhood in the early 1960’s, these words were a common response to insults by bullies on the playground. I’m not exactly sure how old I was when it dawned on me that there is no truth to this cute little rhyme.

    Oh, sure, it’s possible to let many put-downs roll right off our back, especially when we consider the source of those insults. Unfortunately, it took a long time for me to recognize that slurs tossed my way by mean kids were, in reality, not about me at all. Despite this realization, however, hurtful things have been said to me, even in my adult years, which echo in my head to this day. Perhaps this is a more common experience than I realize.

    I recently had an unexpected reunion with one of my former students. She graduated from high school in 1995. Her first three years were spent at a different catholic high school in the South Bay. It was the educational institution from which several of her relatives had graduated. She was proud to be a student there. Due to an undiagnosed learning difference, however, one which was not identified and addressed until she was in college, she was asked to leave her beloved high school for not measuring up to their academic standards. 

    In the process of being informed by the vice principal that she would not be allowed to return to the school for her senior year, the school administrator told her that she would never amount to anything. This young woman is now in her mid-40’s. It’s been twenty-nine years since those spiteful words were so callously spoken. As one might imagine, the words are as fresh in her mind today as the day they were uttered. 

    It was providential that this student was able to transfer into the high school where I was teaching at the time. School was not easy for her, but due to her persistence, incredible effort, and positive attitude, she thrived in her senior year, earning the respect of her teachers and peers. Of course, the thought of pursuing a four-year degree wasn’t on her radar at that time. Why should it be? A professional educator had predicted that she would never amount to anything.

    More than ten years after her high school graduation, the student completed her two-year degree from a local community college and applied for San José State University. It was there that an insightful, kind, and compassionate professor called her aside after class one day and recommended that she get tested for a learning difference. The results of the testing verified that, indeed, she learned differently from most other students. Accommodations were provided and, from that point on, she successfully completed the requirements for her bachelor’s degree.

    This young woman has enjoyed a prosperous professional career. She is currently the Vice President of Strategic Accounts for a local construction/real estate business. She owns her own home in the Willow Glen neighborhood of San José and is living her life to the fullest. How sad that, even today, those despicable words, spoken to her by that insensitive high school administrator, continue to bounce around in her head.

    I am convinced that Alexander William Kinglake was mistaken in 1830. The truth of the matter is this: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can do permanent damage. 

  • Change the World?

    “You must be the change 
    you want to see in the world.” 
    Gandhi

    There is much in life over which we have no control. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that most things in life are out of our control. Does this leave us helpless to change the world? Absolutely not!

    One of the root causes of injustice in our world is greed — a lack of concern for the welfare of others despite our overabundance of goods and resources. Greed is an excessive desire to accumulate more stuff, specifically money and possessions, and often at the expense of those incapable of providing for themselves. Some see this as a significant issue in society today, and rightly so. Are we helpless to change things? Every one of us, despite our economic status, is capable of compassionate generosity. The decision to help others, by sharing some of what we have, may not make a global impact, but it can certainly make a positive difference in the lives of those we help.

    I like to believe that people are basically good, but we all know a few individuals who are downright mean. They treat those around them with disrespect, and even disdain. It’s possible that we have experienced their nastiness personally, or, perhaps, we’ve only observed others victimized by the person’s contempt. My life experience tells me that these people make up just a small percentage of our population. What can we do when we encounter such a surly individual? Responding in kind is counterproductive. Responding to contempt with kindness, however, accomplishes three important goals: (1) it demonstrates that we will not allow others to dictate our response; (2) it provides an example for others who may struggle with how to deal with such a difficult person; and (3) it demonstrates that we have the emotional maturity to treat others as we would want them to treat us. 

    Personal debt is another issue adversely affecting many Americans today. The most common types of debt are mortgages, auto loans, student loans, and credit cards. Without getting into a lengthy discussion of all of these, I’ll focus only on credit cards. According to the website valuepenguin.com, the average American family credit card debt in 2022 was $6,270. That’s just credit cards! Spending today has become so convenient that we don’t even need money to purchase things. We can simply swipe the plastic card. While this is a major problem in our country, it is possible to avoid the burden of credit card debt, and it’s quite simple to do so: purchase only those items you can afford. For more than forty years, I have paid-off my total credit card balance — in full — every month. In order to do so, I must avoid purchasing items I simply cannot afford. In most cases, it’s really just a matter of self-discipline and deferred gratification. We have control over these things.

    Yes, WE must be the change we wish to see in the world, and yes, it does begin with us.