Don’t Step on Snails

Don’t Step on Snails

My Time with Captain Dane Zisko

By: Steven Andrew Schultz

He died one year ago. I don’t know how much longer I can continue to see students get buried, but today I will do my best to lift Dane up in love and give you a little insight into the young man I spent every day with for a year.

I’ve taught over 3,000 teenagers, and Dane Zisko is the only one to email me on Christmas morning just to wish me a Merry Christmas. Something like that sicks with you. Dane’s impact is like honey; it doesn’t easily wash away. In that Christmas email Dane thanked me for a letter I wrote him and said my words brightened up his week after he was feeling a little down. Dane told me I was a “great teacher” and thanked me for “spreading love” and then ended the email with the salutation of “Love, Dane Zisko, Period 3” What a wonderful Christmas present Dane gave me.

Love seems to run deep in the Zisko family. Two months before Dane’s email, Amber, Dane’s mom, emailed to give me encouragement as I was gone caring for my ailing mother in Michigan. Amber is a teacher too, like my mom and I. Normally parents only reach out to complain about a grade. How refreshing it was to get that boost from Amber during a difficult time for me. I did not realize the first time Amber and I would meet would be at Dane’s funeral. She hugged me and thanked me. I sent them a bunch of Dane’s writing from the year earlier when he was my student and his father got to read a hero essay Dane wrote about him that he had never seen. I can’t fathom their pain, and I mourn not only their loss, but also what the world is now missing.

Dane was different. People with such high intelligence and intense empathy suffer the most because they have a brain big enough to see the corruption of society and a heart big enough to feel the cruelty of that corruption. I never knew what the phrase “ignorance is bliss” meant when I first heard it until I read enough books and experienced enough unethical people that I wished I could go back to the bliss of not knowing the truth of how so many humans behave. Dane was going to change the world, but the lack of love in it broke him before he could build us.  

That’s something his mom and I spoke about: Dane’s inherit goodness that shined through like sunbeams in a forest. His light was so bright he could glow at night. But now the world is dimmer due to Dane’s early departure. So, it’s on us to increase the wattage of our shine and give our light away. Dane wrote once, “It’s a choice to truly love someone or something, so choose to love everyone.” Let’s choose love so more children will choose life.

One of the first times I remember really seeing Dane was when he fervently stood up for his position in class. I had spoken to him earlier in the year that he was incredibly intelligent and creative, but too timid, and he needed to be bold in raising his hand and sharing his thoughts. Dane was coachable and someone who would reflect on feedback given to him and put in the work to implement that desired improvement. So, one day I told the class a scenario about how I almost stepped on a snail the night before and how my friend laughed at me for being relieved that I saw the little guy before catastrophe happened and then helped him cross the road so no one else would step on him.

My question for my class was “Did saving this one single snail’s life really matter?” And to my chagrin, many of the students said it’s no big deal to step on a snail, but this is the day Dane found out how to be bold and not let the sounds of the majority drown out the volume of his voice. He argued that what I did mattered and people should care more and not harm creatures that are harmless.

Later on, Dane would write about Snails and he would say, “Snails aren’t seen as valuable, but snails have big, beautiful eyes that allow them to see what others can’t. The snail only moves when it has to, and that’s what makes it beautiful.”  

Every time I see a snail, I now think of Dane. I even bought a decorative snail that has colored gems on it and a snail Lego set. I read to Dane’s class one of my favorite poems called “Valentine for Earnest Mann” written by Naomi Shihab. It’s a story about a man who gives his wife a skunk for Valentine’s Day because he thought they were beautiful. His wife cried and ran away. But a poet can find beauty in the most unlikely places. Ray Bradbury wrote that “Writers eat the world and vomit lava.” It’s the same sentiment as the skunk poem, just because for thousands of years the world had said something is repulsive, you as a writer must ink the link from what was to what is. Dane did that on the day he told the world it’s morally repugnant to step on snails. When people say, “We don’t do that here” a writer responds, “We do now, because I’m here.”

A few weeks ago, I was thinking of Dane…I think of him often. I was with my boy looking at this condo for rent, and as we walked up to the front door, there were a few snails in the doorway. I told Jax about Dane and how he defended my position that saving a snail’s life matters and that we should never step on snails because they do no harm to humans. My nine-year-old looked up to me and said, “Let’s move them into the bush so no one else can step on any snails.” My heart smiled watching this little boy work to save the snails and I knew Dane’s work was continuing.

When I returned from my trip to Michigan in the fall that Dane was in my class and his mother emailed me, I saw a vintage Air Force fighter jet on display in the airport and took a photograph of it and showed it to Dane when I got back. Dane was training to be a pilot and had already flown many times with his father which he would regale me in stories about. I gave Dane the nickname of “Captain” and Dane said once he got his pilot license, he would take me on a flight.

I have my students create a Life Logo that serves as a symbol of a philosophy they want their life led by. Dane chose a fighter jet and the words he chose as most important to him were Generosity, Wisdom, Leadership, Creativity, Strength, Guidance, Character, Love, and Free Will. Over the year I spent with him, I saw Dane demonstrate every single one of those aspirational attributes.

Here are some thoughts Dane wrote while in my class:

“The control surfaces on an airplane have to be strong enough to move the plane. In life, you need to be strong enough to change your life and the life of others.”

“Leadership is the ability to love everyone the way they are but show them how to be greater and love greater.”

“The intake supplies the engine of the aircraft with fresh air. This increases the thrust. By giving you become a more loving and happy person. Generosity inspires and increases the love.”

“You have the choice to help or hurt others. One action doesn’t only affect you but everyone around you.”

“Be creative. By being creative you find the fun in the mundane.”

“Love everyone the way they are. Love must guide you in everything through life.”

“Your character holds everything together.”

“Space is infinite, and with the love you give away you can affect others even after death, becoming infinite.”

Dane should be getting ready for his high school graduation in a couple months. He would visit me his junior year. His smile always entered the room before he did. He always seemed to be smiling and gave no indication he was suffering. A couple months before he died, I remember thinking to myself: Dane hasn’t visited me in a while.”

In January, when Dane found out I was the third teacher at FVHS to get this rare spinal tumor, Dane told me “You are such an inspiration for everyone and I know you can get through this.” I wish Dane knew how much of an inspiration he was to me and so many others and that we needed him to get through and stay.

Nine days before Dane died I had my last interaction with him. I asked when he was taking me to the sky and he said, “Once I get my PPL” he walked past my classroom and I told him to have a great day and he waved goodbye to me and walked towards the baseball field. That was the last time I saw Dane. I wish I would have ran over to him and hugged him and someone been able to alter the future.

Almost every day after 5^th period, I stand out on the porch of my little portable classroom and I wave to students, and what none of them know as they wave back, is how much my heart is searching for Dane’s face, wishing we got more goodbyes.

I never got to fly with Dane, but this past fall I took my boy, the same one who saved snails with me, on his first ever plane ride. We flew to Michigan and I showed him the fighter jet I showed Dane.

On April 1^st, an assistant principal of FVHS opened my classroom door and asked me to step outside. He broke the news to me that my former student, Dane Zisko, died earlier that morning. It felt like deja vu, as this was the fourth time in as many years that I was pulled out of class to be told a former student was dead. At least this time the school gave me a substitute teacher to cover my classes the rest of the day instead of making me teach like the three times prior.

I walked away and turned the corner and immediately saw one of my current students who was on the wrestling team with Dane. He walked up to me and hugged me, and we both cried in each other’s arms. I left him and walked past all the wrestlers and headed toward the English lounge. Dawn Lawyer’s classroom door was right next to the door I was seeking refuge in and she saw me crying and asked, “Are you okay?” and I said, “No. Another kid is dead.”

My back slung against the wall and I started sobbing as I slide down and fell to the floor. David Theriault picked me up and hugged me while my tears and snot stained his shoulder. I cried out, “I don’t think I can do this anymore. I can’t keep burying kids. It doesn’t feel like I work in a school but a trauma center.”

David held me up physically like he has held me up spiritually for sixteen years and told me my kids needed me. After gathering myself, I walked back to my classroom and printed out Dane’s writing to give to his family and a couple pieces for his wrestling coach. More of his teammates walked into my classroom sobbing, looking for solace. I looked at the pilot’s wings sitting on my shelf that I told Dane I would give him the day he took me up for a flight. My captain was gone and I knew society just lost a savant.

I started thinking of sunflower seeds I used to suck on as a kid. Sunflower seeds in your pocket was a must for any baseball player. Although, unlike the rest of the players, I never knew how to crack them open. So, I’d just suck on them for flavor and spit out the whole shell with the seed intact, trying to fit in and hope no one would notice. But I never fit in and never made friends with any of my teammates. And I wondered, if, perhaps, Dane was like me and never really fit in. He seemed to have friends though and had a girlfriend. But maybe, all we saw was the shell of him and not the seed untouched inside.

The summer after his death, I was back in Michigan. My mom’s favorite bird to watch is the Cardinal, and the seeds that attact them are sunflower seeds. I always filled up her bird feeders with sunflowers seeds. Sometimes the birds spill some seeds into the soil below which the Ducks usually feast on.

A few weeks into summer, a single sunflower had bloomed right underneath the balcony where the bird feeders rest. Seeing that sunflower made me think of Dane. Even though he was buried, his impact is immortal and still producing light. Like Dane wrote, “if you give enough love away you can affect others after death.”

When I was a boy, my dad and I watched this television show called Star Trek The Next Generation. And at the beginning of every episode this celestial music plays as glowing orbs of galaxies float by and the voice of Captain Jean-Luc Picard narrates “Space. The Final Frontier. To boldly go where no one’s gone before.” And then the spaceship called The Starship Enterprise bolts off into lightspeed and left behind is a beam of light.

I rewatched some episodes this summer, and I picture Dane, out there, exploring new worlds, boldly going where no one has gone before, like he did the day he stood up for snails. And although I cannot see him, I still see that light beam his starship left behind. Dane once wrote that his goal is to “aim for the stars and when you get there, aim higher.” So, that’s where I see Dane, trekking through other galaxies, spreading his light, teaching other species how do to what humans fail to do: love everyone.

All life on earth is only possible because of dead stars. You are literally made of the ashes of exploded stars. Light takes a long time to reach us, so we can see light from stars who died years ago. Years from now, the light of Dane Zisko will still be visible. I was waiting for him to take me up in flight, but now, it is I, who will take Dane with me wherever I go.

Last week my son came home from school and he was really quiet, and Jaxen is never quiet. His mom and I were walking with him through this nature center and after a while he said to me, “They killed living things!” And I said, “What do you mean, buddy?”

Jax told the story that today at school there was a jumping spider at recess, and one boy tried to kill it and Jaxen told him not to and explained all the cool things jumping spiders can do. And some other kid yelled, “Yo, Jaxen!” And then stepped on the spider and killed it and they made fun of him for caring.

Then, later in the day, my boy found a rollie-poly on the ground and some kid tried to kill it, so Jaxen begged him not to and picked it up in his hand. Another kid kicked my son’s hand to try to knock it out, but Jaxen kept it secure. Then the boy kicked his hand again and the rollie-poly fell and the kid stepped on it, and they laughed at my boy.

Jaxen said to me, “why would they go through all that effort to kill a living thing? A roly-poly never hurts anyone, just like the snails. You shouldn’t crush something that can’t crush you! Why would they want to kill a living thing?”

And right as Jax said “living thing” his nine-year-old voice trembled and he began to cry. He wrapped his arms around me and cried into my chest while I held him. I told him I admired his heart and that it was okay for men to cry about important things. I told him I didn’t have the answers as why some people take glee in destroying others and killing living things, but people with big hearts like him are rare and what’s rare is more valuable and that I was proud of him for trying to protect that rollie-poly. I told him that when I was his age, I was afraid of all bugs except for Lady Bugs and rollie-pollies because a roly-poly doesn’t bite or hurt humans, but is actually beneficial and cleans up waste in the ground. And other kids would make fun of me for trying to protect the roly-pollies.

I said that he showed more empathy and care for that dead rollie-poly than millions of Americans have shown for hundreds of dead children just killed by American bombs and no matter how old he gets or how many people make fun of him, to guard his heart so it’s always big enough to cry over, and care for, the smallest creatures. In this family, we don’t step on snails.

As I looked into my son’s tear-filled eyes as he looked up to me and said, “I love you, Stevie-pooh” I saw the single sunflower underneath my mom’s birdfeeder, and I knew that even though Dane was gone, his light was still here.

Last week as I was touring Gisler Elementary school in my duties as an elected School Board Trustee of the Fountain Valley School District, I saw a roly-poly and a snail on the ground and picked them up and put them in the plants. Today, while touring Cox Elementary school, as I was leaving to drive to Fountain Valley High School to teach, I almost stepped on a roly-poly. I took a photo of it and sent it to Jax.

Tomorrow, April 1^st, is the one-year anniversary of my former student’s death. I will go to work wearing a t-shirt with colorful snails painted on it and I will tell my current students Dane Zisko’s story and read them this article I wrote to honor him. And in my big, childlike heart, my hope is, tomorrow there will be more rollie-pollies and snails alive, because Dane, Jaxen, and I, made the choice to love everyone.  

“Not everyone has the heart to stay in the fight when times are tough, not everyone can get up when others bring them down. Embrace the grind because Life is worth fighting for.” – Dane Zisko