My Last Classroom

 My last classroom, one leg, and me ?

                               

                                         "Now, where on earth was I?  But I digress.”

      Dear Friends, former students, parents, colleagues plus anyone else I have worked for or with throughout my career, I thought long and hard before I sent this letter out to all of you. Because I was afraid. Afraid of what you might think At first, it was embarrassing, even humiliating, but soon it began to feel more like my way to explain to my friends the real truth about my almost total absence from everything for the last three years.

  At the start of June 2016, I was briefly hospitalized for a 'knee transplant.' It went horribly wrong the first time around. When I went for a routine check-up one week later, the surgeon simply said “ That whole leg of yours is septic. I will operate on it tomorrow morning.” This was a blow since the leg and I felt great. Admittedly, there was a bloodied, eight-inch purple-filled scar down the front of my leg, but I thought that everything was healing just fine.


     The operation had failed so badly, I was left, after six surgeries, with an immovable joint – just a mass of damaged tendons, trashed flesh, bits of bone and plastic, and a permanent massive infection. To complete my despair, my surgeon insisted that complete amputation was the only way out, from my upper thigh all the way down.

      When I was told I wouldn't ever walk again, I admit I was absolutely horrified, because I had never dreamed of such a thing. I grew up swimming, playing soccer and rugby on the school teams, now suddenly, no more dog-walking, no more strolling on the beach, no more walks in the woods, effectively, no more natural movement for the rest of my life

      Yes, there were times, I became bitter too. “Why me?” was my self-pitying refrain. One day, one of the doctors with whom I had struck up a relationship came over to my bed to ask how things were going. I liked him, so I told him the truth When I finished telling him my tale (he was not one of my doctors) he smiled gently, leaned over my bed and whispered “Have you ever tried asking “Why NOT me?” I hadn't – it would surely have got in the way of my feeling sorry for myself.

      Having been side-lined by my knee, I now need an electric wheelchair just to be able to get around in a school, and now that my 16-year old car is in her last throes and is unreliable, I need a cheap reliable car to get around in. Quite a few of you who have known me in the last ten years will remember that Debbie and I were swindled out of our life savings by a very smooth and credible London team of “stockbrokers.” (actually in the Marshall Islands) This, together with some of the medications that at one point were running at $600 per week have ruined us financially.


      But I still do believe I can make a real difference, especially as our country goes through this terrible epidemic – as a teacher! Now I have to wonder how the under-served, not-so-wealthy kids in parts of Bridgeport could possibly get even a decent score on the upcoming SAT/ACT? How can they learn enough to get into a good college, get real jobs? This is going to affect them for the rest of their lives. There is a desperate need.

    I have written to the Governor of Connecticut asking for suggestions and to his Dept of Education also. I further wrote even to the Bishop of Bridgeport explaining my position and asking him if he could gather a group of under-served kids for SAT/ACT tutoring. All I have seen in Bridgeport are fairly expensive commercial tutoring firms.

     I further promise everyone faithfully to leave any news, photos or videos that I have gotten from my progress with the kids right here – thereby tripping the GoFundMe Guarantee. This, at least, will ensure for the kind people who do give to this appeal, that I am not just dancing in the streets of Shelton!

    Words adequately express my deep and sincere gratitude to any of you who help me out in this rather daunting challenge, but the gift of educating young people is priceless. It is not I who is passing this fabulous gift along to others. I am only the vehicle for your kindness and your willingness to pass it on. Because I believe the price of education cannot possibly be over-estimated. I hope you are all well and doing well too.

Yours respectfully,   
                                    Patrick P. Cosgrove


B.A. cum laude – Columbia University (English: Grammar & Literature; Minor: Creative Writing) 2000
Woodridge Scholarship 1998 – 2000
A.A. – TOEFL, Manchester University, 1986