Roberta Guaspari was a Teacher. But she didn't know it.

She thought she was a divorced Navy wife with no marketable skills and no money. That part was true. She and her two boys were abandoned by a philandering Naval officer while they served their nation's military in a far away place - Greece.

That was nearly twenty years ago. She took her boys home Stateside to be near her parents. Wrapping gifts over the Christmas holiday in a discount department store was not what she ever envisioned as a career. But now it was mandatory. She was determined to make ends meet - no matter what.

One friend remained faithful - a friend who brought comfort in those painful and awful moments of regret and rage and desperation. That friend was a violin. They had been together since her childhood.

Roberta Guaspari was a reluctant single mom, a miserable daughter, a distracted employee and a musical virtuoso. When the nights got long and the pain unbearable she would open the hard case and take the bow and play melancholy melodies. Long sad notes. Sweet vibratos. Machine gun staccatos. And in those classics written long ago by musical geniuses who knew nothing of modern psychology… somehow she was comforted. Music was her therapy.

Back in Greece, she took a five thousand-dollar inheritance and purchased fifty violins. Her then husband vigorously objected. He had other plans for that money. But Roberta didn't listen. The inheritance was hers. When the marriage trouble started, those violins went into storage. Her dream program for the kids on the base was abandoned along with her hopes of happiness.

She did manage to teach her two sons to play. She was demanding. Relentless. She had no patience with their complaints or their excuses or their puerile deceptions. They became fine musicians. And when they played their violins - it was a taste of heaven.

After a long day of wrapping at the department store, someone suggested she consider reviving her dreams of a children's program. There was a school in desperate need. It seemed to fit. Only one hitch. The school was located on mean streets in the heart of Harlem.

In her first interview, the principal of this turbulent urban school asked for her teaching credentials. She had none. Without proper credentials, she could not be hired. So Roberta brought her two boys into the principal's office - and the interview became an audition. The boys stood erect, poised and ready at the bow. When Mom gave the signal, they launched into a trio filled with harmony and precision and emotion. It was a stunning performance. The two sons and three violins were impressive credentials indeed.

The principal smiled approvingly then said, "But we have no violins."

"I have fifty," Roberta replied.

The principal found a way. The door opened. Roberta got hired on a temporary, provisional basis.

It was a difficult start. The children had no ear for music. Their attention span was short. Discipline was absent. Pitch and tempo meant nothing. In the eyes of these musically deprived kids, those fifty lovely violins had no value whatsoever.

But Roberta had no alternative, really. Wrapping gifts was history. Greece was gone forever. This thirty-something Italian American gave herself to teaching the children violin. She prodded. She grimaced. She endured the squeaks and the broken bows and the frequent looks of despair on the faces of reluctant students.

Her two greatest barriers were parents and colleagues. Some of the parents considered her too harsh and demanding and the violin an outdated relic. Those squeaky strings and music written by "dead white guys" did not belong in Harlem. And her methods of strict practice hours, high expectation and dedication to performance were all politically incorrect. The violin represented elitism and the bourgeoisie. Most of her colleagues believed the same.

One in particular ran the district music programs. He was bored and cynical and rancorous and thoroughly pessimistic about the students' capacity for learning - much less excelling. He was also tenured - an incompetent with job security.

But in spite of the odds, Mrs. Guaspari taught. Her energy and love for the children and for the music they learned to make ultimately paid off. Big time.

A couple of weeks ago, I wandered on to the campus of the San Jose Edison Charter School in West Covina, California. After checking in with the main office, I was granted permission to head out to the playing field. I signed in.

There she was, like the pied piper leading a group of sixth graders in a series of exercises. She is responsible for the fitness program. Over three hundred students in all. And she teaches a couple of reading classes. I'm still not quite accustomed to hearing her called "Mrs. Duncan." She's a grown woman now. A college graduate. And married to Ben.

The Charter School movement is an attempt at making public school more effective with more local involvement. Funded by Federal and State and private grants, Charter Schools create their own academic programs. Their "Charters" are published, clearly delineating the school's philosophy of education and goals and methods. Students apply for admission. There's a long waiting list at San Jose Edison.

The Edison program was interesting enough to catch the favorable attention of CBS's 60 Minutes a couple weeks ago. Mike Wallace approved.

Our daughter Kristyn (Mrs. Duncan) is in her first year of teaching. Good models - teachers and mentors and administrators, who love the students, surround her. They are sincere and dedicated to the process of learning. There is discipline. There is a dress code. There are negative consequences for negative behavior. But the rewards are great. These kids - a rainbow coalition - have a chance. The doors of opportunity will be wide open.

It was 1980 when Roberta Guaspari took the risk and opened up her fifty violins in a basement practice room at River East Elementary School in East Harlem New York. She was a thirty-something with lots of hurt but high hopes. In the years that followed, her students not only mastered the violin, but they have played in concert with the likes of Itzhak Perlman and Isaac Stern. They created the "Fiddlefest." They have studied at Julliard. They have performed in Switzerland, at Carnegie Hall and even appeared on Oprah. Many of Mrs. Guaspari's musicians have gone on to become physicians, government leaders, business executives, scientists and, of course, educators.

Today she is fifty-one. Mrs. Guaspari is tough, demanding, impatient, direct… and beloved. Meryl Streep went after the part. She lobbied for and won the role of Roberta Guaspari in the new Miramax Film, Music of the Heart.

* * * * *

Teaching is indeed a noble profession.

We've all known the good and the bad and the mediocre. I had a professor once that literally and regularly yawned through his own lectures. You should have seen the class nodding off - daily. I had another in graduate school who would type out his lectures and then send his secretary into the thesaurus to find multi-syllabic graduate level words to spice up the text - and make it sound more advanced. We used to say that if his ideas were even remotely as profound as his words, it might have been impressive. It wasn't.

And there is that whole world of professional educators who simply gave up years ago. They are going through the motions, but that's it. The lesson plans are stale. They are over-worked, underpaid and long ago said good-bye to the ideals that brought them into the classroom in the first place.

But then there are those rare individuals who love their students as much as they love their subject matter. They wholeheartedly embrace all of the wonder and mystery of the world of knowledge. They live for the moment a student gets it. When the "aha" comes along, it's time for celebration. They build boundaries around the sacred arena of learning and refuse entry to those who would interrupt the process. It's far too important to be disturbed.

They bring joy and laughter and energy and focus to the task. And before you know it, your life is changed. You hardly know what hit you. You just know you will never again be the same.

As a leader, you are a teacher. High intelligence does not complicate, it illuminates. Today you will explain, sell, direct, motivate, correct, coach, review, resolve, inform. In every case you are a teacher.

Good teachers are not condescending. Good teachers look for understanding. They bring people to the point of comprehension. Get it? Good. Aha! That's what you want.