Honoring Dr. Naomi Erdmann

October 7, 2023

The world has lost a bright and brilliant light.

And I lost someone I love.

I knew it would come some day. Everyone passes. But it doesn’t make it any less hard. The grief keeps coming unexpectedly.

We met when I started my first graduate program. She was confident and knowledgeable and experienced and direct.

She was rooted in research and data before data-based decision making became a thing. In fact, I went to an intensive training last year that was rooted in research about best practices in literacy instruction. It was new information for many in the class. But for me, it affirmed everything I had been taught by her twenty years ago.

Her thoughtful feedback on my papers and research taught me so much about the writing process and language. Things I carry with me still to this day. Like keeping superfluous “that’s” out of our writing and always using the beloved Oxford comma.

She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She saw things in me that I had never seen. Somehow, I ended up being her co-graduate assistant, then I was co-teaching classes with her, then teaching graduate classes on my own for six years.

Professionally, what she loved more than teaching and the graduate students were the children who came to the Marie Callahan Reading Clinic. She knew the children so well and insisted each of the graduate students entrusted with their learning cared for them, were intentional and thorough in the instruction, and focused on their strengths. She cared about children deeply and fought for them fiercely. Word was out about the impact her clinic had for kids as there was always a waiting list.

She cared for people well. She was incredibly thoughtful, often showing up at my house with beautifully wrapped, thoughtful gifts for me and my children. Books and Vera Bradley and more books. The last physical gift I received from her was a hardcover book about literacy learning and the brain. And, when I was going through a tumultuous time professionally, she heard about it and just kept showing up for me. She always showed up.

She loved her family deeply. Charles was always around Naz, stopping in to say hello after watching a Pittsford High School athletic competition or running to the Post Office. You knew they had a genuine and unwavering commitment to each other. She cherished spending time with her sons and their wives. And she delightedly shared stories of her grandchildren often.

Her mentoring made me a better teacher, a better clinician, a better writer, a better human. I know she loved me and I loved her.

When I learned of her passing, I had been blasting a song on repeat in my car for two days, her name sung three times whenever the chorus was played. And I was sitting in a school parking lot in her community - it was the first time I had ever been there. I know these are not coincidences. I know she is with me. She always will be.

So I will carry on the work she did.

I will keep teaching and advocating and showing up. I will keep believing in people even when they may not believe in themselves. And I will keep showing care.

Just like she did.

https://www.democratandchronicle.com/obituaries/pnys0585368?fbclid=IwAR1TLrh-vGt0McWISpzZJDpE-teahjX71x90W7j--upbly84qv5wp_WnonA