8th grade, Montrose Junior High School, final bell had rung, my locker was empty and I was headed for the bus. Suddenly, the music of Alice Cooper came over the intercom singing, “School’s our for the summer….” One of my favorite junior high memories.
Things have changed a bit over the years. Our last day of school was today. We had movies, awards, cleaning, “Nerd” Olympics (why would anyone CHOOSE to eat 1/2 a raw onion?), volleyball, basketball, four square, kick ball, bump and jump, popsicles and a water slide. Of course, this was just the prelude to the water balloon fight. Our students are able to earn the right to throw a water balloon at their “favorite” teacher by purchasing a book at our book fair in April. I purchase books at the book fair, so yes, I too get to throw water balloons — of course mine are thrown at students. When the final bell rang, the music of Alice Cooper wasn’t blaring over the PA, but it was playing loudly in my head — it does every year.
The end of the school year is always a good time of reflection. As a sixth grade teacher, I have the privilege of seeing the enormous distances that students travel during their middle school journey. Sixth graders who come into middle school are often small in stature, lacking confidence, and even a bit afraid. Lockers are a challenge, they are suddenly thrust into a busy hall filled with 200 students with four minutes to change classes, and teachers have high expectations that require independence and responsibility — it can all be quite intimidating. By the end of that year, they are managing lockers, moving between classes with confidence, using planners, and most are doing homework like pros. The difference between the first of the year and the end are enormous.
When you consider 6th graders who enter middle school and how much they grow in 9 1/2 short months, multiply that by three and you have a small idea about the changes that occur between the beginning of 6th grade and the end of 8th grade. It is a pleasure to see growth and maturity in these young adults.
I remember talking to father of one former student at the conclusion of his daughter’s continuation ceremony one year. I had been close to his daughter and mentioned that I would miss her. He said something like, “But isn’t that the nature of your job, you invest in them and then you turn them loose?” He was right — that is the nature of my job; but I still reserve the right to miss them.
In the fifteen years that I’ve been teaching I’ve taught children who have done and are doing amazing things with their lives. These incredible young people are social workers, writers, actors, actresses, chefs, vets, sales managers, teachers, coaches, firemen, security professionals, miners, mothers, fathers, soldiers, medical professionals, musicians, photographers, and missionaries. Several are in graduate school. I am proud of each one of them. Their success is theirs. They have worked for it and they’ve earned it.
So, today as Alice Cooper is singing in my head, I’m thankful for another year of working with amazing young people. Yes, many of them have made me crazy this year, there are some who do every year — still, I feel blessed to have them in my life. I can’t wait to see what and who this year’s class of sixth graders will be in two years — or six years — or ten years when I once again hear Alice Cooper singing in my head.
“School’s out for the summer” and even though I am relieved that it is, I’ll miss “my kids.”
The gang’s all here! Charlotte, Gayla, Frank, and Marylouise
I have two sisters — had a brother. I am exceptionally proud of all of them. In many ways they are as different as night and day…in some ways, they are carbon copies of each other.
Charlotte is 7 years older than I am; Gayla is 6 years older, and Frank was 4 years older. I remember watching them and being jealous because they always seemed so close when we were growing up. They were close, in part, because they had the same mother, a different mother than I have. Their mother died when my brother was a baby. My mom was their stepmother. Also, considering that the girls were eleven months apart, it makes sense that the two of them would be close. It also makes sense that those two would fight…and they did.
Charlotte as the oldest naturally took charge. I think that Gayla thought they were close enough in age that she should be in charge too. I’m not sure, but I think that may have been an issue of contention in their teen years. Charlotte was the one who drove the tractor for Daddy, “babysat” the younger kids, was in drill team and journalism. She is a gifted artist. Her natural ability was developed through art training that she took as a correspondence program, and later in school. When she would babysit, she protected me from my brother. Out of high school, she went to Oklahoma to college for a year and after that, she joined the Army. She raised an amazing daughter and worked hard to complete her schooling. My impression of her when I was little kid was that she was tough as nails — and she was. She was also the artist who created many Halloween costumes for her baby sister.
Gayla was not the take charge type. She has done more “taking charge” in the last ten years than I really remember her doing before — circumstances change us. I remember several times as a kid hearing her say, “I’m second from the top and third from the bottom.” She was quieter than the rest of us. Her dimples are one of my favorite things about her. She is a peacemaker — many things that bothered me seemed to run off her like water off a duck’s back. I know now that even though she didn’t act bothered, she was. Gayla is the sweet one of us, and we all know it. If you grew up in my era, you know who the Champagne Lady on the Lawrence Welk Show was; I always thougth that Gayla sang better than she did. I was right. When she graduated, she too joined the Army. I love to travel with her, even though I MUST give her a hard time about stopping all the time to take pictures.
Frank was the only boy — surrounded by sisters. He did the outdoor chores, competed in athletics and was a member the Navy Junior ROTC in high school. He was artistic and he could sing well — but didn’t want ANYONE to know it. Even as a teen, he was a problem solver who took a cheap, broken calculator, disassembled it, located the problem, and fixed it. Then, he gave it to me; I used it several years. He served in the Army and worked as a mechanic. His delight was found in his son and daughter. Life took him to Alaska twenty years before he died and we only saw him a few times. Phone calls helped, but not enough.
Had I written this blog 12 1/2 years ago, I would have had less to say about family ties. After living in a community near Gayla for all these years, I’ve realized more than ever how deeply our family ties run — and how incredibly important they are. She and I have been blessed with time together to create new memories and share our hearts. The other ties in the family are strong and important as well — even though they are different. In fact, after our brother died, I realized even more how very different our relationships with each other are — they are separated and differentiated by time and experience and location.
As for my sisters, I love them both and admire each of them for very different reasons beyond the fact that we are family.
Charlotte has overcome immense hurts and obstacles. She has allowed God to have control of her heart and life, to lead her, to heal her, and to give her a point of ministry. She exhibits the spiritual gifts of helping and giving; in fact, at two different points in the life of our family we “took refuge” in her home.
On the other hand, Gayla is the mom. She cans, cooks incredibly delicious and nutritious meals, bakes bread, gardens, landscapes, sews, pans for gold, collects rocks, cares for her grandchildren and husband. She has always been available to any family member who lives close — and as much as possible, to those who live at a distance. When our preemie son was born, she came to Albuquerque from Colorado to help.
So this walk down memory lane is to remind us that although relationships take investment and time, the investment in loving, caring, and sharing with family is never lost. Byrlene left home when I was 11, Gayla when I was 12, and Frank when I was 14. My parents were divorced when I was 12. As a result, I was in and out of “our” home and in and out of their lives — just as they were in and out of mine. By the way, don’t get me started on the idea of “1/2 brothers and sisters” — it’s rubbish. We are family because we are family — by blood yes, but more than that, by love and commitment. I didn’t understand that we had different mothers until I was 11. Even then, we were family and that was all that mattered. Had it not been for years of proximity, we would not have had time to build the family ties — to develop our relationships.
The reality of life is that it takes us in many directions. Everyone knows that things change, but when things change and others aren’t near to go through the changes with us, it may be difficult to see and understand where the other is coming from. Communication is the key to understanding. Respectful communication that welcomes input from all parties. Conversations that involve listening as well as speaking. These take time and honestly, they can be scheduled, but I am not certain that forced discussions are truly beneficial unless all parties “buy in” to that time.
Telephones, Facebook, emails, and texting will tell only what we want others to know. Vulnerability is limited — emotions can be hidden, hurts can be buried. While this kind of communication is better than nothing, it has limitations that must be acknowledged.
Honestly, I love Facebook. It gives me the opportunity to stay connected with people who I would not otherwise. I have “friends” in Europe and Africa, the US and Mexico — and I love it. I “talk” with former students, people from churches we have pastored, high school classmates — even though I only attended school with them one year, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and friends who are important to me. We all know though, that most of these “conversations” are surface and do not truly delve deeply into the heart, the emotions, or the true relationship. They are better than no contact — but they should not be our only source for relationship development.
Relationships are a gift from God. Through them we see another side of Him. Families are where we learn to care for people, to invest in them, to know them. It is in the safe, welcoming relationships of family that we come to understand how to accept others. In addition, these kinds of relationships create the climate in which we discover that are able to forgive hurts — intentional or otherwise — and to minimize the impact that pain from these hurts can have in our lives.
I come from a “huggy” family. We see each other — we hug each other; we leave — we hug again. Yes, even if we are in Walmart. When I married Mr. Gorgeous, I took that “hugginess” with me into my new family where I got more than one strange look. A few years later, my Father-in-law thanked me for bringing hugs to the family. After one particular visit, he hugged me, thanked me for being a “huggy” person, and told me he wished they had done more hugging before I came along. A hug is that touch that says, “You are family and I love you,” it makes most situations bearable. And, it reminds us that we are home.
Whether our “ties” come through our family or through other relationships, the time invested is worthwhile and necessary. Family ties — relationships — precious, irreplaceable, valuable. Worth the effort and worth the time.
Laughing - Loving - Praying 