"Daddy are We There Yet?"

Our third child, Ben, can be quite an improviser.  I used to say of him, when he was yet a mere lad, "That boy sees trouble coming and puts out a welcome mat."  He was never BAD, he just saw opportunities...The first "opportunity" involving school that I recall was afforded him in kindergarten.  He was barely out of the gate so to speak...barely on his way in the journey...barely getting the car started...you get the drift.  His K teacher, Mrs. "Loydrock"  loved him.  I'm glad.  You remember "K" class...you get a fresh start every morning.  If you get in trouble, you might move your stick (warning), more trouble...flip your stick,  more trouble, I don't know by this time I'm ready to put your stick in the trashcan, but that's another story.  "K" teachers are very forgiving, you get  4 - 5 warnings before a note goes home, of course this depends on the offense.  Anyway, one day I was home and I got a call from Ben's "K" teacher.  She says, "Mrs. Evans, did you or your husband read the note I sent home yesterday concerning Ben's conduct."  Me, "Uhummmmm, (shaking in my boots) No.  I didn't see a note and I did go through Ben's backpack."   Mrs. Loydrock, "Well, are you sure your husband didn't?"  Me...(More nervous) "Yes mam, I'm sure, he's out of town."  Mrs. Loydrock, "That's what I thought.  Ben got in trouble yesterday, several minor offenses, anyway I sent a note home for you or your husband to sign.  I got it back this morning and it was signed just 'KEN' and it looks like Ben's handwriting.  I think I'm just going to let you handle this.  I'll send it back today."  I hang up thinking well at least he can spell "KEN".  Ben gets home from school...I say, "Ben did your teacher send me a note yesterday or today."  He gives me a precious sideways glance.  There's no where to run and nothing to say..."Yes mam."  Hand it over boy was my attitude.  He did.  I tell you his "KEN" was fantastic.  I gave the child a law review right there and then.  I covered fraud, forgery, lying...believe me I can go on and on.  When I was finished, my precious boy stomped his little foot and said, "UMP, I knew I shoulda wrote in cursive."  LOVE IT!!!  All I could think of was "Man this is just Kindergarten! if this is a journey we've got a long way to go before we get 'There', wherever the end may be."  When Daddy got home, all I could think of is "Are we there yet?" 
Justice:  He's grown and he's got some just like him!!!
Reward:  Priceless ;)

Shock Absorbers are Needed

Yesterday was Sunday and I was sick!!! Did not get to go to church.  I missed meeting with the sisters and the brothers.  As I was lying in bed snuffling and sniffling, I reflected on all the years of Sunday School I've been privileged to attend.  I was raised in a church where I believe people loved their community and the people that were around them.  I remember very fondly some of my Sunday School teachers that were older women and wonder still today how did they do it?  They put up with some smarty youngins that really didn't care about anything but playing.  I think they truly cared about us.  I KNOW that some of the younger women at the time HAD too.  There is NO way some of those young and older couples could have put as much time in us younger ones if they didn't care.  Some of these young couples opened up their homes and let us gather there; came to the church at "off" times and let us play.  They must have loved us. (But those are stories for another day, but thank you Ms. Ann, just the same!)  I like to think that now we pass that on.
      Today's story is about a Sunday School class I landed in after I became a "Young Married", and boy was I young...(That also is another story.)  I won't even change this name because I don't feel I need to.  The teacher was Mr. Shorty Legget.  My husband was the Music Director at the church, so often he was not in Sunday School, in fact I don't think he ever attended that class.  Many of the "Young Marrieds" were needed to fill other positions in the church...teachers, helpers, nursery...etc.  I was one of the faithfuls to the Sunday School Class.  I remember on SEVERAL occasions it would be just me and Mr. Shorty.  I will never forget the love and concern he had for his class.  I remember how he came in the first time it was just me and him.  He said, "Deb, You and Ken can read the scripture and lesson at home and discuss it pretty plainly.  I think you and I will pray for our class during this hour."  He dropped to his knees and so did I.  He lifted everyone of the members of our class, whether they were there in another position or absent, by name out loud to the Lord.  He prayed with a fervency and love that left no doubt in my mind that he loved and cared for the souls that were under his tutelage.  Still today I like to think that maybe Bro. Shorty is praying for me and Ken.  I love him dearly and I have tried to convey to him every time I've seen him  how important he was in my journey.  Some of the people we meet along the way act as shock absorbers and make the road feel less bumpy.  Oh that I would be a "shock absorber" for someone along the road...let the journey begin...

Tied for the Ride but Still Rolling

At the beginning of each new school year, I remember Mama.  ALWAYS!  She was and is remarkable.     
My mama sewed for all of us, six, children.  She made everything we ever wore and she is a very talented seamstress.  When us older three girls were in elementary grades, we had a new dress for every day for at least the first three weeks of school.  When my little brother joined us older three, he had a shirt made out of the same material as our dresses if it wasn't too "girly".  Mama took pride in her "brood" and she made sure we looked good.  One of our school bus drivers complemented her by saying, "Watching your children get on the bus is like watching a fashion show every morning."  Mama loved that and rightfully so, she worked hard for us.  (Mama if I haven't said so a million times already, "Thanks.")  Anyway, none of our dresses were "Plain Jane."  They had the ruffles and the big bows, the collars and the buttons, the puffed sleeves and the frilly aprons.  The big bows in the back of my dresses were my favorite.  I've always had a body with a built in bustle, if you know what I mean, a bow on my rear set the whole outfit off!   That big bow came in real handy one day for my third grade teacher, Mrs. "Edgear". 
    I had a REAL hard time staying in one place, still do, can't sit still for long.  And one of my favorite things to do was and is to dance around a classroom and maybe help someone along the way.  Mrs. Edgear had enjoyed all of the frivolity from me she could on this particular day.  She told me, "If you don't get in your chair and stay there, I'm going to use your big beautiful bow to tie you to your chair."  I guess I didn't think she would, you know it, I got up and sashayed around the room, I'm sure to help some unfortunate speller or something.  Here she came, and you got it again, she tied me to my chair with my bow.  And there I stayed for the rest of the day.  Today that would probably mean a lawsuit...then it meant when I got home a scolding and probably a whipping.  Which, by the way, explains my bustle today...permanent swelling...Either way I learned to stay in my seat and ENJOY THE RIDE...

And That's How We "Honor" Roll!

In twenty years I really don't know how many students I have taught.  There are so many memories and so many faces that come to mind.  Some stand out for reasons I can't explain, and some just tug at my heart.  I don't know about other teachers, but I really can't explain why I just absolutely LOVE some students.  These are what some call the "brats".  My mama said it's because I are one!  Don't care.  Every now and then I'll dream of one at night and wonder if they made it.  Sometimes it's hard on those of us that like to walk on the edge with our tongues out singing, "Nana-nana-boo-boo".  One came and visited with me last night as I was dreaming.  His name, "Destin" (as in Florida) an African American male that I had the privilege to teach math to in fifth and sixth grade.  He got thrown out of a lot of different classes by a lot of different teachers for a lot of different reasons.  But for some reason, I loved him.  I thought he brought a lot of life, spark and thought into class.  I, though, like the other teachers, did HAVE to ask him to leave one day.  He had not only stolen learning from the others that day but was disrespectful to me.  As I recall he actually yelled at me that day.  After I threw him out, Destin sat in the hall and wrote me a note.  I kept it for years and it went something like this: 
     
     Mrs. Evans,  I don't know what got in to me.  That I would yell at a beautiful teacher like you.  I must be the stupidest person alive.  Next time that happens, you just call me up to the front and slap me as hard as you can and say, " 'Destin', come to your senses."   Signed Your Grateful Student

It still makes me chuckle.  I never did have to call him up front and slap him, I don't think I ever had to discipline him again.  He felt safe in my world; I understood him. 
As stated earlier I teach math.  Before Promethean Boards and Doc Cameras, I used my overhead projector A LOT!!!  I went through a whole bunch of transparencies.  Every now and then a group of students would stay in during their breaks to clean them.  What angels!  One day Destin volunteered himself and a friend of his, "Marcette".  Now Destin was not one you would leave alone in your room or that you really wanted to spend "extra" time with, but I'm glad I said yes that day.  Destin and Marcette settled in at a table to clean my used transparencies, all of a sudden Marcette yells out at me, "Mrs. Evans, this one won't come clean and neither will this whole pile."  I thought, "Oh no, I must have used permanent marker."  I walked over to where the boys were working and then I saw all the writing was backwards so I said, "Marcette turn it over."  He did and of course the writing came off; Destin frogged Marcette and yelled at him, "Boy, and it's you who wonders why we don't make honor roll."  Well, Destin I don't know where you are now or how you're doing, but you are on my Honor Roll, 'cause that's how I roll!  Thanks for the laughter along the journey.

A Much "Kneeded" Lesson

Not only am I a school teacher, I'm a preacher's wife.  A whole lot of  my understanding has come from this portion of my life.  My husband pastored a church in Natchitoches for 18 years.  What a wonderful place to grow-up!  (me, my husband, and our children) My husband has a very large contact base.  He knows people he doesn't even know he knows.  Everywhere we go he introduces me to someone, famous - lowly, it matters not to him their station in life.  He is an exceptional person.  As such, he takes pleasure in introducing others to people that can broaden their horizons and such.  At that little church, oh the people he brought in.  For one particular week he brought in a "team" of people from big cities in La.  and Texas.  These people were leading us in classes for the children, ladies, men and then as a large group.  They were published authors, big time speakers..."important" people.  One of the members of that church was a "90"  (some say she was a lot older) year old American Indian, Ma Brown.   One afternoon before the evening service, Ken asked me to take two of the visiting women around to some of our people to introduce them and invite our people to take part.  One of the people he asked us to visit was Ma Brown.  Ma Brown chose to live in a shack.  I say she chose this because the church had bought a house for her to move into that would have been "more comfortable" but she chose her home.  This home of Ma Brown's literally had cracks in the walls and floors that she covered with tar paper & newspaper.  You could still feel the wind blow through.  She dressed to match this, several layers of thick old clothes, that were very worn and dirty.  She did not live with the modern conveniences.  Ma Brown always had a dip of tobacco in her mouth; that evening she sat in her rocker and spit through the cracks in the floor as she visited with us in her one room shack.  We did not sit down.  There did not seem to be a "clean" place to sit and there we were dressed for church (hose & dresses) in all our glory.  When it was time to go, I told Ma Brown it was nice to visit with her and we hoped to see her in church.  She looked at me and said, "What you ain't gonna pray with me before you go?"  We all replied, "Oh yes mam, we'll pray."  Ma Brown scrambled out of her rocker to her knees as one of the pious three of us started to pray; she turned and almost shouted at us, "On your knees you sinners!"  Of  course all three of us dropped in our hose & dresses to a floor covered with grime but after Ma Brown prayed for us we got up a lot cleaner than we had been.  Lord thank you for the lessons learned on our knees and the pilgrim's journey through this life with your dear children.

A Lesson from the Road

One of my good teacher friends, "Suzanna", told me a couple of days ago she and her son, "Travesty" were traveling from Natchitoches to home in separate vehicles.  Suzanna warned Travesty about speeding through certain parishes where she was unfamiliar with the local law enforcement agency.  Travesty was very careful in those parishes, but getting closer to familiar ground his foot got heavy.  Almost to home parish ground, sure enough, Travesty got pulled over for speeding.  First thing he did, called mama for backup!!!  Mama pulls up, says (something like) "I'm his mama and we're trying to get home from Natchitoches."  Trooper, "Ok, just pull up in front."  Trooper speaks with Travesty:  (something like) "I'm just going to give you a warning, you need to be careful and slow down.  I'm not going to write you a ticket 'cause if I did, I'd have to write your mama one too."  When Suzanna relayed this story I laughed and laughed at her!!! (and with her)  Next morning I'm headed to Funroe.  Sure enough, I get pulled over.  Not for speeding, but for an out of date license tag!!! 
Moral of the story:  Don't laugh, you're next.
Question:  WHERE WAS MY MAMA WHEN I NEEDED BACKUP!!!?

Bought Me a Ticket to Ride

It's poetic that my first "commenter" ("Can't let you leave the station without me...") is one of my sisters!  Charlotte was on the journey ahead of me and was my first introduction to this ride called education.  She went to school on that big fine school bus, 14 A, and brought back with her wonderful things to share.  I remember after her introduction to school, Lenora (one year my junior) and I sat for hours under her tutorage.  She taught us many things and instilled in us a love for this trip even before we had come of age.  I tried the same thing when I went to school; I taught Lenora vocabulary words I knew she'd need.  But Lenora did something I had never done.  When Charlotte taught me, I kept that knowledge and tried to show off at just the right time with just the right amount of decorum.  Lenora, not so much...One day her first grade teacher, Mrs. "Rock", was introducing new vocabulary.  Her teacher asked the class, "Does anyone know this word?", knowing of course none of her darlings would.  Up went Lenora's hand.  Lenora knew the answer; Mrs. "Rock" asked Lenora how she knew the word.  This was her opportunity to shine (I sounded it out.  Oh I've been reading for years, etc...) instead she threw me under the school bus with, "Debbie told me."   I didn't know that the secrets of teaching words was really a secret, and neither did sweet Lenora, until Mrs. "Rock" called me out of my second grade classroom and told me to never tell Lenora anymore vocabulary words, that was  HER job.  She probably even had a paddle in her hand; I recieved so many paddlings I lost count of them.  I was so upset (not because of the rebuke or paddling but because our real school was threatened), but Charlotte said we could continue "playing" school we just couldn't tell everything we knew.  We're still practicing that and we NEVER tell everything we know.  So even if you get thrown under the school bus a time or two and the road is a little bumpy, the journey is wonderful.  Don't let the train leave without you, get on board!  Let the journey begin...