A Randomly Wonderful Act of Kindness

Ebbie laughed ruefully. "Bess, do you really think we're going to have to walk to the whole way today?"

Bess looked down at her shoes. Although made in a sensible, teacher style, they were no match  for the ten miles that stretched between the two of them and town.

She looked at her friend and fellow teacher Ebbie and groaned a little. " I can't even think of that, Ebbie." She looked up at the sky. "Lord, please send a ride our way into town, " she implored.

Ebbie added hastily, "And please let it not be in the back of a chicken truck!"

They both shook their heads as if to banish the memory. In the early 1920's, hitchhiking was still a fairly safe, if erratic, mode of transportation for two brand new teachers, and it was the only way they could make it into town from their rural teacherage to buy groceries and do a little shopping. Their last ride to town had been in the back of a large truck hauling cages and cages of chickens. They themselves resembled chickens when they finally arrived in town after several stops picking up more fowl along the way.

They trudged down the road, sticking out their thumbs at the lone vehicle headed north, but it was a farmer in a Model T and he called out as he chugged past, "Sorry girls, got a cow in labor! Can't stop today!"

Bess pushed her long curls out of her face. The dust from the road coupled with the already oppressive humidity was decimating the care she'd put into her hair and makeup that early morning. Ebbie was limping slightly, even though they'd only walked the first two miles.

"Bess, I..." Ebbie began before she was cut off by a car that slid quietly in behind them and slowed to a stop. It was a sleek and shiny black, longer and larger than any they'd ever seen. Had they known anything about cars at that time, they would have identified it as a 1924 Pierce- Arrow, one of the premier luxury touring cars of the day.

A small, elderly woman in the back seat, dressed in black from her hat all the way through her exquisitely made leather shoes, beckoned to them. "Come on, girls. We'll give you a ride into town."

The chauffeur held the door as the girls stepped gingerly into the back with their benefactor. "Are you the new teachers?" she asked as they settled in, dumbfounded at the turn of events.

"Yes, ma'am, we are," Bess replied. "I am Bess and this is Ebbie."

"I am Henrietta King, " she told them. "I live in Corpus Christi now, but I still come down from time to time to check on my ranch. We can drop you in town on our way back."

The girls' eyes widened. The King Ranch was the largest ranch in the world and Mrs. King, one of the richest women in America and owner of the ranch, was almost a mythical figure. Her acumen and largesse were legendary. They never thought they'd have the opportunity to meet, much less ride, with her.

A staunch Presbyterian, Mrs. King talked with the girls of the Bible, her first foray into Texas with her missionary father, and how happy she was they were teachers. The ride was over before they knew it, but the impact of her act of kindness seared into Bess and Ebbie for the rest of their lives.

When Mrs. King passed away the next year, her coffin flanked by 200 vaqueros (cowboys) on horseback, Bess and Ebbie were there to pay tribute as well.

And when my Grandma Bess and her lifelong friend Ebbie would tell us this story, they always ended with, "You'll be more remembered for your kindness than for your wealth."

This is my first blog hop,The Random Acts of Kindness bloghop, sponsored by Wayman Publishing. They are giving away some great free ebooks today. And if you buy any of the .99 ebooks, you will automatically be entered into an iPad Mini-Sweepstakes. Visit this link: Wayman Publishing to find out more.

 

Excuses, Excuses...

Back in the days of antiquity before electronic communication obliterated the fine art of the handwritten missive, I regularly received notes from parents, usually excuses for undone homework and absences. A few gems from my collection:

*All names have been changed, but otherwise the notes are transcribed verbatim.

1. "Please excuse Mark. From being at school. He had the sh*ts all night. And then I got them to."

2. "I couldn't properly oversee Mary completing her homework last night because I was incarcerated briefly, unfortunately. While driving past a policeman parked near Darcy's Olde Time Pub, I was so taken with the beauty of a stately tree that I accidentally swerved my car once or twice. Said policeman WRONGLY assumed I was inebriated and arrested me. Therefore Mary did not finish your assignment. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to call me at xxx-xxxx. (But please do not call before noon. I feel generally unwell, so I will be in bed.)"

3. "Can't make the parent conference Friday. Supposed to be ovulating then. Please reschedule me for next week."

4. "If John acts up in class again, you have my permission to hit him. Just give him a swat and he won't give you any more problems."

5. "Rhonda did her homework last night, but when we got up this morning we saw the goat had ate it. I tryed to pull it out of her mouth, but she swallowed it right up."

6. "Jim was absent yesterday because he was sick. I enjoyed talking with you at Open House. Are you free Friday night? Maybe we could meet for dinner."

7. Chip won't be at school tomorrow. We are castrating some bulls and I need his help."

8. (While I was holding a wet book a student had just handed me, he gave me this note) "I am sorry your book got wet. Sammy left his backpack in the restroom last night and after he used it this morning and flushed, the whole toilet overflowed and soaked his backpack. Your book was in his backpack, and that's how your book got wet."

The Secret of Miss Ila Jean

Freddy nervously tucked his hands inside the bib top of his overalls, his fingers brushing against the bare skin just under his chest. Did he just hear his teacher right? Had Miss Ila Jean actually said that?

"Frederick, are you listening to me?" Miss Ila Jean sternly questioned, enunciating each syllable and rolling the r's, her rotund belly bouncing at the effort of each new word.

Freddy pulled his hands out of his overalls and nervously brushed a shock of red hair off his forehead. "Yes'm. I heard you," he replied as he lowered his eyes.

"Fine. I will walk with you home after school and dine with your family, " she trilled in her faux operatic manner, with the same gusto as if she'd proclaimed the Queen of England would be joining them. Miss Ila Jean was a big fan of the talking pictures, and often told them she believed she could be a better actress than those on the big screen.

His ten year old mind tore through different scenarios the rest of the day. Was Miss Ila Jean going to tell Mama and Papa about the time he'd tied Jimmy Singer's shoelaces together on the playground and made him fall on his nose, causing a waterfall of blood to gush forth? Or was she going to let them know about the time he'd been smoking corn silk cigarettes with the older boys? Truth be told, there were several things she could be tattling to his parents about, and although Miss Ila Jean had whaled him good for these offenses, he knew Papa would punish him again with the belt at home if he found out.

His friends gathered round him at lunch and commiserated. "She came to my house and 'bout cleared out the whole table! She even out ate my dad, " his friend Tom told him.

"I hear she just likes free meals, and that's why she goes to her students' houses, 'cause she knows the families will have to feed her, even if she eats enough for an elephant," Jerry shared, drawing laughs from the other boys.

After school, Freddy gathered his Karo Syrup lunch pail and listened as Miss Ila Jean instructed him, " I will gather your brother, Tommy, from the first grade teacher and walk to your house with him. You hurry on ahead and let your mother know I am delighted to dine with you all this evening." She unconsciously licked her lips, no doubt thinking of Mama's well known talents in the kitchen.

By the time he reached home, Mama already had a pot of chicken and dumplings going on the stove and set the table with the mish- mash of cutlery and plates they owned. Though none of it matched, she often reminded them, it was clean and serviceable. Mama sighed wearily when he told her of their self invited guest. "I only have one chicken for this, but I can throw some more dumplings in. We'll cut smaller slices of the pie, although I hear that woman can really eat, " she said in her soft drawl that reached all the way back to her native South Carolina flatlands. "Go call the horses up into the pens, as Papa wants to do some plowing after he eats."

Papa had been forced to take a job at the cotton gin while still making a go of the farm because President Hoover's promises about making the economy prosperous had turned inside out. They were making it, but barely, which was more than could be said for lots of folks in 1930.

Miss Ila Jean soon arrived with Tommy and introduced herself while Mama tried to smooth her hair and brush off her work apron. "I know my students and their families love to meet me, and tonight, it is your turn, " Miss Ila Jean magnanimously declared with all the flourishes of a high school declamation champion, which she often reminded her students she had been.

Papa wasn't home from work yet, and Miss Ila Jean took the opportunity to ask Mama where the necessary room was. "Well, Miss Ila Jean, all we have is an outhouse, and it's right back there, " Mama said gently as she pointed out the back door. And a nice outhouse it was. A two seater, and Papa had recently finished it off with some deluxe wooden shingles. Miss Ila Jean didn't look delighted at the prospect of it, but squared her shoulders and headed out.

Freddy watched her disappear through the wooden door next to the horse pens. Nick, one of the big bay plow horses, swished his tail nearby. He'd developed an affinity for chewing on wooden things, from fence posts to tree branches, and they had to keep an eye on him.

What happened next was something Freddy would remember for the rest of his days. Nick, seeing Miss Ila Jean enter the outhouse, ambled over to it himself, near as it was to his pen. Shortly after Miss Ila Jean had latched the door, Nick spotted the new wooden shingles on top of the outhouse. He took a quick nibble of one, and was so delighted with it that he quickly attacked the rest of the roof with unbridled enthusiasm.

Now, the outhouse only sat on a platform not anchored fully into the ground, to aid in ease of portability when it was time to move it.

Nick's chewings tilted and shook the outhouse, which drew horrified screams from its occupant.

Thinking back on it later, Freddy never could figure out why he didn't move to do something to stop Nick, but he didn't, and Mama was in her bedroom, trying to pretty up, unable to hear the shouts of terror.

Nick heaved one more time at the shingles, yanking upwards with his powerful neck and causing the outhouse to tip forward. A loud thump from inside heralded the latch giving way to Miss Ila Jean's portly body. The door flew open, and Miss Ila Jean rolled out, legs perpendicular to the ground, knickers around her ankles.

When Freddy later told this story to his children and grandchildren, he always mentioned that the last he saw of Miss Ila Jean was her running down the road, screaming and moving as fast as her short, chubby legs could carry her. She handed in her resignation without explanation that night and was never seen in those parts again.

Freddy shared the secret with only Nick for many years, and Freddy often gave Nick an extra carrot or two, just to sweeten the pot.

Show and Tell

Just as surely as the elephant herds migrate through the Serengeti, the teachers began their daily trek from the cafeteria across the playground back to the classrooms after lunch. The new first grade teacher, Amy, lingered behind, feeling the effects of eating a yogurt and salad in 19 minutes flat, the full teacher lunch period.

The middle school boys enjoyed their rowdy game of football near the sidewalk. Amy jumped to the side to avoid an errant pass. "Boys, be careful!" she called. Her stomach felt queasy, and another tiny flutter at her belly gave her pause. She kept moving, though, glad that show and tell was next on the agenda after lunch instead of an involved lesson.

The fluttering at her belly gave way abruptly and she felt an odd weight at her ankles. Her horror at what lay at her feet was amplified by the large crowd of teenaged boys chasing around her. There, puddled at her shoes, was her black, lacy slip, newly bought from the lingerie department at JC Penney.

Her languid thought patterns erupted to full strength in a nanosecond. Before any of the middle school crowd saw, she kicked the slip under the bushes to her right, hardly breaking stride. She'd have to retrieve it much later, after school, when no one was around.

Amy rounded the corner to her room and heaved a sigh of relief and thankfulness that she'd dodged that bullet. What a day. Fridays always seemed veer in different directions than the other days of the week.The first graders soon flooded into the room. She checked the roster of who had something for show and tell this week.

First, there was Samantha, who told a tale about her chubby baby brother. Then there was Mikey,  as unpredictable as a tornado. Still in recent memory was the time he brought one of his dad's hidden magazines for show and tell.  Amy leaped higher over a desk than she thought possible that day to intercept it just before Mikey unfurled the centerfold. This time, though, he only had a shiny toy truck to display.

Teresa was next and showed how her mom had French braided her hair. Brandon was the final one. Brandon was a forgetful yet imaginative boy who often came to school with his hair pointed in wild directions, looking as if he had just rolled out of bed. He usually forgot to bring anything for show and tell, so Amy asked, "Honey, did you remember to bring something today?"

Brandon nodded excitedly, clutching his backpack tightly to his chest. "Yes, yes, I have something really special!" he exclaimed. He stepped carefully to the front of the room. All eyes were on him as he set his backpack down and slowly reached into its depths. Like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he drew forth his prize with a flourish and held it over his head for all to see.

"It's a pirate ship flag! I found it by the bushes on the playground! They must have lost it!" he happily shared as he waved it over his head, to the delighted oohs and ahhs of his classmates.

It could have been.

It could very well have been a flag for a pirate ship, if pirates used lacy, black nylon fabric with an elastic waistband for their flags.

The Graveyard

I've been working in the school graveyard. It's a room where old machines go to die once they are replaced by newer/better/faster technology.

In my 28 years of teaching, I've seen many changes in teaching delivery. Gone are the chalkboards.

In fact, I haven't picked up a piece of chalk in over a decade. They were replaced by white marker boards, which are gone now, too, replaced by high tech white boards which you don't even write directly on. I can point to the projected image and my finger becomes the mouse, clicker, and writing utensil. It is so fancy I can take a "wand" and "slate" with me into another part of the building and still be writing on the white board in my room. My kids can take tests with handheld clickers, built like a remote and I can instantly know their scores.

Gone also are these- the purple mimeograph machines.

Anyone who's ever used one will never forget the slight buzz you could get from sniffing the papers while they were still damp from the machine. I press a button on my computer now and any copies I program in are autodelivered to a high speed color laser printer in a corner of my room.


Another one that has gone the way of the T-rex is the globe, once the revolutionary idea of world formation that caused people who supported it to be branded as heretics.

Google Earth, Map Quest, and other programs of the like allow us now to see every nook and crevice of someone's garage in Timbuktu, if they have garages there.

A once proud staple of many classrooms is also making its quiet exit- the overhead projector. Many were the days I left school with multi colored hues on the sides of my hands gained from writing in a rainbow of Vis-aVis markers on the thin plastic rolls.

Those smarty smart boards have negated the need for these heat producing little machines.

Also missing now from libraries are the first things students used to be taught there- the card catalogue.

I worked in a large college library when I was an undergrad, and I used to love the symmetry and order of all those little cards, bursting with information untold about more books than you could read in a lifetime. However, just this morning, I was amazed at how quickly some kindergartners located the books they wanted to check out from a database on one of the many Ipads in the library.

Another bastion of academia that is hanging on by mere fingernails now is the regular textbook. Because they are expensive and bulky, more and more companies are producing e-books, cheaper, easily accessible, and much more current than the stodgy textbook.

Also gone are reel to reel film projectors, VCR's, cassette tape recorders, and even DVD players. Most new films that need to be shown with our curriculum are delivered via live streaming straight to those ever present smart boards.

Gradebooks and lesson plan books have committed hari-kiri at the dishonor brought to them through the databases that now handle record keeping.

So, as I sort through what is still usable and what needs to be discarded in this graveyard, I am reminded that in all this change, some things remain constant. There will always be kids, there will always be a need for them to learn, and there will always be a need for good teaching. At least I hope so.

Teacher Gaffes

In honor of school starting this month in many places, I'm including some real, unadulterated gaffes by teachers I have known. Certainly, none of them would have been made by me...ahem...well, I'm not telling. You'll just have to make a guess as to which one is mine and mine alone.

1. A high school senior English teacher had only a few minutes to run to the restroom between classes. She hurled herself into the bathroom and got the job done speedily. She congratulated herself that she took pantyhose to be a literal meaning and didn't have panties to pull up, thus saving even more time. She hustled down the hall and was relieved to see she made it back on schedule. She flew into her lesson with gusto and noticed the students seemed to more animated than usual. She took it to mean she was truly inspiring them, and that fed her Shakespearean fervor.

She soon noticed that every time she turned her back to the class to write on the board students in the front began gasping and turning red, while others covered their mouths with eyes stretched wide. At that point, another teacher came in to deliver a paper. The second teacher quickly grabbed her arm and jerked her outside into the hall. The English teacher said, "What's going on?" The second teacher disappeared behind her and strongly tugged at the English teacher's skirt. It was only then she realized the entire back of her skirt was tucked into her pantyhose, giving her seniors a whole new meaning to backstory.

2. Another teacher went along as a sponsor on a field trip which took students and teacher for a lunch break at a pizza establishment. It was resplendent with the latest loud video games and arcades as well as giant slices of pizza. It was so noisy that when it came time to depart the teacher had to get behind each student at the games and almost yell into their ears that it was time to go. Finally, one student remained, a fellow with some emotional problems. He required much coaxing and responded well to gentle, sweet talk. This teacher always peppered her speech with Honey, Darlin', and Sweetheart when she spoke with him to keep him calm and compliant.

She got up close to his ear and said, "Come on, darlin', it's time to get on the bus with me. I've got some really fun things planned for us, sweetheart. You are going to be so excited to see what comes next! Hurry, honey, don't make me wait!" He turned around with a huge grin on his face and it was then the teacher realized this was not her student but a small man who had been playing the video games. He continued to follow the teacher and seek out the good time he had been promised for as long as the teacher remained in the pizza place.

3. Slam Books are an ugly harbinger of adolescence. In these homemade books, someone will write the name of a different student at the top of each page and other students will then write a comment about the student underneath, sometimes nice, but most of the time not.

A teacher confiscated one of these and read through it after class.  She noticed many cruel comments and was aghast. It made her feel better, though, when she came to one page for a student named Danny. It warmed her heart to see that so many comments were about his pet.

"Danny plays with his weasel all the time," and "He's obsessed with his weasel," and "Danny's always got his hand around his weasel." She had never known a student to have a pet weasel and was intrigued.

The next day when Danny came to class, the teacher told him she'd heard he had a pet weasel. "Danny, I've never known anyone with a pet weasel and I hear you take such good care of yours. Could you bring it to class one day to show everyone? It must be pretty tame because you handle it so much. I'd really like to see it." Danny's horrified expression and the outburst of raucous laughter from the class made her realize she'd stumbled onto a new euphemism.

And now for the final story, dear readers.

4. A social studies teacher spiffed herself up for picture day, wearing a lovely white blouse that she felt accentuated her curvy figure. She took care not to spill anything on or stain the blouse all day, even avoiding mishap with the spaghetti the cafeteria served at lunch. She came out of lunch pristine. The picture time for her class was soon coming up. She had just enough time to pick up the posters they'd been working on. She went to each desk and carefully held the posters so as not to bend them. They were artfully decorated maps, emblazoned with color.

She was pleasantly surprised when one student, who normally did not have his work ready, handed it to her with a smile. He must have finished this at lunch, she knowingly thought as she held his purple creation. At least it's finished, though!   A student moved to get past her in the aisle and she backed away and pulled the posters close to her so they wouldn't get bent.

She set them on her desk and lined her students up to head for the picture taking session. She led her class to the photographer, who motioned for her to come first for her picture. She positioned herself beside the large crayon prop and looked at the photographer for further direction. His eyes were round and his mouth was slightly open as he stared at her.

She thought perhaps her pose was perfect and waited for him to snap the picture. He continued to stare until finally she asked, "Is something wrong?" He could only bring himself to vaguely motion at the front of her blouse.

She looked down and saw on her crisp white blouse two large nipples of purple color anatomically placed on her chest, and underneath her left breast, the backwards, black words New Zealand.

There you have it, my friends. These are some of the untold, hidden stories of teaching. Do you remember anything amusing involving a teacher from your school days? We're a tough lot; we can take it, so share away! 

The End of Summer, the Beginning of a New School Year

For the 28th consecutive year, I've unlocked my classroom door to begin preparing for the new school year. My summer is over (we are a year round district) and I'm ready to roll.

It always makes me a little nostalgic to walk in for the first time in a new year. I think of all the literally thousands of middle schoolers I have taught, some of whom are now my colleagues.

I think of those who have gone on to smashingly successful lives and careers, and those who haven't.

I remember Johnny Joe, a doughboy of a teenager. He was his mama's only son and she spoiled him. She disappeared from his life to pursue her addictions just before I got him. He gravitated toward women teachers. I lost track of him after he went to high school, only to see his picture and name as the lead in a story about how he'd been arrested for a senseless murder he'd confessed to. I cried for hours the day he was executed several years later.

I think about Troy, who was such a perfectionist. He loved to argue and debate the finer points of literature. He questioned everything, a trait that is exasperating at times, but is also the sign of a great thinker. He is now the senior pastor of a very large church in a very large city.

I smile to think of Wesley, whose dad dropped him off at school every morning on a tractor, and Jesse, who  rode his horse to school on fair weather days (we are a very rural district). They also make me recall Andrew, who rode a bladeless riding lawn mower to school. Although he never went faster than 3 mph, he followed his mom's instructions to wear a helmet.

I think about Rebekah, the shy girl who came alive in her journal writing. Her mother told me she'd been concerned about her being so withdrawn until she found her voice and outlet in writing. Today Rebekah is a professional writer, composing music reviews for magazines and newspapers.

I remember Lucy, the very unique girl with a half grin who would speak in only one word snatches. "Water," if she wanted to get a drink, and "Restroom," if she needed to go to the bathroom. I grieved several years later when she died giving birth to her first son. I did chuckle, though, when that son, now in middle school, showed up in my class last year with his mom's half grin and asked, "Water?"

I also recall Brian, a troubled boy who often got into fights and sneered at rules. It really gave me a kick when he showed up at my school as part of an elite SWAT team on career day. My students were open mouthed as he told them, " I was a real jackass when I was your age. I hope you make better decisions than I did." They were delighted when he fastened me into his body armour and helmet and handed me his unloaded automatic rifle to pose for pictures with him.

I think of Donny, who was new to our school when Christmas rolled around. The last day before Christmas break the kids brought baked goods and sweets to share with each other. He showed me little round concoctions he said he'd made with his grandma the night before. When I inquired as to what they were, he answered, "Deer Balls".

I was thinking along the lines of spice balls and Rudolph, so I asked what they were made of. My own jaw dropped when he answered, "Deer testicles".

As I pray the silent blessing I pray everyday in my classroom, I know endless potential and possibilities are soon going to be walking through my door. It can't happen soon enough for me.