Everyday Heroes Teach Our Children
I live in a state with one of the worst education systems in the country. I live in a county in that state that has one of the highest proportions of children under the poverty line in our schools. I work in one of the poorest schools in the county as a volunteer. With great pride, I say, “I am a laminator.”
With great laughter, my grandchildren call out, “See you later, laminator!”
I LOVE laminating. I get to operate this hot shot machine, and I get to see materials our teachers are using to teach our children. With my graduate degrees, I still have a lot to learn. Last year, laminating, I learned the properties of minerals. Yesterday, I was reminded of the critical components of fiction.
I love the school, which this past year earned an award for its test score improvements. I love the children, so fresh, so adorable, so full of energy. The librarian sings “Bye Bye Butterfly” waving her arms, and all the eager kindergarteners sing loudly and wave their arms, too. “See you soon, big baboon” makes them laugh their heads off. They are fully engaged. They are learning what a baboon looks like. With any luck at all, this year they will get a field trip to the nearby zoo.
Most of all, I love these brave heroes who work in our schools. Our state has policies which seem anti-public education. The state supports vouchers for private schools that show no accountability, and the state is proposing we lower or eliminate property taxes, further indenturing our local governments to the poohbahs in control of our state house of representatives, the state senate, and the state governor. The state has placed on the ballot a proposition to make the school superintendent of schools an elected office, not an office selected by the Board of Education, not going through any vetting process, but making the Superintendent of Education a popularity contest.
In a county known for banning more books in the schools than any other county in the United States, we NEED professionals at the highest levels.
By the grace of God, we already have them in the classrooms at the school where I volunteer. Our teachers are educated, trained, and mentor one another. They are busy at the beginning of the year laying out strict boundaries to keep the education process flowing productively. They are gathering our youngsters, corralling them, teaching them civil behavior, and best practices to achieve the standards which will propel them upwards through the system.
These teachers and administrators are planners, and their good planning gives daily examples to the students of how to succeed – in school, and in life. They live their truth. They demonstrate self-restraint, humility, humor, and toughness. They give their students the tools to succeed. They give them the basics; the ABC’s, the maths, and they polish the rough edges and develop their social skills.
With little thanks, they get up early to be at school to greet the students with a smile, even joy, so early in the morning.
These are my heroes. Their reward is touching and changing lives.
These heroes are in every school in our county, educating our citizens of tomorrow.
Pray for them, my friends, that their burden be light and that the Spirit refreshes them as they face their daily teaching responsibilities and challenges. They do the Lord’s work, welcoming the stranger, teaching the children to be kind to one another, helping them treat one another with respect and civility, how to take turns, how to make room for differences, and the fundamentals of democratic society. God bless the work of their hands!
Sunday at the Veterinary Emergency Clinic
My normal Sunday morning is quiet and contemplative. I get up early, whisper a quick “I’m going to church now” to Adventure Man and head out to what we jokingly call The Express Service. It’s for the quiet people who want to worship without a lot of embellishments and move on. Our priests are very good at respecting people’s time and creating a serene atmosphere for worship.
On my bathroom mirror is an ominous yellow sticky that says “wake me when you get up to talk about Uhtred.”
Uhtred is seeping blood and pus on his left flank. We know there are no options, we dress quickly to get to the Vet Emergency Care before the rest of the world awakes – we’ve been there before. It’s the only game in town, and weekends are busy.
We sign in. As they take Uhtred to the back to give him a superficial exam, a man comes in carrying a huge dog – maybe 80 pounds – who does not look like he is breathing.
We are updated on Uhtred’s condition and moved to a small room. A tech came by with water and an update – due to an all-hands-on-deck emergency, less urgent cases are on hold, Uhtred being a less urgent case.
We wait six hours. During these six hours, I take a break to go outside and walk; walking helps me calm my anxiety and keeps me sane. As I walk, I see another prostate dog come in on a stretcher, and desperate people with cages arriving. We’re under a high heat warning. It’s affecting our animals, too. We’re all desperate. We love our animals, and this is the only emergency treatment center open on Sunday in town. The wait seems endless.
A very competent doctor comes in and gives us two options: a stabilization one where we get him to our own vet the next day, and a complete treatment one, where they get to him when they can, but there are higher priority cases, and they just keep arriving, and they won’t get to him until late in the day. We opt for stabilization; we’d actually prefer Uhtred be treated by our own somewhat eccentric vet who has known us for years, and has treated all our cats.
We leave the clinic in relief after six hours with a cleaned-up, medicated cat in an “E” collar (for Elizabethan) to keep him from licking his wound.
As we leave, something extraordinary happens, something we have never seen before. The clinic closes its doors to incoming patients. There is one doctor, and 40+ situations awaiting her attention. Until they can bring in more emergency staff, they cannot deal with more. My heart goes out to them all, those who are trying to triage and treat these desperate cases, and those who are turned away when there are no other options.
We have a family dinner later in the day, this one an adult-only dinner where we discuss family situations and discuss options. We love these dinners, meeting with our son and his wife quietly, relaxed and open. We make a great team.
My daughter-in-law tells me there IS another option, further north, where we can take our animals under emergency conditions, a place they really like. Another resource! I am so thankful; I’ve never heard of this place, and it relieves my future anxieties about our animal emergencies.
Here There and Insanity
I have a group of buddies who gather early in the morning to swim. Everyone needs a group that can help keep them sane, and this is the group for me. We share news updates. We share reactions. We share our own ups and downs. Some of us are elders; we share our aches and pains. And at all of this – we laugh. Thanks be to God; we help each other keep things in perspective and keep a sense of humor about ourselves.
AdventureMan tells me I have a special smile for when I am in Alaska, or when I am on a boat. Both sing to my soul. It’s hard coming off a great vacation, and even harder when a heat dome covers Pensacola and there is barely a whiff of fresh breeze, even by the shore.
I thank God, too, for the life I was given, my time in Alaska, and my time with my husband living in so many different countries in service to our own country. You know, old fashioned things like building alliances, learning foreign cultures and languages, building relationships.
So forgive me if I rant now and then about the craziness I see in our current situation. Sometimes I feel like the blog name should be Here There and Insanity; as Paul says to the Romans, we are doing the things we ought not to do and not doing the good we ought to be doing.
What to do?
Here is what I wish for you – a strong partner, and a loving family. A group, or two or three, of buddies who can help you laugh when insanity happens in the world, and a belief system that can keep you grounded when moral values are topsy-turvy, shaken and tossed out.
“There are places I’ll remember all my life – though some have changed . . . Some forever, not for better, some have gone, and some remained . . . All these places have their moments with lovers and friends I still can recall, Some are dead and some are living – in my life, I’ve loved them all.”
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