The start
of another academic year marks time with the consistency of my grandmother’s cuckoo
clock.
The
reminders aren’t subtle. Stores stock extra aisles of school supplies and
friends bombard social media with cute first day of school photos. I love the
reminders. I love the freshness of new tablets and pencils. I love the wonder
of learning something new. I love remembering the impact of great teachers.
The teachers with long lasting
impact taught me things that were not in their lesson plans.
Mrs. Koch
was my first grade teacher. I loved her even before she moved me to the blue
birds reading group with the best readers of the class. Our classroom was in
the heat of south Texas in the mid 1960’s before public schools were air conditioned.
A whirring fan oscillated connected to an extension cord that ran across the
floor from the teacher’s desk to the side of the room. A few weeks into the
school year, Mrs. Koch called the names of each child to walk up to her desk
and collect a paper she had graded. When I heard my name, I walked to her desk with
squared shoulders, anticipating the good grade that would be on my paper. “I
JUST told you NOT to walk over that power cord!” Her reprimand reached deep
into the corners of my emotional being which already craved approval of
authority figures. I was not listening when she gave that safety precaution. I
didn’t care about the safety lesson and Mrs. Koch may have even felt a twinge
of guilt for yelling when she saw my crushed spirit. But she never knew the lesson
on the importance of listening that I learned that day.
In
seventh grade, I was at the peak of my knowledge. Yes, I knew everything.
So at lunch one sunny day, my friend, Lisa, and I decided we didn’t need to
attend afternoon classes. In those days, we were allowed to leave campus to go
home for lunch. Sometimes we went home
and sometimes we went to the corner store to spend our lunch money on chips and
candy. On this day, we rode our bikes downtown to go shopping at a local
clothing store named “Topper’s.” We laughed as we took clothes into the
dressing room to try on, without speculation that we might be missed back in
Mrs. Huge’s homeroom class. Imagine my surprise when my mom came home from work
and asked me where I had spent the afternoon. My lesson from playing hooky in
seventh grade was simple. I don’t know it all.
Fast
forward to my senior year in high school. I had a weird mix of classes. My Math
and English classes were for university bound students. But I had not yet
decided to go to college and I wanted to manage more hours at my part-time job.
So I signed up for the school’s work program to get credit for working. Enter
Mr. Harold Womble, teacher of the work study class and expert on how to do
life. Mr. Womble introduced me to the cash envelope method of budgeting.
I used it as an 18 year old bride a week out of high school. It helped us get
through our college years on our two part-time jobs. As life grew more
comfortable, I let go of the cash envelope method and began electronic tracking
of our spending. But I would bring the envelope method back when I struggled to
stay within a particular budget category. In my 40’s I tended to need it for “Home
Décor” and I’m currently using it for “Dining Out.” Seeing my cash slip away
makes me think harder before spending. Thank you, Mr. Womble, for that envelope
wisdom.
I love the proverb that promises
Start children off on the way they should go,
and even when they are old
they will not turn from it. [Proverbs 22:6 NIV]
The
writer was advising parents to teach their children to love God and His
commandments. I think this scripture also describes well the pattern of
teachers with their students.
So all
you teachers out there, I know you work hard to prepare and teach the material
of your subject areas. But know that there are thousands of other little pushes
in the right direction that you give your students every year. And some of these
little lessons will stick forever like mine have.
1.
Listen up.
2.
Don’t think you know it all.
3. Stop spending when the envelope is empty.
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