Month: May 2016

A Man of Conviction

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

13217425_10154872781052942_8943469239859733222_o-2During my years as an educator I encountered so many young people. They kept me going in a profession that is not always kind. Whenever things became especially challenging my students reminded me why I had chosen a career so fraught with frustrations. There have been so many souls who sat in front of me, some of them seemingly lost and others filled with promise. Over the years there were certain individuals who stood out from their peers. They possessed certain qualities of intellect and determination that convinced me that they were destined for success. One of those people was Shaun Wilkins.

My instincts told me as soon as I met Shaun that he was an extraordinary young man. He possessed a look in his eyes that spoke of his intelligence and unyielding curiosity. He was a reflective soul who was unwilling to simply accept pronouncements on face value. Shaun demanded to know the truth, for he was a natural born critical thinker. I also noted that Shaun Wilkins was driven by an unwavering sense of justice as well as a strong faith in God that tempered the way he viewed the world. He was never content to simply walk away from situations that he believed were unfair. He was instead inclined to want to affect positive change in the world and to fight for what he thought to be right.

Shaun graduated from KIPP Houston High School in 2010. He was headed for Tufts University in Boston and filled with a sense of great excitement. I was not at all surprised that he had been accepted to such a prestigious school. It seemed a perfect fit for his interests and outstanding academic background but the good Lord had other plans in mind for him. During his freshman year events unfolded that required him to return to Houston to help with his family.

Shaun never complained about his fate. Instead he shouldered his responsibilities like the man that he is. He found a job and did what he knew that he must do. He reassessed his options and once his world calmed down enough he entered Wiley College in Marshall, Texas, an historically Black private school dating all the way back to the nineteenth century.

Once he had resumed his education there was no holding him back. With the support of his family, the grace of God and his own resolve, Shaun Wilkins graduated this past Saturday with a degree in Sociology. Photos of the event that he posted on Facebook show his profound happiness. I so wish that I had been there to celebrate with him. I make it a point to attend the commencement exercises of my former students whenever they invite me and Shaun had requested the presence of many of us who had been part of his academic journey. Unfortunately three prior commitments prevented me from being present to watch Shaun triumphantly walk across the stage. Nonetheless my thoughts and my love were with him all day long. I know how hard he worked to achieve his goal and how earnest he has always been in wanting to understand how our society works and how he might help to make the changes needed to make our world a more peaceful and just place in which to live.

I have little doubt that Shaun Wilkins will be a positive force in our midst. Shaun has not been shy about sharing the credit for his accomplishments with his beloved family He fully understands how much they have sacrificed to always support him in his efforts. He is also vocal about his gratitude to God who stood by him even when his road seemed dark and lonely. He has not forgotten the teachers, the friends and the many people who walked with him if only for a brief time as he triumphed over the obstacles that seemed to incessantly block his path. We all watched him overcome the odds so that he might show the world that he is indeed the gifted man that I always thought him to be. Shaun’s own words speak volumes. “I have always been proud of my heritage; but to become a black man with a degree in a world that says we’re less than is an honor all its own. I take none of this for granted and none of it for myself. I give all honor to God because if it were all on me, I would have been down and out 4 years ago. I’m thankful my limits as a man are not His.”

The speaker at Shaun’s ceremony told the graduates that they have the power to achieve their goals. “You don’t have to wait for your ship to come in. You can build your own ship.” These are fitting words for a young man who has never let any setback hold him down. Shaun is ready to sail away into adventure.

My heart is filled with joy for Shaun Wilkins. He has demonstrated that life is about persistence, flexibility and a willingness to make the best of disappointments. He is more than ready to assume his place in the world, and I will continue to watch his progress with great anticipation for it will no doubt be glorious. Congratulations, Shaun. This is only the beginning. I can’t wait to see your story unfold.

Watch and Learn

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

HappyFamilies_1920x856_article_image My mother used to instruct me to “watch and learn.” I took her words to heart and began observing people from the time that I was quite young. Sometimes I became so intensely involved in this endeavor that my mom would caution me not to stare. Others noted that I sometimes appeared to be in a kind of trance as I gazed at the passing parade around me and took mental notes inside my head. My tendency to be always alert to the actions and feelings of people has served me well. I have indeed learned much simply by carefully contemplating the images before me as I explore the world. It is a habit that both entertains and informs me.

I have learned over more than six decades that as people we are all generally the same. When it comes to our families, our longings, our needs it matters little what superficial external qualities identify us. Instead our true natures lie within. We are all made of cells, organs, blood, muscles, bones but our thoughts are what make us unique individuals. There are more aspects of our humanity that unite us than divide us. Underneath the color of our skin and eyes and hair is an innate desire to to love and care for one another. We somehow understand even from the youngest age that we cannot survive alone.

We all require the loving touch and concern that almost always begins with a parent. There are of course many different ways that families are formed and not all of them are healthy, but in the main our mothers love us from the very moment that we are conceived. They excitedly plan for our arrival and decide how we shall be named. They nourish us and follow all of the necessary guidelines to insure our health. They may talk to us or sing when they feel us kicking. We grow inside the comfort of their wombs until we are ready to enter the world. For many reasons we do not always have both a mother and a father and there are even occasions when our natural parents choose not to raise us. If we are very lucky we find ourselves in homes where we will be cherished and encouraged to grow into the adults that we were meant to be. Our families provide us with the safety, security and experiences that help us to flourish. We in turn may eventually become parents or caretakers of children and we unconsciously apply the lessons that we have learned from our own childhoods to the process of building new generations of strong and caring individuals.

While I have seen grave evil up close and personal as I have studied the passing parade of life, I have also noted that we humans are mostly good. This was confirmed for me once again at three different events that I attended this weekend. The first was an end of year band concert featuring sixth graders who had just completed their first year of musical training. There was an air of unmitigated joy in the atmosphere from the moment that I drove into the parking area where parents and their youngsters were excitedly making their way to the school cafeteria where the venue was held. Everyone was dressed in celebratory fashion and many people carried cameras to record the moment for posterity. There was an abundance of smiles and laughter lighting up the festivities. The love and pride that the audience felt for the young performers was palatable. I felt a sense of great comfort in knowing that family ties remain one of the most important forces in our society.

I saw a young mother wearing a uniform of the United States Army. She was beaming as she listened to the symphonic sounds of the band. I noted parents of many ethnicities who were all spellbound by the unifying force of feelings that make all of the hard work of parenting seem insignificant. It gave me a sense of great hope to know that the world is still a wonderful place where our babies enjoy so much love.

The following day I went to an Astros baseball game because my twin grandsons were going to perform the national anthem with their school band. Once again I was struck by the number of parents and grandparents who had come just to encourage their kids. The area where we sat was a joyful place, not just because the Astros actually won the game, but mostly because the families were so supportive of one another. Again there were cameras capturing the beautiful sounds of the young musicians and big smiles of pride lighting up all of the faces.

Yesterday on Mother’s Day I saw an effusive outpouring of love for the mamas. Everywhere I went and everything that I did convinced me how much we universally treasure our moms. There were so many visitors at the cemetery that it was as congested as the freeway on a workday morning. Entire families were meeting and placing flowers and balloons on the grave sites of mothers and grandmothers. While these were somber reminders of the impact that our mamas have on us even after they are gone, they said something about just how much we love the women who care for us when we are not able to do so ourselves. It also tells me that our society has not yet gone to rot as so many seem to believe. Our family values are still quite strong.

The makeup of familial groups may appear different from the traditional ways of old but the bonds are as unbreakable as ever. We understand that the people who devote themselves to our upbringing are the ones who contribute mightily to making us who we are. Each hug, assist, lesson, sacrifice, encouragement and bit of wisdom molds us and stays with us for all time. We remember the one who brings us medicine in the dark of night. We will never forget the person who consoled us when we thought we had utterly failed. We have an entire library of memories of our parents and the many times that they gave up their own pleasures so that we might have ours. So often the real best friend and angel that we will ever know is our mother.

Being a mother is very hard work. It’s filled with worries and fears of making terrible mistakes. It requires long hours and uncomfortable moments. Mostly though it is the most rewarding pursuit on this earth. When we raise up our children to the point where we watch them fly away, our momentary feeling of sadness is instantly replaced with the knowledge that we have done something very important. We have given them roots to keep them steady and wings to set them free.

In spite of the headlines that seem to predict the end of life as we know it, the reality is that the vast majority of the world is filled with good and wonderful people. I have watched and what I have learned is that our future is bright. It lies in the millions upon millions who still believe in our children. As long as such people are around things will ultimately turn out to be just fine.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

teacher-apple-clipart-KijzBd5iqI would be remiss if I were to finish this week without acknowledging the many teachers who devote their time and talents each day to educating the adults of the future. Teachers have impacted my life from the time in first grade when Sister Camilla saw that I was a frightened and confused child. She took me under her wing and taught me how to read with love and genuine concern for my well being. Along the way I had a host of wonderful people who nurtured me and developed my interests. Mrs. Powers, Mrs. Loisey, Mrs. Colby, Mrs. Getz, Sister Wanda, Father Shane, Father Bernard, Mr. Maroney and Father Hilarion were among those who created a love for learning in me and left a lasting impression on my soul. I remember their lessons and the joy that I felt in their classes. So much of the person that I am today was carefully molded with their care.

As a mother I worried about the schooling of my own children. There were wonderful souls who shepherded them just as I had been. I needn’t have had any anxieties because my girls were given an excellent knowledge base from which they ultimately built their careers. As a family we all loved Mr. Beeson, Mr. Montgomery, Mrs. Wilson, Dr. Warner, Mrs. Pirtle, Mrs. Weston, Mrs. Stringer and Mrs. Thompson. I watched my girls bloom and grow at Jessup Elementary, South Houston Intermediate and South Houston High School. Their teachers were dedicated to making them strong writers, curious scientists and competent mathematicians. I rarely had anything but deep respect for each and every one of the educators who helped them to grow and mature.

Eventually I too became a teacher, spending the bulk of my adult life working with pre-schoolers, fourth graders, middle schoolers, and finally high school students. I loved every single minute of that experience and carry fond memories of my kids and their willingness to put up with me even on days when I had somehow lost my groove. It was hard work, but always rewarding. I made far less money than I might have in another occupation but it is doubtful that I would ever have felt as important to the grand scheme of the universe doing anything else. I always felt humbled and grateful to be allowed to work in perhaps the most influential profession that there is. For most of my teaching time I was a rather isolated soul. My days were spent inside a classroom over which I had domain. Both successes and failures were all on me. Sometimes it was a lonely existence. I often beat myself up, thinking that I could have or should have done better. I imagined that my colleagues were immune from the doubts that so haunted me. I sometimes became discouraged. When it became the vogue to create teams of teachers who met regularly I finally realized that most of the frustrations that I had experienced were shared by the others as well. We helped one another and in the process everyone was all the better.

Eventually I became a Peer Facilitator and then a Dean of Faculty. I missed the students but I greatly enjoyed watching the teachers as they worked to instill knowledge, skills, and thinking capabilities in their charges. I had never realized how many remarkable things were happening inside all those classrooms. I was supposed to be helping the educators but I found that every single time that I witnessed a lesson it was I who walked away with new ideas and information. I realized firsthand the extent to which teachers literally put their hearts, their souls and their passion into what they do. They worried incessantly about the extent to which they were making a positive difference with their pupils. They hungered to improve and to reach closer and closer approximations of perfection.

If all citizens were to witness the level of dedication that I saw they would end their negative critiques of schools. They would understand just how much the teachers care. It was rare for me to see someone who was lazy or who only worked for a pay check. That certainly happened here and there but for the most part teaching literally consumed the lives of the people with whom I worked. Not even the summer brought them total freedom from thinking about their jobs. Most of them enrolled in classes, taught children in need of remediation or created ever more exciting lessons for the next school year. Even on vacations they were constantly searching for new resources and ideas.

If you’ve ever been in a social setting with teachers you will have realized the intensity with which their students dominate their thinking. They literally focus entire conversations on speaking of ways to improve their craft. They are obsessive in their search for the best practices. Teachers think of their students when they first awake in the morning and as they are closing their eyes at night. Always it is with a sense of love and concern that they worry about whether or not they are doing everything possible.

I can’t name all of the wonderful teachers with whom I have worked. The list would be far too long. All I can do is remind them that they know who they are. We have walked together, cried together and laughed together. We have wished with all our being to be able to reach every student who sits before us. We have experienced days when we have been so weary that we wondered if we were going to be able to continue in this incredibly difficult career. Mostly though we have celebrated one tiny victory at a time. We have enjoyed those very precious moments when our efforts have brought a smile to a young person’s face. We have reveled in meeting our former students years after they have left us and seeing what successful human beings they have become.

Many argue over what the most important professions are. We certainly need our doctors and there are times when we would be lost without a lawyer. Our engineers create remarkable things and business persons keep our economic world running smoothly. When our cars break down we need a mechanic right away. So too is a plumber the person we wish to see most when our faucet springs a leak. Virtually none of these professions would be possible without teachers. Everyone who has a successful life has a number of teachers to thank.

This is Teacher Appreciation Week. I have a cousin who has showered her daughter’s teacher with adorable gifts all week long. I suspect that the lucky recipient is feeling quite loved. If you haven’t yet let one of your teachers or one of your children’s teachers know how thankful you are for the work that they do, it is not too late. I can attest to the fact that a quick email,a handwritten note or a sweet card will be treasured forevermore. Every teacher has a box of such trinkets and they mean the world. Take the time to thank your teachers. They need to hear the positive things that you have to say. Give them the gift of knowing that they have indeed made a very important difference.

Life Is Good

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

blanco_spillwayI’m a died in the wool Houstonian and can’t think of any reason why I would ever want to leave the city where I was born, but as I sit in a wonderful campground in Blanco, Texas I do have to admit that there is something seriously tempting about staying in the Hill Country forever. The wildflowers are glorious this time of year. The fields are filled with daisies and poppies. They would bring a smile to Lady Bird Johnson’s face. We are only about twenty or so miles from her ranch on the Pedernales River and it feels as though I have stumbled upon a bit of heaven. It’s easy to understand why she and her husband, the President, so loved coming here to escape from the stresses of Washington D.C. Somehow this place feels thousands of miles removed from anything remotely associated with reality.

The Blanco River that runs through the state park where we are camping is full right now and there are already intrepid souls braving the cold waters to take a spring time dip. The river appears to be quite calm today but the siren at the ranger station and the flood gauges along the roads tell a story of potential danger. If heavy rains come too quickly anyone nearby will need to head to higher ground. The bridge leading into the campgrounds is level with the water and will be impassible rather quickly if it rains. In fact it was still drying out from the storms of last week when we first arrived. There is an alternative exit in the back of the park that leads to the main highway for use on occasions when a quick departure is required. The atmosphere is so serene now that it’s easy to forget that nature can be harsh around here.

Lately there has been a long drought in this area of Texas with some cities and towns enforcing strict water rationing, but at the start of last summer there were suddenly dangerous floods reminding everyone to exercise caution in settling here. It’s beautiful country but not for those who lack respect for the land or who are faint of heart. Just as the earliest settlers had to be tough to withstand the vagaries of nature in this rugged and rocky country, so too must those who think themselves up to the task of taming the land today.

Within easy driving distance from Blanco are a number of wonderful places to visit. San Antonio is just down the road. New Braunfels is only about forty five minutes away. Austin can be reached with a leisurely fifty mile drive. Towns like Kerrville, Fredericksburg and Boerne beckon with their quaint shops and unique dining experiences. The Texas wine country is rooted here. There are beautiful vineyards stretching all the way to Llano and Inks Lake. This is a veritable paradise for those who love to just kick back and explore the local sights.

Texas may have won its independence down my way at San Jacinto but somehow this is where the heart of the state beats. We visited the James Avery factory yesterday and I was drawn to a silver charm in the image of Texas that seemed the perfect memento for our trip. The headquarters of the famed jewelry maker sit on a sloping hill in a setting as lovely as the stunning pieces that the artisans create. It was fun learning the history of that iconic company. Mr. Avery began his work in the 1950s in a single car garage and drove around the countryside with samples of his creations neatly stored in a wooden case inside the trunk of his car. By the end of his first year in business he had sold over five thousand dollars worth of jewelry which was rather remarkable for the times. Now James Avery jewelry is treasured by generations of women and each piece becomes a beloved heirloom.

It’s difficult to decide which of the many vineyards to visit when on a quest to sample the wares. I have to admit that my two favorite wineries are Becker’s and Perissos. They have wonderful products and the ambience in both places is enchanting. Unfortunately I am not supposed to consume any alcohol until I finish taking the injections for my osteoporosis, which means that I will be a tee totaler for the next one and a half years. Nonetheless I snuck in a few sips yesterday and learned rather quickly why I am supposed to abstain. For whatever reason the wine went directly to my head without even taking time to course through my digestive system. It didn’t really matter because the scenery was so wonderful that I already had a buzz from sheer delight.

I find myself feeling a bit jealous of my youngest daughter who lives just a short hop down the highway in San Antonio. There are so many incredible places not far from her doorstep. I sometimes wish that I had purchased the house next door to her when it came up for sale just as she urged me to do, but I suspect that the siren call of Houston would always lure me back home. Soon enough the Hill Country lifestyle would become routine and I would find myself longing for the flatlands of Houston once again.

It’s difficult to explain why I love my hometown so much. It has no scenery even close to what the Hill Country has to offer. It’s hot and humid and too often filled with pesky mosquitoes. I suppose that it’s charm has to do with the people there. It’s where I get to see my friends and relations. It’s where people will give you the shirt off of their backs if needed. It’s close to the ocean and it is the repository of my history. I know its streets and its stories. I have watched it grow and change from the sleepy parochial city that I knew as a child. Somehow I love it in spite of its potholes and flaws. I will always defend it when the naysayers attempt to bring it down. They only exhibit their ignorance of the secret essence of the place.

Houston is a friendly city. People who live there are mostly good. We tend to be independent and nonjudgemental and we always take care of each other. There is no better representative of Houstonians than J.J. Watt. He might just as well have grown up in one of the city’s neighborhoods. He has the natural Houston vibe. I guess that’s what makes him such a celebrity in our town. We like our heroes to be honest and kind. We don’t have much patience with flashy shows of materialism. Houston is real.

I love that I now have the time and the means to travel. I enjoy leaving my nest once in a while as long as I always get to return home. The real beauty of the Hill Country is that it is only a few hours away from my driveway, making it a destination that I plan to repeat again and again. Have trailer, will travel.

Each afternoon when the sun sets in our campsite the ancient oak tree outside our window casts a long shadow over the warm fire around which we encircle our chairs for the night. We spend an evening gazing at the magnificent Texas sky, laughing and telling stories until the logs become embers. Then we retire to our cozy quarters where I never fail to sleep like a contented baby. I don’t have bouts of insomnia in a place as peaceful and lovely as this. Instead I say prayers of blissful thanksgiving and dream of the fields of flowers and newly shorn sheep that I saw as we enjoyed a day of adventure. Life is good and nobody can steal my joy.

Finding Your Voice

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

writingI find that people are often just as afraid of writing as they are of mathematics. Because putting ideas into words is therapy for me, I find it difficult to understand why anyone would be reluctant to become an author. I suspect that I would write even if not a single person were to read my finished product. The process of creating a written record helps me to organize my thinking and gives me a purpose. If I happen to create something that appeals to others as well, that is all the better.

I tell people all of the time that the best way to start is to decide on a topic, mentally outline what you want to say and then just begin putting the words on paper as quickly as possible. It doesn’t matter if the sentences are perfect or even if you repeat yourself. The first draft is just the beginning. When you re-read what you have written you will know what kind of changes need to be made. The more you practice, the easier the process will become. Before long you will literally be able to write about any topic with fluency.

I suppose that I first began to rehearse the art of writing when I was in high school. For four years my English teacher gave me and my classmates a theme assignment every single Monday. The essay was to be based on a single word, a phrase, or a sentence. The final draft was due exactly one week later. When I was a freshman completing this task it was agonizingly brutal. I stewed over what to say all week long and usually spent my Sunday evenings sweating bullets as I attempted to find something, anything to put on the blank paper that stared arrogantly at me. Over time I felt less and less challenged by the task. I suspect that my English teacher realized that all of us would become better at crafting essays the more often we attempted to perfect our skills. Today I would actually enjoy having someone provide me with a prompt and I doubt that it would take me more than a couple of hours to knock out a fairly interesting piece.

Being open and personal always makes for a good story. It is amazing how many people identify with the things that I speak of in my essays. The human experience is fairly universal. We all have fears, dreams, tragedies, triumphs and joys. Everyone appreciates knowing that they are not alone. Good writers touch hearts, impart wisdom and make people laugh. We live in an unpredictable world. One day we feel like kings and another the sting of betrayal pulls us back to earth. Writing about our feelings and ways of dealing with them actually helps us as much as anyone else who happens reads our thoughts. I suspect that blogging has become as popular as it is because it actually assists those of us who write in dealing with the many facets of living.

I never really know what to write about on any given day. Sometimes a random post on Facebook inspires me. At other times I feel compelled to take a stand on a particular issue. I may be feeling nostalgic and desirous of walking back into history. There are times when I read about something quite interesting and want to share what I have learned. My favorite pieces are about the people that I know, for they are remarkable and I want everyone to meet them. Some days I am sad as I write, others I am angry. Most of the time I just feel happy to have the time and the means to do the one thing that really turns me on.

As I’ve already noted, I haven’t always found writing to be as easy as it now is. I had to first make a multitude of mistakes. It was sometimes a tedious task and I tended to procrastinate when the muses were not kind to me. Somehow I kept at it and over time the skill of writing became like muscle memory for an athlete, I almost did it without having to think very hard. I truly believe that the process became easier with each iteration. The best advice I might give is, “Just do it!” Perhaps you may want to simply write inside a private journal in the beginning. Let your mind be free and allow the thoughts to simply flow. Go wherever your mind takes you and enjoy the ride. Float on the waters and gaze at the blue sky. In other words, relax and don’t make a big deal out of whether or not you are creating the next great novel or editorial or memoir. Do it for yourself and make the words speak of something that you love. Eventually you will get the hang of it.

Today as I write I’m filled with many random thoughts, all of which might make good future topics. I’m disgusted that the Republican party seems have chosen Donald Trump as its presumptive nominee for President. I doubt that I will write anymore about this fiasco because I have already made my own opinions quite clear and there is nothing that I might add that will change reality or anyone’s mind.

I have found myself contemplating the phase of the parenting cycle that occurs when our children are adults and raising their own little ones. Maybe I will one day compose a piece talking about how our interactions with our offspring should evolve over time but it will be very short essay because essentially once the kids are adults all we need do is leave them alone and support and love them as they make their own way through life.

I’ve thought of beginning a mystery serial that continues from day to day rather than talking about different topics each time I write. That might be fun but terribly challenging and I’m not sure that I am ready to go in that direction yet. The idea crosses my mind frequently along with an outline for a book for young adolescents that I have mentally outlined hundreds of times. I just wish that there were more hours in the day that I might use for my favorite hobby.

Right now I’m camping with friends and they are sitting around a fire wondering how I might possibly be so engrossed with my laptop inside my trailer when it is beautiful outside. I plan to join them shortly and no doubt find material for future essays as we converse and commune with nature. The material for writing is truly everywhere.

I challenge those of you who have been thinking of writing to take the leap of faith. The only way to know if being a writer is truly something that you will enjoy is to take a few baby steps. Just start at the beginning and move forward. We may one day be celebrating a talent that you never realized was yours all along.