Author: Sharron Burnett

I go off the charts with every attempt to determine whether I am an extrovert or an introvert. Most of the time I land in the ninety ninth percentile of introversion. I suppose that these tests somewhat explain the tenor of my life. While I love people and enjoy being with them I ultimately require quiet time to revive my spirit. I can only take so much partying and my favorite moments with people are those in very small groups or in a quiet one on one meeting.

I vividly recall feeling a bit like a misfit as a teenager because I tended to run away from boisterous activities. Even when I first arrived at school each day I had to choice of going immediately to the cafeteria to chat with my friends or seeking the quiet of the library. I rarely went to the cafeteria. Instead I headed to the library where I composed myself for the day that lay ahead. I liked people quite deeply but only in small and mostly serene settings.

In college I initially attempted to change my ways. I eagerly went to street dances and joined the frivolities in the Cougar Den where students gathered between classes. I found rides to frat parties and joined clubs. It did not take long for me to realize that I was not having fun. I decided to be myself which often meant sitting quietly on a bench under the trees or in the Religious Center until my next class took place. Being who I was always felt good even as I wondered if there was something wrong with me.

Eventually I began to understand that each of us are attuned to the world a bit differently. I enjoy conversing with people in a low key setting but I come unglued if the environment is constantly raucous. I would finally learn that it is quite normal for some of us to find solace in alone time in peaceful settings.

The vast majority of the world is actually extroverted. Those people relax in crowded spaces with lots of fun people. After a long week of work they need to get out into the swing of things whereas I long for a good book by the fireplace. I love rainy days because they give me the perfect excuse to shut out all of the clamor of the world around me.

When I go out on errands I tend to walk under the radar. I like being alone with my thoughts and watching the hubbub from afar. I may smile at the people that I pass and even greet them but I don’t really want to engage with them in the moment. Nonetheless I too need human interaction in my life. I just set it up a bit differently.

I like to go out with no more than three other people. I find that in a grouping like that the conversations are far more meaningful. We are not competing for the right to speak. We do not have to shout or get crazy. It is always intimate and meaningful.

For almost five years my father-in-law lived in my home. He was the polar opposite of me. His extroversion was as close to perfection of that kind of personality as mine was in the other direction. He needed to have daily routines that included jokes and fun. I had often witnessed him being carried on the shoulders of his many friends as the life of the party. His stories always centered on galas where everyone was dancing and laughing and forgetting about the serious issues of the world. This is what he needed to survive and he kept that style all the way to his death. Everyone in his nursing home spoke of how funny he was.

I suspect that my father-in-law never fully understood my personality. I much preferred the moments when my mother-in-law and I would sit at her dining room table sipping tea and munching on biscuits. She would school me on whatever book or philosophy that she was studying while my husband and father-in-law were watching ball games and sharing jokes. When my father-in-law spoke of his favorite people they were often the extroverts. Ironically his very best friend was a cousin who was as introverted as they come.

As a teacher I began to understand how different the needs of each of us are. Our personality traits land along a spectrum of possibilities and no one way is either better or less than. We are who we are and almost seem to be that way from the start of our lives. I was a very serious child growing up under the care of an extroverted mother. I had a exceptionally extroverted little brother and another one who may have actually been more introverted than I ever was. Who knows how such things happen but they tell me that we should not be so quick to judge people by how they feel most comfortable being. That should include our religious feelings and even how we see ourselves on the sexual spectrum.

Our brains are constantly working and sending us message and urges that seem to be as innate as the color of our eyes. We now know that even eating habits are controlled by hormones coming from our brains. We speak of people being eight left or right brained. The powerful mechanisms in the nerve center of our bodies are yet to be totally understood but we now know that they send different messages to each of us depending on a host of factors.

I am at peace with being who I am. It feels good to understand that there is nothing wrong with me for wanting a serene environment. I still enjoy people to the max but not so much in big groups. It is in finding a corner away from everyone that I feel the closest to the people in my life. At the same time I would not dare to ask those who love a night of exciting revelry to be any different than they are. Knowing and honoring each personality is a step toward making a better world.

My mother and her siblings were first generation Americans. Their parents came to the United States shortly before the outbreak of World War I. There were eight children altogether and all but one of them stayed in Houston, Texas where they were born. They were a rowdy but loving group that congregated every Friday night at the home where they had grown up. By the time I came along my grandfather had died but I saw my grandmother almost religiously once each week.

On Christmas Eve there was a huge party at my grandmother’s home. Over time me and my cousins became adults and married and began having children so the crowd that gathered was huge. Once my grandmother died my Uncle Paul kept up the Christmas Eve tradition which became an expected annual routine. Once he was gone the gathering fell apart.

My eldest cousin did his best to get us all together after Christmas but as time went by the numbers who showed up began to wane. Before long we seemed to just give up on the idea of being able to all gather in one place at one time. That’s when we began creating our new traditions in our more nuclear families.

My brother, Michael, and his wife had a lovely home and they decided to host not just a Christmas Eve party but also one on Thanksgiving. Year after year the number of family members increased and so did the number of people at each party. Eventually my brother’s eldest daughter volunteered to host the Christmas Eve gala that was a boisterous and lovely time for celebrating our incredible family.

I took on the Christmas Day challenge and for many years I filled my home with tables where everyone feasted on dinner and congeniality. It was a great deal of work but I enjoyed being with the family so much that I did not mind. It was just wonderful to be so close and to have so many great opportunities to be together as one.

Just as with our older family traditions as the family grew and our children and grandchildren became older everyone was experiencing conflicts that made attending an annual event almost impossible for everyone. Once again the numbers dwindled and those of us hosting the events began to age and grow a bit weary of tackling such big events.

I am somewhat sentimental about traditions but I also know that things change and there comes a time when we all have to adjust to new realities. I used to feel a bit sorry for people who described their Christmas revelry as being only for the most immediate family sometimes on different days. They would tell me that Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were just dates on their calendars and that they celebrated whenever it worked well for those that they loved.

Now it seems that our once great big extended family that no doubt numbers in multiples of ten is more fractured than ever. People live far away and have jobs that may or may not allow them to fly back to Texas. Some even have jobs here that require them to work even on holidays. The young people are in romantic alliances that require them to juggle different family groups. So now it is uncertain what Christmas will be like this year. What is certain is that it will be different and I suppose that this is a change that was almost inevitable as the descendants of my grandparents’ eight children grew and grew and grew at the same time that they were moving all over the map.

I suppose that now we are more and more like families whose generations have lived in the United States not just for decades but for centuries. The only way to attempt to get everyone together is with a huge family reunion and one that does not fall at Christmastime when airports are swarming with people.

This year my youngest daughter and her brood will be in New York City where my granddaughter is working with only a few days off. I will see my daughter for Thanksgiving and maybe before or after Christmas. My eldest daughter has asked to take over the Christmas Day celebration that I always hosted and I have to admit that her invitation is a relief. As I have grown older I don’t have the energy that I once had to host dozens and dozens of people.

I still plan to decorate like a mad woman and I may invite my grandchildren to help set up the trees and place the ornaments. Then I can spend my time baking goodies for my neighbors and maybe get myself together enough to invite them to my home for a small gathering. Whatever happens I am determined to adjust to whatever works best for everyone. After all Christmas is about so much more than parties and presents. It is a spiritual time for people all over the world. Slowing it down will no doubt be a lovely change of course.

There are teachers who present the facts well enough to provide students with new knowledge. There are teachers who touch the hearts of students helping them to become the persons they were meant to be. There are teachers who make learning exciting and meaningful while also helping students feel good about themselves. It is often difficult to measure which of these three types of educators have the most impact on the young people who enter their classrooms. There is no single test score that accurately defines a world class teacher. It is in the future success of individual students that the true evaluation becomes clear.

Each of us have no doubt encountered one or more teachers who impacted our growth as individuals in a way that ultimately set us on a positive course in life. The reasons for that are many but there is a kind of magic in a teacher who provides us with a thirst for more knowledge as well as understanding and encouraging who we are as humans.

I can name several critical junctures in my educational life that enlivened my curiosity and my confidence. The first came when I was a frightened five year old starting school in a kind of fog.  I wanted to go home to the comfort of my family more than anything. Every aspect of being in a classroom was frightening to me but my teacher, a nun named Sister Camilla, took the time to comfort me. She eased me into the learning process and took note of difficulties that I was experiencing. She showed me how to overcome the slight case of dyslexia that I had. She did it all with kindness and brilliance. I learned with her guidance and gained the confidence that I needed to continue through the rest of my academic life.

The next person was my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Loisey, who seemed to be adept at working with adolescents with a mix of humor and understanding. She impressed me greatly with her calm demeanor and her ability to explain even difficult concepts with clarity. I felt happy and relaxed in her care. Somehow I knew that she was both brilliant and kind at one and the same time. Being in her classroom was quite lovely.

Later I would enter the classroom of a masterful teacher of English, Father Shane, who introduced me to the idea of becoming a citizen of the world. He opened my mind like nobody other than my father had ever done. He introduced me to art, music, theater, literature, grammar and the art of writing. Even as he heaped more assignments than it seemed possible to fulfill I hung on his every word and felt that I had been introduced to a whole new way of thinking. My success in college was directly related to the ways he developed my talents and my confidence.

I went on to enjoy college professors who undertook the task of fashioning me into a teacher able to address the delivery of both knowledge and encouragement to my students. I realized that educating young people was a multifaceted task that would bring me days of frustration and times of great joy. Working successfully on a day to day basis with young people cannot be achieved with a script or a pre-designed curriculum. Every minute of every single day requires adapting to the needs of each individual sitting in the classroom.

I saw that I had to first know my students before I would be capable of reaching them. Droning on without considering the differing ways that they learned and the difficulties that they needed to overcome was daunting. I had to dive deeply into my understanding of them and most of all I had to deliver a clear message about how much I truly cared about them. They each burrowed into my heart and once they understood that I was there for them the learning commenced.

Eventually I became a teacher coach and mentor. I appreciated the monumental efforts that I witnessed unfolding in each classroom. I saw many different styles of getting a point across. I viscerally felt the intensity of caring that the teachers provided for their students day after day. I only witnessed a handful of individuals who seemed to be unable to adapt to the sometimes grueling task of moving students through a packed curriculum while also nurturing their emotional needs. I listened to their frustrations and comforted their tears and in virtually every classroom I felt their dedication even as society was not always kind to them. They came back to their jobs year after year because when all was said and done they felt an almost spiritual calling to be the guiding forces of future generations.

Teachers work for less pay than most of their peers. They are all too often underestimated and accused of somehow being less important and less intelligent than those who work in other fields. They depend on the decisions of politicians who often know little about maintaining a classroom full of students. People unfamiliar with what they do often decide on their pay and even the content o what they will teach. Teachers are a convenient whipping post for disgruntled parents or business people or politicians. It is often claimed that they do not produce financial gain but instead take from the treasury. All too often their impact on the future is not understood. With all of the negativity swirling around them they still choose to come back year after year, not because they cannot do anything else, but because they understand and love the assignment they have been given.

It would be difficult to find a harder working more caring group of individuals than teachers. Theirs is one of the most difficult tasks in society and they take it on because they are deeply compelled to encourage the upcoming generations to reach for the stars.

I have often written about my childhood and the impact of my mother on the way I see the world. After my father died she somehow managed to keep me and my brothers fed and educated and loved. All three of us graduated from college and went on the have incredible careers and to earn advanced degrees. It was my mother’s influence that gave us the courage to follow our individual dreams. She loved and supported us no matter what choices we each made in forging the outcomes of our lives.

We grew up in a home with many blessings and very little money. There was seldom room for any kind of luxuries. My mother and I kept the house clean with a strict routine of tidying things every single week. My brothers kept the yard in shape and we all got little jobs as soon as we were able. With our group efforts we got along in the world quite well and most people had little knowledge of how strict my mother’s budget had to be. She was indeed a wizard at making things happen. She often joked that she had a hidden money tree that she used to keep us safe and sound.

All three of us worked very hard even when we became adults. My brothers earned a bit more income than I did as a teacher, but I loved my work and it was supplemented by my husband’s salary. We were able to provide our two daughters with the same kind of love and opportunities that my mother gave to me and my brothers but we still had to be financially careful. As a result I never used outside help to keep my home clean and my husband was a handyman who performed most of the repairs that we ever needed.

It was not until I was sidelined by knee surgery last winter that I finally decided to bring someone into my home to clean the rooms and freshen the general appearance of the place. My nephew had married a lovely young woman from Venezuela and she in turn had taken advantage of a program created by President Joe Biden to bring family members to the United States from Venezuela. Soon her sister, Maria, was living in her home and caring for their son while she worked outside of the house.

Maria has been a godsend for my nephew’s little family. Their son is autistic and Maria takes him to the therapy classes that he needs. She is there to watch over him when he returns. She has literally devoted herself to the task of keeping him safe and insuring that he will ultimately get better. He loves his “Tia” and she loves him but she also wanted to be able to earn some income of her own so she began to clean houses on the weekend. When I became unable to adequately keep my home in shape I asked her to come do her magic. I was able to transfer my earnings from homeschooling and teaching in a wonderful exchange.

Maria is incredible. She literally spends hours making every corner and crevice in the house squeaky clean. She moves furniture and dusts every inch of every surface. By the time she is finished the house looks brand new and I am oh so very happy. Somehow it feels right to give her an opportunity to earn some money while I am able to have a home as clean as my own high standards.

I do not get Maria here every single week. I do have other fun things that my teaching and tutoring allow me to do. I do most of the cleaning in spurts. I no longer have the energy to clean every room on the same day. I break down my chores throughout the week. I still have one bad knee so I am unable to kneel down to scrub a tub or clean the baseboards. I rely on long handled apparati to get the corners that I used to be able to attack with no trouble. Once in awhile I enjoy bringing Maria back in to do a deeper dive into the grime that builds up as part of our daily routines. She is young and flexible and even rather professional in her work so that the end product is truly a thing of beauty.

I have had to learn to rely more and more on the help of others. I used to be a human dynamo but age has made so many things more and more difficult to achieve. I am no longer able to hoist the big pots that hold my ferns and flowers. I have to ask the man who mows my lawn to do such things and he works for a very small price. Likewise I have had to empty out my attic because climbing in and out of it and then crawling on my knees is now a nonstarter. It has admittedly been difficult for me to admit that this old grey mare ain’t what she used to be.

My mother and mother-in-law quite graciously accepted their limitations as they aged. My father-in-law all too often refused to do so with the result being injuries to himself that need not have ever happened. He ultimately began to understand the importance of relying on others which was a blessing to us all.

Maria and Jose and Big John and so many others now do the tasks that my husband and I once did. We have a mutually wonderful agreement that keeps our home running smoothly and keeps me and my husband out of trouble. Realizing our limitations has become a gift to our daughters and a nice way of aging in place for us.

I would be lying if I did not admit that I am feeling anxious today. As we near the end of the campaigning season and have one final day to vote tomorrow, I worry about what the outcome of our American democracy will be. It seems as though a very needed sea change lies ahead but I actually believed that in 2024 when Kamala Harris was running for the presidency. To say that I was shocked by the outcome of that election would be an understatement. To this very moment I find it difficult to understand why so many Americans chose to return Donald Trump to office.

The damage that Trump has inflicted on our nation in just under two years is stunning to me and yet I still see very nice people that I know insisting that he is the chosen one who will keep our nation moving in the right direction. They do not understand my incessant warnings that Trump is running the United States into the ground. I have been accused of everything from being incredibly naive to being abnormally hateful simply because I express my concerns about how Trump and company are harming our democratic republic.

It frustrates me that Trump still has so many believers of his toxic political views. Most of what he sells to those who still follow him is based on creating fear in my fellow Americans. In targeting immigrants, Muslims and transgender women in particular he has created a dangerous situation for so many people who have done nothing wrong other than attempt to exist in our society without being harrassed. He has no positive policies to offer, only a grim vision of the world that demands his guidance. He rants and raves and encourages violence against anyone who would dare to challenge him. He sues individuals for having the audacity to point out his flaws.

Somehow in spite of the mountain of evidence that Trump is nothing more than an empty suit bullying his way in the world, he manages to keep a legion of faithful voters who truly believe that they are saving our nation by voting for him. It saddens me that he has managed to keep the truth of our situation from them with the help of media outlets that preach only the views of Trump no matter how absurd they may become.

I see so many signs that Americans are truly done with Trump. There appears to be a wave of voters determined to turn our ship of state away from the disastrous decisions that Trump has made in his second term of office. They seem ready to send a loud and clear message of what they believe to be the way the United States should be. Still, I have held out hope before that seemed to always be dashed in elections.

I live in Texas where we have been dominated by Republicans for many decades. They have created chaos in our public schools, brought data centers to our small towns, enriched themselves beyond what seems to be fair. My political views have not been heard or honored for a very long time. Again and again I have held out hope only to see that the candidates I supported lose by narrow margins. I worry that this will be the inevitable outcome for years to come. If we can’t break through now with outstanding choices like Jame Talarico and Gina Hinajosa I fear that we never will in my lifetime.

I will be seventy eight years old only a few days after tomorrow’s election. I have seen both good and bad in our American politics but nothing seems as horrific as what we have had to endure ever since Donald J. Trump came down his golden elevator in 2016. He has inflicted his bullying and vindictiveness on all of us for far too long. His name is not on any of the ballots but his will is very much there. He has shaped the Republican candidates and the Republican mindset into one of fear and the need for dominance over nations and groups. It is an ugly way of thinking and living that is based on hyperbole and lies. Surely there are enough Americans who want their voices to be heard. Surely this time we will overcome his dominance.

I am delighted that the people of Brazil refused to return to a far right government. I see people all across the globe asserting their freedoms. I have participated in protests and written blog after blog warning my tiny audience of the horrors that I see unfolding under Trump’s dominance. Now is the time to bring in new voices, new ideas, opportunity to negotiate rather than to blindly obey. I hope that the American people from state to state are ready for the change that we so desperately need and yet my fears keep me centered on realities that may curb my enthusiasm.

We shall see what tomorrow brings. I am hoping for at least some victories for those intent on checking the audacious power of the Republicans. It is the way our nation’s governing was meant to be. We should never accept being one voice. It is in allowing our differences to be heard and respected that we become stronger. I dream of a new day.