Author: Sharron Burnett

The tress are about to show us how lovely it is to let go. —Unknown

I suppose that I have mostly held my emotions at bay for most of my life. It is not as though they do not exist. It is only that I have tried not to show them. I have a strong tendency to keep them close to my chest. I somehow believed from the time that my father died that I had to be a good daughter, a stoic who simply went with the flow of life no matter what happened. I felt compelled to take care of my mother who was shattered when my father died and I felt responsible for my brothers who were so young and innocent.

Some people think of me as a rock because I have always been available in times of need. I am one of those people who rises to the occasion when others are hurting. I am always ready to console, to listen, to care for anyone who is in need of a solace. Sadly, I never learned how to allow my own emotions to surface and while I seem to have done well masking them I found myself feeling more and more anxious, more and more on the verge of exploding as I grew older. 

I suspect that it has been unhealthy for me to keep my worries and concerns to myself. I am as human as anyone and if the truth be told I was shattered when my father died but I learned how to climb a tree and talk to the air when I was feeling especially upset. When my mother first showed signs of her mental illness I would drive around in my car sobbing and cursing whatever was causing her to suffer once again. Sometimes I would drive to a quiet spot like a park and let my feelings out like a mad woman. I wonder how many people I frightened when I did such things. Someone must have wondered who the strange woman screaming at the heavens might have been. 

It was not until a few years ago that I finally learned how to allow myself to grieve and emote in public. Sharon, a dear friend, had died and I gathered with others who loved her as much as I did. Ironically she had been a gifted counselor and was one of the few people who had seen through my facade of courage. She had urged me to learn how to let go of my true feelings. She and I had talked so easily about topics that were difficult for me to discuss with others and suddenly she was gone. 

The other ladies were weeping openly and expressing their feelings while I sat dry eyed  with a bomb going off inside my chest. All of the angst in my heart was roiling inside, trying to get out and yet I was unable to allow it to seep beyond my inner self. It hurt physically to be that way and it was only after I left the gathering that I became the woman crying in her car once again. I suppose that in that moment I knew that covering my emotions was not only wrong but was harmful. Somehow I heard my Sharon’s voice urging me to let go, to be a genuine version of myself. 

I am still working on becoming the person she counseled me to be but I am doing better. I no longer have to express my thoughts with only my writing. I am speaking out a bit more and more each day. The only problem that I have encountered is that some people feel uncomfortable with the new me who is sometimes bluntly truthful about feelings that sometimes sound ugly to them. They try to convince me to cheer up, to be my old strong self. While I understand why they would be that way I want to be free to be the real me. I have learned rather belatedly that those who truly care about me will not turn on me if I become human. I don’t have to be calm and cool and collected all of the time. I now have moments when I let people know that I am not doing well and why that is so. I let the tears come from my eyes in the company of others. It is such a wonderful feeling to be truly authentic. 

My daughters allow me to vent just as I do with them. We don’t force each other to agree on all things. We live and let live in a continual state of love. We can be angry or happy or sad with each other in ways that are healing. Now I am learning that it is okay to be that way with others. In many regards I think that people are more comfortable with me when I am not a robot operating without emotion. They see that I too have feet of clay and moments when life becomes too much. 

I realize now that the people that I have most admired are the ones who were always honest with the world about how they were feeling I suppose that I secretly longed to be like them. Now, like my gone too soon friend, Sharon, they advise me on the joys of being exactly who I am. Like the trees I have reached the autumn of my life and I see how lovely it is to let go. 

The National Assessment of Education Progress scores came out recently and showed that student assessments in science, reading and mathematics had dropped by three points from the previous year. In fact, scores are ten points lower than when the test was first administered in 1969. The questions about what is causing this are swirling and while I can’t make too many comments without studying all of the data over time, I have a few ideas.

I graduated from high school in 1966, so I have a fairly good understanding about what different subjects were like back in that time. I went to a private school and took all advanced classes. Nonetheless Pre-Advanced Placement and Advanced Placement studies were yet to come for students. Back then most high schools offered Algebra I in the ninth grade even for gifted math students. That course was followed by Geometry, Algebra II and an amalgam of Trigonometry and Pre-Calculus. Regular students only needed three years of mathematics and they were done. Many students who struggled in math first took a course called the Money of Math, fondly known as MOM. and then continued with Algebra I and Geometry. 

Over time most states adopted a requirement of four years of mathematics in high school beginning with Algebra I. Advanced students often took Algebra I in the eight grade and began their high school years with Geometry. Highly exceptional students sometimes took Algebra I in the seventh grade and Geometry in the eighth grade but they were definitely outliers. 

The top math students would learn Geometry, Algebra I, Pre-Calculus and Calculus A/B in high school. The most exceptional students would advance through Algebra II, Pre-Calculus, Calculus, A/B and Calculus B/C. All other students would take Algebra I, Geometry, Algebra II, and either Pre-Calculus or some kind of hybrid class that was less difficult than Pre-Calculus. 

The faster pace worked well for the top students but often became a stumbling block for those who were unprepared. The general pacing for learning new knowledge and skills was faster for everyone than it had at one time been. Students went from one concept to another at a rapid pace that often felt like sprinting through a marathon. It became more and more difficult to keep reviewing what had already been presented to insure that students kept that information readily intact. 

Then came nationwide interruptions like Covid when many students spent months or even entire years learning remotely. This lead to more and more use of computer generated homework and tests where students either chose answer from multiple choices or simply posted an answer without the work that was needed to arrive at the solution. It was difficult for teachers to know student strengths and weaknesses without watching them process the information in a classroom. Of course gaps began to form, sometimes even with the best of the best. 

I have been doing a great deal of math tutoring of late and I have noted schools’ continued reliance on computer generated practice and testing. More often than not the teacher never sees the the students’ work which is critical in determining why mistakes are happening. A wrong answer might come from dozens of places like copying the problem incorrectly or making an addition error in one of the steps or even not having a clue about what to do. Students are sometimes simply guessing rather than putting in the labor to get an answer. The ones I work with seem not to understand that there are ways of checking answers and understanding when a computation is way off from where it should be. Such things were the meat of the past with teachers like me insisting on seeing all of the work and then pouring over the calculations line line by line to determine what is missing in each student’s understanding. 

I was trained to look back at previous standardized tests that my students had taken looking for patterns. I would find students who had not mastered division or had to rely on counting their fingers to multiply. I saw those who did not understand the relationships between decimal, fractions and percents. I had to clear up those difficulties while also presenting new material. I had to do my best to make the processes make sense for them. I even sometimes gave them a problem with an answer that was wrong and had them study the student’s work to determine where the errors were. 

I spent five nights a week pouring over every aspect of my students’ work. I created reviews constantly and tried to show them why processes worked. I wonder if enough of that kind of thing is being done right now. I also worry that we are moving our less capable students too quickly. Just as with babies learning to walk we humans progress through learning at differing paces. Our one size fits all approach that is demanded by state tests is forcing kids to move on before they truly understand mathematical material. Once they are discouraged the gaps only grow. It’s fine to challenge someone but when they are not quite ready we have to show them how slow and steady will also win the race. 

It would be easy to blame lower scores on lazy students or bad teaching but the journey through mathematics is much more complex than that and simply judging the whole system by a yearly number is not enough. We have to ask ourselves if we are pushing curriculum to boast or if we are tailoring what we teach to the individual needs of our students. I have learned that taking the time to build confidence by showing students exactly where their problems lie and then fixing those areas leads to enthusiasm in math that might otherwise have ended in defeat and fear. Let’s start using those tests and those scores as a way to understand each and every student rather than ranking them and making them believe that they are flawed. When we get to the heart of the matter we avoid creating adults who forever hate the very idea of math. 

I think that all of us have endured times when we had to move beyond tragedies and major challenges. We woke up, dressed up, showed up and refused to give up. Watching people keep going when the going is tough beyond all imagination always inspires me, but it also brings out my compassion for them. 

My mother was a world class expert at pushing herself to overcome difficulties . She got knocked down so many times the it would be impossible to recount all of her setbacks. She lost a fiancee during World War II then lost my father when she was only thirty years old. She had three children under the age of nine to feed and raise and protect without any kind of income. Somehow she found her footing and her make believe “money tree” that kept our family going.

Just when all seemed to be falling into place for my mom she had a breakdown that would be devastating to see. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and would spend the next forty years of her life yo-yoing back and forth between health and mental illness. Though it all she managed to buy and pay for two houses, earn a college degree, get me and my brothers safely to adulthood, and maintain an optimism that belied all of the difficulties she had endured. 

Of course my Mama is my role model when it comes to overcoming hard times but I have witnessed unbelievable courage from work colleagues and friends as well. Just recently a young mother that I know was diagnosed with breast cancer. Her journey to health involved surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation. She was sick for over six months but still managed to show up for work on most days. Given that she was also a great mom to her three young children I found myself in unadulterated awe of her courage. The good news is that she is now cancer free and enjoying life with new found gusto. 

There is also the man whose son was killed in a road rage incident after a baseball game. What was supposed to be a fun evening turned into horror and he has struggled with his new reality quite openly in the hopes of using his story to help others to deal with restarting life after the death of a child. He has taught me so much about how to approach someone whose loved one has died from violence. I have learned how to face and discuss the reality of such situations with greater understanding. I no longer talk about speaking of how I have been blessed for my good fortune because he has made me aware that doing so insinuates that God took care of me but was not willing to take care of his son. I am much more careful with my words and much more willing to just let a person seethe when dealing with the unspeakable. 

I have yet another friend who spent years caring for her husband who was afflicted with early onset Alzheimer’s disease. There were days when I could not imagine how she came to work and managed to keep her sorrows out of performing her duties. Those years alone would have branded her a saint in my eyes but there was more unexpected difficulty to come. After her husband died at a young age she found new love with a man that she had known in high school. The two of them had both lost their spouses prematurely. At first they were just good friends comforting each other, but before long they realized how wonderful it felt together. They began a new life that brought them much joy. Unfortunately he has been recently diagnosed with some very scary illnesses and once again my friend is navigating between caring for him and moving forward from day to day. Somehow she still has the optimism that took her through her previous tragedy. We are all cheering for her and for a full recovery for her husband. Somehow it seems only right that she should not have to lose the one she loves again.

Then there is a cousin of mine who has now been diagnosed with brain cancer twice and she is only in her forties. She has two youngsters in the sixth and fourth grades and her treatments have been mindbogglingly difficult. Nonetheless she has kept the children centered and happy as they begin a new year of school. It is beyond me how she keeps smiling and thinking only of her babies but she digs deeply and finds the fortitude she needs without complaint. 

We all know such people and hope that when it is our turn to face difficult times what we will have the courage and wherewithal to wake up, dress up, show up and refuse to give up. The best among us somehow show us how it’s done. Still, we might take time to remember them and acknowledge how wonderful we know them to be. I think they would like knowing that we admire them. When the going gets tough, the tough keep going but we should be walking alongside them on their journeys.

As a child I always felt completely safe even though my mother sometimes warned me of dangers that might not have seemed so bad to me. She preached caution constantly like not opening the door to strangers and never getting into a car with someone I did not know. She was so worried that she had to really know the members of a family before allowing me to go inside homes to play with friends. She was never a fan of having me spend the night away from home either. I suppose like most kids I found her concerns to be over the top. I tended to believe in the goodness of all people and never really understood why she was so restrictive with me. 

As an adult I began to learn of terrible things that happened to young children when nobody was looking. I soon enough realized that my mother’s cautionary warnings grew out of both love and the reality of the world in which we live. I suppose that mostly nothing really bad happened to me because I was afraid of getting into trouble if I disobeyed. I eventually saw her wisdom in keeping me somewhat sheltered from harm. Even in the few times that a difficult situation occurred I knew exactly how to handle myself because of her constant advice. 

We want to protect our youngsters and yet it is not always possible. They might go to school and be there when a shooter takes out his rage. They may be just having silly childish fun and end up frightening someone enough to shoot first and ask questions about what is really happening later. 

Even with all of my mother’s admonishments I played pranks just like most kids do. Back then the big thing was to make crank phone calls. We had so much fun pulling a joke on friends and even strangers. iI never occurred to us that our silliness might be taken seriously and end up with a heap of trouble. So it was with wrapping houses when my daughters were young. Not only did our place get swathed with rolls of toilet paper but my daughters often joined groups to play the same tricks on other friends. While my husband and I watched through the cracks of our blinds as kids decorated our trees and and our lawn some folks got rather angry. I know that one of my daughter’s friends, who was wonderful young man, once encountered an angry father who was ready to call the police when he caught him papering his property. 

I suppose that things have become even more iffy in today’s world when people have so many guns that they are ready to point and use if they suspect that they are in danger from an intruder. So it was in my town when a young boy was playing what they now call “ding dong ditch” with his friends on a weekend evening. The young man who was only eleven years old rang a doorbell and quickly ran away but the owner of the house was ready with his gun and shot the boy in the back as he darted from the house. Many lives have been ruined over this tragedy because not only is the boy dead but the man who shot him has been jailed for murder. 

I don’t know how this will ultimately play out but I learned some time ago to be careful about approaching a home late at night when the people inside were not expecting me. My husband and I had gone to visit his parents and went to the backdoor rather than the front to rouse his parents with a knock. Our surprise visit was greeted by his father who held a loaded and cocked pistol. Luckily my husband had the presence of mind to address his father before he pulled the trigger but everyone was rattled in the aftermath. It had been so dark that my father-in-law had no idea who was out there in the shadows of night. Needless to say we never again when to my in-law’s home without first warning them that we were on our way.

I know that kids will continue to pull pranks and that people inside homes will continue to be frightened when it is late at night. The potential for an innocent death is great in these times when people are more and more frightened and more and more armed. Back in my day folks often left their doors open until they retired for bed and even then windows were open to let in air because air conditioners were rare. I don’t think they were very fearful and all but times have changed.

The proliferation of fear and guns creates an accident waiting to happen so parents would do well to keep track of their children at all times, especially at night. I would warn young people not to go up to porches and doorways after a certain hour and never if they do not know the people inside. I hate to be a wet blanket limiting the antics that have been around since Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn but it is just too dangerous to be free range like kids once were. It’s sad but the reality of what might happen is very real.

I grieve for the parents of that young boy and for the family of the man whose trigger finger put him in jail. I suspect we will have many points of view regarding this horrific event but perhaps my mother was right in voicing some caution. As parents we have to educate and protect our young. If we teach them well perhaps they will be lucky enough to avoid a deadly encounter.

Last fall Mike and I travelled to San Antonio to attend a Sting and Billy Joel concert. We love Sting and thought that Billy Joel might be fun as well. As fate would have it, we literally spent hours in a massive traffic jam and did not reach our seats at the Alamodome until Sting’s last song. We consoled ourselves with the fact that we had seen him rather recently but we were still rather disappointed as we waited for Billy Joel during the intermission. 

The man who came out on the stage seemed like an imposter with his bald head and beard but as soon as he sat down at the piano and began to play we knew that he was the real deal. The show of familiar tunes and a few that we did not recognize turned out to be one of the best we had ever seen. Billy rocked us all night long and by the end of the program the lights from phones filled the arena as everyone sang along. We marveled that we had been treated to more than our money’s worth that evening.

What we did not know is much about Billy Joel’s life story until we saw that there was a two part documentary on HBO produced by Tom Hanks. It was there that we we began to realize the musical genius of this complex man more deeply. After almost four hours of viewing we were marveling even more than we had at the concert.

Billy is the son of musical parents. His father was a pianist and his mother was a singer. He was encouraged from an early age to play the piano but he soon tired of just reading notes and began to create songs from the music that played in his head. His talent moved him to play classical pieces in different genres like rock and roll and jazz. He knew from an early age that he had to make music and his mother supported his dreams as his biggest fan.

Billy’s father was from a once wealthy Jewish family that had lost their business in Germany during Hitler’s dominance. They were all sent to concentration camps including Billy’s dad during the time of Hitler’s reogn. All of the family members died with the exception of Billy’s father who emigrated to the United States after the war. There he met Billy’s mom while the two of them were playing and singing in a musical. They married and started a family but he was never very happy and abandoned them. Billy spent most of his life not knowing what had become of his dad.

Billy’s mom struggled to care for Billy and her sister. Her bipolar disorder sometimes stole away her energy and her love for the children but Billy was devoted to her in spite of her shortcomings. She was also a heavy drinker often quelling her anxieties with alcohol. Life was erratic but Billy clung to the fun times when his mother would sing along with him with so much joy. When he chose to join a band rather than continuing his education after high school, she encouraged him to find a way to showcase his talent. 

The early years of breaking into the business were fun but lean in terms of dependable income. Billy nonetheless knew in his heart that he had something big to offer the world. He bunked with a friend and the friend’s wife while the two men found gigs and built a bit of interest in their music. Along the way he fell in love with his friend’s wife who became his muse. Many of his early songs were inspired by her and eventually she divorced her husband and followed Billy wherever he went. 

Billy Joel’s songwriting style is to write lyrics about what he knows, so many of his songs are deeply personal. They tell stories of his love, his struggles and his everyman journey. Getting them to the public was gruelling but with dedication and hard work he eventually found a modicum of success only to learn that the man who had been managing his talent had absconded with most of the funds. He had to restart his career from the beginning. Since his mind was filled with one song after another the hits kept coming. 

Sadly Billy shared some of the demons that had plagued his mother and father, including depression and heavy drinking. Eventually his boughts with alcohol and drugs were too much for his wife to handle and so she left to protect her son. Ironically she still loved Billy and he loved her but their life together was over. 

Billy has had a series of wives including Christie Brinkley who was as taken with him as his first wife had been. By the time he met Christie he was in the middle of a successful stride and was experimenting with many different sounds and types of music. He even wrote a classical piece, or at least played it, and then asked a classical pianist to write down the notes for the music. It is incredibly lovely and at one time was at the top of the classical music charts beating artists like YoYo Ma. 

Billy continued an on again off again relationship with alcohol much like his mother had always done. It damaged his romantic relationships and sometimes even his friendships but ultimately the interesting thing about Billy Joel is that even the people that he hurt still love and adore him. They seem to understand the pitfalls of genius that haunted him over the years. 

At some point Billy learned that his father had returned to Europe after he left the family. He settled down in Austria and married again. Billy found that he had a brother and the two met each other and became fast friends. His brother is a conductor so the music gene seems to be an important aspect of being a Joel. 

Billy loves the people who have been in his life and they love him. He has children who seem to echo his talent and his penchant for loving deeply. Sadly he has recently had to cancel his tours for health problems. I certainly hope he knows how much those of us who are his fans love him. His music is timeless and has been a great gift to the world. If you get a chance watch the documentary or maybe just stream a few of his songs. He is a piano man extraordinaire.