Category: Careers

Daunting

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

main-content-management-imageBecause I grew up in a single parent family led by a strong and confident woman I am strong willed and independent. Had my husband, Mike, not been nurtured by a mother who was an equal to mine in her commanding presence he might have struggled with my personality after we married forty eight years ago today. I suppose that the real me may have been a bit of a surprise to him. I was a month shy from being twenty years old on that Friday when I walked down the aisle to exchange vows. We were still in that tingly romantic stage of our relationship. Both of us were on our best behavior. As so often happens our true selves ultimately revealed themselves in the day to day routines that evolved and Mike noticed that I was not exactly the person that he thought I was.

I’m a daunting competitor who likes to win. Since nobody ever mentioned to me that women are expected to fulfill certain roles and that we are supposed to struggle in a man’s world, as a young bride I simply threw myself full force into handling the household and preparing for a career. I was not held back by beliefs that there were glass ceilings above me or that I wouldn’t get as fair a shake as the men with whom I interacted. I carried on the way my mother did after my father died, unafraid to try almost anything. Of course Mike had unwittingly provided me with the last bit of courage that I needed to emulate the confidence that I had always seen in my mom. I had been socially shy and uncomfortable around men before I met him mostly because I had not been around males very much. Mike taught me that I could hold my own with a man and he admitted at every turn that he was my biggest fan. With him in my corner I felt able to tackle any problem that came my way, which was fortunate because I would have to muster great courage to become a lifelong advocate for my mom when she began to show signs of her bipolar disorder.

As I evolved in my marriage and my role as a woman I had perhaps the two best role models possible in my mother and my mother-in-law. I witnessed both of them walking without fear into the fray of what was at that time a truly male dominated world. They encouraged me to follow my dreams no matter where they might lead. My mother-in-law in particular gave me the priceless gift of her time, often rescuing me when one of my children was sick by coming to babysit while I went to work. When I had a job that kept me at work until late in the evening she faithfully came to my home each afternoon so that my youngsters would not have to be latchkey kids. She prepared dinner to give me a break when I arrived home exhausted. While these may sound like very traditional womanly duties they came accompanied with profound advice that kept me feeling that I was doing the right thing in pouring myself so totally into my work.

Then there was Mike who never complained when I became absorbed in the many time consuming aspects of being a successful educator. My days and nights and weekends were filled with planning, grading, attending seminars, and working toward an advanced degree. I often spent more time with my students and our daughters than I did with him but he understood my need to perfect my craft and to give my all to the work that I thought to be so important. He took pride in my accomplishments and supported me without question even as he sometimes sacrificed his own needs. To this very day when I become involved in new pursuits his only bit of caution is that I do what makes me happy, not what I think that other people may want.

I suppose that the key to the success that Mike and I have achieved in our marriage is that we are truly best friends in every sense of the word. Neither of us has ever felt that one is superior to the other. We equally value the contributions that each of us has made to the partnership. While I compete with the world at large, neither of us feel compelled to outrank the other. We are truly coequals, each with different skill sets that are important to the family. There are no jealousies or fears. We can be ourselves and feel completely safe. Nothing in forty eight years has given either of us reason to believe that we cannot trust the other without reservation. Ours is a union of mutual respect and admiration.

I suppose that my circumstances have been fortunate in that my brand of feminism is a bit different from most. I did not grow up around domineering men, instead I watched a widow woman earn a college degree, work as a teacher and researcher, purchase and pay for a home, raise three well adjusted children and lead a profoundly happy existence all without assistance from a man, while also battling the horrifically debilitating symptoms of mental illness. I married a man who gave me total freedom in determining how I wanted to use my own talents and then became my most devoted cheerleader. As if that wasn’t enough to encourage me to be formidable in my interaction with the world, my mother-in-law became a source of limitless wisdom as I drew upon her experiences as the manager of a family electrical business, the chief financial officer of a mega church, and a well read student of history and politics. Based on the complaints that I hear from women today I suppose that I was too blessed and too ignorant to realize that I was not supposed to feel as equal to men as I always have.

I grew up in what is defined as a classically dysfunctional family. We were poor and had no father. Because of my mom’s optimism and strength, somehow the situation never felt that terrible. I married a man when I was too young to have enough sense to make things work but our love and respect for one another carried us through both triumph and tragedy year after wonderful year. My incredible mother-in-law served as a sounding board and a sterling example of what a determined woman might accomplish even when all of the world is telling her that she may not have the right stuff. These are the people that I knew and the privileges that I had that made me the woman that I am. As daunting as the world may sometimes be I have always been able to tackle it. The real key to my success as a woman has not been in having some kind of special sources of influence, because I have never had any, but in being valued and loved.

Meh!

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

02062013_govworkers_articleAnother Labor Day has come and gone and I find myself once again going, “Meh!” I’ve never liked Labor Day. Like Pavlov’s dog I instinctively react negatively to the mere mention of it. I’ve always thought that it is misplaced on the annual calendar, coming as it does at the end of the summer. Instead of invoking a sense of celebration like other national holidays it seems to be an ill advised attempt to simply throw in one more long weekend before the days grow short and the nights long. I’ve always thought that it might be more appreciated if it were scheduled for March or April when there is often a dearth of downtime for those who work. Since I’ve been ruled by the school calendar for the majority of my life Labor Day signals an end to fun in my mind, not a reason to be happy.

Back when I was a kid the Labor Day holiday was a trigger warning that school was about to start. It was our last big day of freedom before returning to the grind of rising early, stuffing our bare feet into tight shoes and bringing home mountains of homework each evening. It told us that the lazy days of summer were over and it was time to get serious again. I always felt as though I was attending a wake when I gathered with our extended family for a final day at the beach. There would be no time for such frivolities in the coming weeks. We would all be busy with our over filled schedules and it would be many weeks before we got to rest again. Not even the promise of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas assuaged the angst that I always felt on Labor Day.

As an adult I chose teaching as a career and the academic year usually commenced for me during the first weeks of August. Labor Day should have been a welcome respite from the rush of beginning my work anew but somehow it only seemed to interrupt the flow of the routine that I was attempting to establish in my classroom. I always felt that I would have appreciated a day off a bit farther down the line rather than so soon after my students had arrived.

Labor Day also marked a moment when a change of attire was in order. Thankfully the world of fashion is a bit less dictatorial than it used to be but there was a time when the arrival of Labor Day meant that white slacks and dresses had to be stored away with other summer gear. Sandals and shorts were frowned upon unless they were worn only inside the home. For those of us living in the hot humid conditions of the south the traditional fall fashions that debuted after the working man’s holiday were far too dark and heavy. Luckily we managed to come to our senses and now nobody seems to notice if we are still sporting our flip flops and capris deep into December. Today even school bands often have two sets of uniforms that include warm weather styles along with the more traditional looks.

For so long Jerry Lewis was to Labor Day as Santa Claus was to Christmas. His marathon for Muscular Dystrophy was bigger than the blitz of football games that now dominate the weekend. I never failed to get emotionally involved with the men, women and children struck down by that terrible disease and I opened my pocket to the kids who came to my door seeking donations as well as the firefighters who held out their boots at traffic lights. I was mesmerized by the tote board that registered ever higher donations as the hours wore on and Jerry Lewis appeared as though he was about to collapse from fatigue. The whole country was focused on securing a cure for Jerry’s Kids and we all hoped and prayed that it would be found in our lifetime. Eventually Jerry got old, the miracles that we expected didn’t happen and we all seemed to lose interest in spending hours watching celebrities doing little more than talk. Slowly but surely the annual program faded into nothing more than a memory, replaced by wall to wall football games and marathons of popular television series.

We definitely need to honor our working men and women but somehow the intent of the Labor Day holiday seems to have become lost in translation. It is just another way to have a long weekend filled with exciting sales on everything from washing machines to cars. There is something a bit empty about it these days. There are no special events that are designed to showcase the contributions of the men and women who leave their homes each morning to fuel the engine of our economy. We rarely stop to consider the many facets of work that keep most of us enjoying fairly comfortable lives. In our country we have rarely had to face a situation in which things fall completely apart because the jobs or the people who do them are gone. We tend not to take much note of places in the world where a sense of security has been shattered because few are able to find employment.

We often grumble when we are involved in the daily grind of work but deep in our hearts we understand that the alternative of being without a means of supporting ourselves and our families is frightening. Sadly many of the traditional sources of work are going the way of the dinosaurs. As I have traveled around the country I have noticed so many manufacturing plants that are shuttered and empty. In my own hometown there are people who worked for the oil industry who have been unemployed for well over a year. They seek jobs but are rebuffed at every turn. Coal miners and steel workers are becoming forgotten souls in the modern economy. Even college graduates are finding it difficult to move into professions in which they once might have been heavily recruited. They find themselves settling for work unrelated to their majors that pay barely enough to get by much less reduce the debt of their student loans. These are frightening and confusing times for many who want to be part of the workforce but can’t seem to find a niche.

I worked quite hard for a very long time and earned every hour of my retirement but I understand that my own security in the coming years depends heavily on the success of the young. If they can’t find decent work the whole system begins to collapse and we all go down with them. As independent as each of us may sometimes feel the truth is that we are all in this world together. What happens to one affects another.

The numbers of elk in Yellowstone National Park have been greatly reduced all because someone introduced lake trout into the spawning ground of a smaller type of fish. The more aggressive lake trout eat their mild mannered neighbors at a rate so alarming that the little ones have almost become extinct inside the lake. The bears who used to eat the tiny fish after hibernating each year have had to satisfy their dietary needs with baby elk now that their usual source of protein is no longer as available. Thus the herds of elk are greatly diminished which has a domino effect on other aspects of nature. Much like the symbiosis in nature, there is also a chain of events that occur whenever people lose their livelihood.

I’d love to see us take the Labor Day holiday more seriously. We all need to know more about the history of work in our country and the world. We need to be truthfully informed about employment trends. Our children require good information to be able to make decisions about their futures. If we did Labor Day right it might become an educational holiday that allows us to gain more understanding of how things really are in different parts of our country and the world. I suspect that ignorance of reality is rather dangerous in the modern era and it is far too rampant. Lest we one day awake to find ourselves scrambling for food in empty grocery stores like the people of Venezuela it’s time that we learned more about our own workforce so that we might continue to provide jobs for everyone who needs one. We all depend on filling our economy with worker bees each day. Maybe it’s time that we take a second look at Labor Day. It just may be the most important commemoration that we have.

Last Chance U

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment
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Last Chance U

It seems as though I have been watching a bit more television lately than I probably should. I suspect that it is because the daily rains have made me a bit more homebound or perhaps because I spent most of July on the road and now I prefer to hibernate at home for a time. Soon I will be traveling again to Colorado and then will resume my math tutoring at two different schools. I’m slacking off before getting back into a daily routine.

Last night I watched three episodes of the Netflix documentary Last Chance U. I’m not particularly enthralled by football as a topic but this series is really a kind of psychological and sociological study which of course fascinates me. It focuses on the football team of East Mississippi Community College, a school that won the Junior College National Football Championship the year before the story was filmed. It is a place where misfit athletes come for one last shot at a spot on a powerhouse university team or a job with the National Football League.

Most of the players have talent but for one reason or another have been relegated to the football ash heap. Some were once highly recruited high school players who got into trouble at the universities that gave them scholarships. They skipped classes, made failing grades, missed practices, ignored curfews or broke the law. Some did all of the above. All were summarily dismissed. Others demonstrated amazing athletic skills in high school but were unable to muster high enough grades or test scores to win admission to a major or even minor university. These young men came to East Mississippi hoping to get one more more opportunity to reach the big time. The coach there is well known for resurrecting hopes and dreams.

The stories of each of the players resonate loudly with me. I have seen so many young people with similar baggage. I have learned how difficult it is for some kids to succeed athletically when they have pronounced academic deficiencies. I often wonder where I would be today if I had been required to meet certain sporting requirements in addition to mastering the knowledge and skills of my profession. I suspect that I would still be working at a low level job without hope of ever earning a degree. Somehow it doesn’t seem right that a gifted athlete must also carry a certain average to remain eligible to play a particular sport. I understand the idea that a university is first and foremost a center for learning but what about those who truly struggle to learn but who have a very special talent to share with the world?

I once had a student who was a star in every sporting arena. Regardless of what he tried athletically he was a standout. It might be said that he was the athletic valedictorian of the school. Unfortunately he was a special education student with multiple learning difficulties. He struggled with reading and was never quite able to pass his senior year Exit exams. With great assistance he managed to earn a high school diploma but nothing about his academic credentials enticed a university to risk offering him a scholarship. He set his dreams of playing professionally aside and learned a trade after graduating. He has done well and I am quite proud of his efforts but I often wonder where he would be today if our society had a more realistic attitude about young people like him. What if someone had offered him the opportunity to do what he does so well without expecting him to demonstrate mastery of the things that baffle him?

Oddly I often saw this young man as being much like me. We both had enormous gifts and talents. Mine happened to be academic. His were athletic. We also had disabilities. I tripped over my own feet and he struggled to read. The difference was that I was allowed to follow my dreams without having to prove my physical prowess but he was barred from doing so simply because he lacked certain academic skills. There is an unfairness in that.

At East Mississippi Community College the coaches, teachers and an academic advisor work with the young men to help them through the challenges that have heretofore blocked their way forward. It is a place of redemption as long as the players are willing to put in some effort. They must attend all of their classes, complete assignments and ask for help when they need it. Four year colleges and pro teams scout them. Many of the former players at the school have found the success that had at one time seemed to be so elusive. The adults guiding them use a combination of tough love and encouragement to keep them motivated. Some of the young men make it and some burn out.

I wish that we had more adults to help struggling students to achieve their goals whatever they may be. Far too many of our youth come from environments that do little to encourage them. For example one of the players featured in the program witnessed his father killing his mother and then turning the gun on himself. He was only five years old when he endured this trauma and it is all too apparent that he continues to harbor abandonment issues that make it difficult for him to trust anyone. Another young man flunked out at his previous university. He is married and has a child. He wants to do the right things but he often becomes stressed and worried that he is wasting time when he might do better if he were to simply quit and get a regular job to support his family. Too many of the players come from high schools where the expectations were so low that they graduated without really learning much of anything. Their academic advisor definitely has her hands full but she is doing a yeoman’s job, something that we need more of in all of our schools.

Ultimately all of the players have to man up. Only they have the final power to make the efforts needed to change the directions of their lives. In the end their story is about salvation and whether or not they have enough drive to make their final chance count. The stakes are high and I find myself rooting for them not just on the field but as they navigate the world as well. It’s been said that a mind is a terrible thing to waste but then so too is it a tragedy to fritter away any kind of talent. In Last Chance U we watch young men from broken homes and economic uncertainty as they struggle to piece together the fragments of their lives. It is a high stakes game and one which I desperately hope that each of them will win.

Welcome Back

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

cw_set-art-multi-cupcakes_s4x3We encounter so many people as we travel through life. Some are simply strangers that we pass as we carry out our daily routines. Others provide services for us. We get to know them and even like them but our only interaction is when they assist us. We work with many individuals. We often find kindred spirits who become lifelong friends. Others are destined to walk with us for a time and then quietly drift away. We see the faces, remember the stories, understand that each of them has touched us in some way.

I have taught thousands of students. Most of them are now lost to me. They moved on with their lives and I hope and pray that they have found happiness. I remember them and the impact that they had on my own life. It probably never occurs to them that I may be thinking about them, but I do. I worry about the ones who struggled and dream that somehow they ultimately found a way to change direction and find the pathways that they needed. I imagine what the outstanding ones may have achieved. Mostly I want to think that they are all doing okay.

Once in a while we experience the great joy of being reunited with people who have been absent for a very long time. It is an exhilarating experience to find them once again. Of late I have learned about the fates of many people from my childhood, my teenage years. I now know that they have done their best to be good people. They have families and accomplishments of which they are quite proud. They did well during the years when we had drifted apart. It is comforting to find them again and realize that our friendships are so easily revived.

I have also found my former students from time to time. They have recognized me in stores, at the movies, while I was dining out. They are adults who are hardly recognizable save for the smiles that return their faces to the innocence of their youth. I remember their names, where they sat in my class, the talents that they were displaying way back when. It thrills me to learn about them. There is no greater gift.

Facebook may have its flaws but it has served as a conduit for finding those who have been lost. On any given day I may learn about yet another person who was important to me but who somehow became a stranger. Just a few days ago it was through that social network that I learned about one of my students, a brilliantly talented young woman who had caught my attention when she was in my class.

She had found my profile on Facebook and had tried to reach out to me with a private message over three years ago. She opened her heart to me and must have felt hurt when I never replied. Somehow the algorithm that determines what I see on my wall prevented me from receiving her message. It simply languished in a file somewhere in cyber space while I was unaware that it even existed. In a twist of fate, last week it somehow showed up along with other notes that had not previously come to my attention. I can’t explain why the words of my student suddenly appeared from so many  years before but I am glad that they did. In the hopes that she was still somewhere out there I replied. Only minutes later she and I were conversing. It was so wonderfully serendipitous and somehow seemed to be destined.

There are people who touch our hearts so dramatically that we never forget them. This student is one such person. She was in a period of rebellion when I met her, often misunderstood by those who demanded a more regimented loyalty from the younger generation. I saw her as the magnificent soul that she was. Her talents were extraordinary. She possessed a creative imagination that marked her giftedness in virtually everything that she touched. She was so wonderfully unordinary. Mostly though I realized that somehow those demanding conformance had somehow confused her so that she didn’t fully understand her own brilliance. I tried to encourage her but never knew if I had been able to touch her beautiful heart.

I found out that she had dropped out for a time. I suspect that she had to determine who she really wanted to be. She moved to Arkansas where she experienced nature and the seasons. She began her own business as a baker and she one day began to consider even bigger ideas. She told me that I had influenced her thinking and that she wasn’t sure if she should consider being a teacher. Mostly she believes that her true talent lies in being a counselor and to that end she has enrolled in classes at a university near her home. She seems to have found an inner peace with her own soul.

I believe that she has the intellect and the strength to be anything that she wishes. She will be an asset in whichever field she chooses to pursue. She is a gentle soul filled with kindness and understanding. She has accepted herself and found the maturity and determination to march to her own drumbeat which is in actuality much like a symphony. I’m glad that I may now once again encourage her to be the person that I always believed she might be.

Somehow each of us manages to sometimes be in the right place at the right time. I suspect from her comments that this young woman thinks that I may have saved her when she was still young but the reality is that she saved me. At the time that I was teaching her my mother was in one of the most horrific stages of her mental illness. Were it not for the beautiful distraction of teaching I too may have gone insane. Working with students and especially those like this very special one kept me optimistic. They also provided me with a purpose beyond caring for my mom. It was good to get away from the horror over which I seemed to have so little control and to believe that just maybe I might be able to accomplish something worthwhile. Knowing that I did touch someone’s heart is a great gift because there were times when I was juggling so many balls in the air that I felt dizzy. I wondered if I was doing anything right.

What I would want this wonderful student to know is that she burrowed into my soul. I kept an image of her there and took it out from time to time with great pleasure. Now perhaps the two of us may keep in touch and support one another anew. I’ll never understand exactly how or why that simple message from her so suddenly flashed on my screen but I do know that it meant the world to me. Welcome back, Kristen. I’ve missed you.

The Heart of Civilization

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

challenges_for_first_year_teachers-e1440768693502When I was a child I kept my toys in cardboard boxes from the grocery store. I had one that held my dolls along with “furniture” made from an assortment of smaller containers. Another stored a hodgepodge of items like a jump rope and roller skates. Then there was my school box, a collection of books, paper and pencils that I used to pretend that I was a teacher. I kept it at the ready for any occasion in which I was able to entice my friends or relatives to participate in my favorite make believe game of being an educator. I suppose that I was always destined for working inside a classroom. Being a teacher was more than just a job. It was a vocation, something that I dreamed of doing for as long as I am able to remember.

When I was still a student my teachers were highly respected. The women’s liberation movement was in its infancy and few females worked outside of their homes. When they did, they chose traditional professions. Chief among them was teaching. The best and the brightest from the feminine half of the population were often drawn to education where they shared their knowledge and skills. I studied under the tutelage of women who might have run companies in today’s world. They were brilliant and inspiring. I knew early in life that I wanted to accomplish something significant when I worked and I believed that teaching the next generation was mankind’s most noble and important occupation. I did not choose to be a teacher so that I might pay my college bills or because I was not intelligent enough to master other fields of study. I wanted to be a teacher because I desired to do meaningful work. I had been inspired by brilliant women who had made learning exciting and I thought it would be quite wonderful to follow in their footsteps.

Over the course of my career I witnessed the decline of respect for teachers. As women overcame barriers to succeed in traditionally male occupations education became for many a less and less desirable career path. The old joke that “those who can’t, teach” became a standby for questioning the credibility of those who entered schools of education. We began to revere the women who studied business, engineering, medicine and ridicule those who “settled” for learning how to teach. It became more and more popular for schools to hire cadres of candidates from the ranks of Teach for America where individuals came from ivy league universities with impressive resumes. They donated their exceptional talents to some of our worst schools sometimes even staying beyond the two years required to eliminate much of their college debt. They became the public heroes of education while those who had purposely chosen to major in education were often viewed as inferior.

There came a time when even members of my extended family would consider what might have been had I chosen a more exciting and profitable career. They would note that I would have been an outstanding doctor or an incredible lawyer as though in being a teacher I had somehow missed the opportunity to fully express my talents and my destiny. Strangers who inquired about my life upon first meeting me would suddenly and noticeably lose interest when I revealed that I was a teacher. Often they would launch into an indictment of what they saw as a broken system for educating our youth and wonder that I would actually choose to be part of something so hopelessly inferior.

I had to learn to ignore the naysayers and to bear the wounds from the slings and arrows that are invariably aimed at educators. Still, I so loved what I did as a teacher that I could think of nothing more wonderful than meeting a new group of students each August and enhancing their knowledge of mathematics during the course of the following ten months. I understood what really happened inside classrooms. I retained the magic and the joy even in the most challenging situations. I watched the transformation of my pupils and felt the power of learning motivate them to follow their own dreams. There was no amount of money or prestige that would have given me as much satisfaction as I felt watching my charges grow and become more confident because of my efforts.

I feel a sense of pride in watching my former students become accomplished adults. They are part of a new generation that will carry out the work that drives the world forward. I know in my heart that my time with them played a part in their evolution. Seeing them succeed is the grandest form of payback for my efforts.

Whenever I learn that one of my “kids” has chosen to become a teacher or play a supporting role in education I am especially elated. Over the years I have seen many of my most outstanding students opt to become exceptional educators. I celebrate not just for them but for the world because I know just how truly amazing they are. It is as though I have been able to pass the torch of learning that has always burned so brightly in my heart. I know firsthand the joys and the accomplishments that lie ahead for them. I realize how difficult their pathways will be and how the rewards that they receive will most often be intangible. If they truly love their jobs the way I always have they will not require approval to realize the magnitude of the impact that they will have on all of society.

This year I know of several young people who will stand at the front of classrooms for the very first time. Instead of gazing up at me for guidance they will have youngsters looking to them for knowledge. It has become their time to lead. I have little doubt that each of them will be a resounding success. I know them to be of exceptional mind and spirit and they will ultimately become rock stars in their professions.

If I were to give them one bit of advice it would be to hold their heads high no matter what kind of chatter they may hear. Teachers are the foundation of all that mankind accomplishes. We show our children how to read and to think. We help them to reach out to the universe. Without teachers there would be no doctors or lawyers or engineers. Giants stand on our shoulders and we are happy to help them to reach the heights. The naysayers may criticize us and even attempt to demean us but we know better. Our profession forms the bedrock upon which all of society depends. Education is the heart of civilization. “Those who can” are the chosen ones who teach.