Category: Courage

A Girl Who Can’t Say “No”

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

stress-2.jpgI’ve always been what people might call a “good girl.” People pleasing is in my DNA. I work hard to make everyone that I encounter feel good. I rarely make waves even when it is apparent that someone is taking advantage of my good nature. I smile and ignore slights and continue to behave the way that I always have. I like the way I am. It feels nice to do for others rather than for myself.

The trouble is that now again I realize all too well that I am being used and abused in certain situations. Not everyone operates from good intentions. Of that I am all too aware and yet I often fall into such devious webs without saying a thing. I quietly fulfill the obligations that I so meekly accepted and then move on, wiser but still unwilling to say that one word that comes so reluctantly to my lips, “No!”

My mother was much like me. I suppose that I am the way I am because of her influence. She was an obedient and giving soul who would not hesitate to give someone in need her last dime. She exhausted her energy and bank account taking care of others. Then she experienced her first mental breakdown. Her symptoms were quite frightening to most people and only those who were exceptional human beings and the inner circle of people who loved her unconditionally were willing to remain steadfastly by her side.

Our home had always been a mecca for individuals who wanted to feel the warm touch of comfort that my mom was so good at providing. Our door was as open as her heart. She always made time for anyone who sought her counsel or a quick loan that would never be repaid. After Mama’s mind was attacked by bipolar disorder most of the hangers on and acquaintances were never to be seen again, even when she generously invited them for a visit. She rarely mentioned the abandonment that was so obvious nor the way people often avoided her, but she knew that it was happening. She felt lonely and hurt now and again and once even insisted that I was spending too much time emulating her old persona which had proved to be ridiculously naive. She suggested that I instead determine who would be my steadfast friends if I were to suddenly become a pariah to society. “Those are the people and causes that deserve your time. Just say no to everyone else” she advised.

Unfortunately I had already been programed to be the first to volunteer. I actually enjoy the feelings that come from sacrificing my own needs. There is a kind of selfish gain in doing for others. Of late, however, my energy is not as ramped up as it has always been. I am in my sixty eighth year of life and I have more and more limits on what I am able to give. I tire more easily and my income is fixed. I understand that I must be more selective in my generosity lest I reach a point when I am no longer able to share my bounty. I think of things that my mother told me in her days of madness and realize that there was often great wisdom in her words. I can’t be all things to all people and so I must choose my causes well.

Learning how to say “no” is a difficult task at my age. I mentioned in a Facebook post that I was going to try to do so and I found out that I am not alone in my quest to bring more balance into my life. I received a barrage of “likes” and confessions of the guilt that often comes with the simple act of refusal. One of the acquaintances that I most admire reminded me that “no” is a complete statement and requires no further explanation. She is one of the most giving people that I know and yet she fully understands that we are under no obligation to respond to every plea that we receive. In fact, if we attempt to do so our efforts will be far less effective or meaningful than if we carefully consider which causes are most important.

My sudden insight into developing a healthier attitude came about the time that my cousin was dying. I was so busy with a number of responsibilities that I had accepted that I never quite found the right moment to visit him. I assumed that there would be plenty of time to do so once my self imposed duties calmed down. Of course the scenario did not play out the way that I hoped it would. He died before I was able to wish him godspeed. It was a heartbreaking and illuminating moment for me.

I had been chasing my tail working for a woman who demanded more and more of my time without showing even a tiny bit of gratitude. When I missed a deadline during the week of my cousin’s funeral she became exasperated with me and insinuated that I had been out having a good time while she was holding down the fort. When I tried to explain the situation to her, she was unmoved. After many sleepless nights during which my anxiety level peaked at the thought of returning to work for her after the holidays, I found the answer. It was as if my mother was speaking from the grave. I knew that I had to stand up for myself and leave the situation that was rewarding in the work that I did but painful in the way I was being treated. I took a deep breath and resigned.

Of course I still feel the pangs of guilt and wonder if I should have set aside my concerns. I am a novice in the game of asserting myself. I keep wondering if I acted in haste and yet I have slept soundly since finding the courage to eliminate a worry that I never needed. I feel as though a gigantic weight has been lifted from my chest. I am quite excited about returning to a tutoring gig at South Houston Intermediate where the students and teachers treat me with dignity and appreciation. I am looking forward to having more time for my grandchildren and godson. I plan to make the calls and visits to shut ins that I have heretofore only spoken of doing. I will now be able to give more quality time to my father-in-law who has expressed more of a desire to see me as he becomes older and less able to get about.

We humans often lose our way by trying to do too much. There are limits for all of us and those become ever more apparent as we age or lose our health. We have a tendency to put ourselves in last place, forgetting that if we wear ourselves down we become less and less useful and happy. Our bodies and our minds constantly send us cues as to what we need. It is in our best interest to listen to the voices in our heads that make us anxious. They are the sentinels designed to warn us when we have taken on more than we can bear. Taking charge of our lives is not a matter of recrimination. It is a must. It’s time that we taught ourselves to stand tall and utter the most powerful word of healing that we possess, “No!”

Our Greatest Gift

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

bn-fi133_speech_gs_20141031151239I have long been a voracious reader, a willing student of things both old and new. I enjoy considering ideas and long for the days of my youth when academic institutions were places of free discussion, fountains of information from multiple avenues of consideration. I was taught by my academic mentors to be open to points of view different from my own and to listen carefully to even the strangest sounding arguments, for within even the ridiculous there is much to be learned. “Perception often defines individual truth” my professors suggested. Our beliefs are built on the foundations of our unique experiences. Our thinking is the sum total of the knowledge that we have learned and the emotions that we have felt. Our outlooks are slowly programmed as we travel through life. Unless we are willing to understand the totality of what has brought an individual to a particular conviction our arguments for or against will fall on deaf ears.

I loved the frankness of unforgettable discussions from my college days. We were encouraged to feel comfortable with a variety of philosophies. Our reading lists often included the works of thinkers who ran the gamut from the far left to the far right. We were told not to blindly accept any argument but rather to consider both the pros and cons of everything that we encountered. Lemmings and sheep were rarely welcome in the classrooms of my youth. We debated each idea on its merits and everyone felt free to hold a forum. The experience was exciting and it molded me into the open minded person that I have always attempted to be.

In the present days we seem to have adopted a different way of approaching conflicting ideas. The debates of old have evolved into wars of words. Certain ideas are not even allowed to be uttered. We are more often than not forced to choose sides even before we hear the totality of the arguments. Those who suggest that we look for compromise in thinking are thought to be non-thinkers, weaklings unwilling to take a stand. We are told that we must be on the right side of history as though there is a clear and concise way of determining which side that is. Our leaders expect us to be automatons who utter our beliefs in unison and without thoughts or questions. I shutter whenever I hear the same lines being repeated regardless of whether they come from the right or the left. Too many of us have become consumers of propaganda, believers without doing research. We follow the boy who cried wolf rather than the one who pointed out that the emperor has no clothes.

I have had to counsel college students who received failing grades on persuasive papers not because their arguments were not rational and grounded in research but because they did not regurgitate their professors’ points of view. I have spoken with young people who fear making their true beliefs known lest they become ostracized. I have watched friendships dissolve over conflicting philosophies. I wonder when our democratic society began to forget the importance of the liberty imbedded in our right to freedom of speech.

I came of age in turbulent times. My male peers were being sent to a war that many of us questioned and others supported. The dream of full integration for our Black brothers and sisters was yet to be fulfilled. My own religion was being transformed from an archaic Latin based liturgy to one that embraced many languages and tore down barriers between the clergy and the congregation. Women were forging new territory in careers once thought to be the exclusive domain of men. There was an excitement in the conversations that we had with one another. Sometimes we found ourselves in the company of friends whose thoughts were diametrically opposed to ours. We gathered around tables and debated sometimes heatedly but always in the spirit of learning. We almost always walked away with our friendships intact despite our differences.

Open debate is frowned upon today. We politely avoid topics that might bring about conflicts. We no longer know how to enjoy a lively discussion without becoming emotional. We spout sound bites rather than reasoned ideas. We close our minds and leave the room if anyone dares to utter political notions. Our feelings are so easily hurt. It is a sad state of affairs.

I find myself missing my mother-in-law more and more. She and I used to sit at her dining room table enjoying tea and cookies while our husbands watched football on Sunday afternoons. She was a convert to conservatism and I was still in my intensely radical progressivism days. We often spoke about the history of the world and the possibilities of its future. She wanted to know what I thought about the economy, international relations, religion and other subjects that would be taboo in most of today’s polite circles. She always listened with respect and then quietly presented her own reflections. We learned from each other without judgement. She was a brilliant woman who might have been intimidating had she simply closed her mind to what I had to say. Instead she taught me the power of truly open debate among friends. It is difficult to find such enjoyable adversaries like her in the super charged environment as we begin 2017.

I suspect that I am not the only one who is weary of the unofficial civil war that is waging across the globe. I’d like to think that our teachers and professors will one day return to a way of teaching our young that allows for great freedom in the exchange of ideas. I would like to see an end to the rampant use of group think in our institutions. We need more reality television like the thought provoking debates between Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley that were so popular in the late sixties. I want our news reporters to state facts, not opinions. I would rather have them ask questions and then simply listen rather than arguing and attempting to push their own opinions on all of us. I will miss Gwen Ifill because she was one of the few journalists who always remained fair minded

I was impressed by something that Van Jones of CNN recently did. Rather than repeating the idea that those who voted for Donald Trump are mostly deplorable woman hating racists he set out to learn what had really prompted them to give their nod to Trump. He travelled to different parts of the country and sat informally across from Trump voters encouraging them to talk while he listened. What he found was that their main motivation was in wanting to be heard. They felt as though they had been forgotten and somehow Trump had made them believe that they were as important as anyone in America. It was not hatred that drove them to the polls but a sense of longing to be noticed.

In the long history of the world people have time and again asked for the freedom to voice their personal concerns and to state their ideas for solving problems. It has only been when humans have been willing to consider alternative points of view that progress has been made. Our Founding Fathers understood that. They set up a republic rather than a pure democracy because they realized that it was a way to hear the voices of even those in remote corners of the nation rather than only those in our most populated areas. They long ago sat through a hot summer risking their very lives so that we might one day be able to speak our minds without fear of being silenced or imprisoned. They heard the different voices from the colonies and compromised to insure that farmers would have as much power as industrialists. They found consensus between great thinkers as different at John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, those who advocated for a strong federal government and those intent on guarding the rights of the individual states. Their genius, with the help of James Madison, eventually gave us freedom of speech in a Bill of Rights that was unmatched in the history of the world.

Let us think twice before we continue to abridge our right to peaceably assemble or petition the Government for a redress of grievances. Let’s honor our differences rather than recoil from them. There is still room in this country for both the Black Lives Matter Movement and the Tea Party, for socialists and libertarians, for democrats and republicans. We might all want to become better acquainted with the members of each group and open our minds to what they are trying to say. Freedom of speech is perhaps our greatest gift as citizens let us all encourage its unfettered exercise.

Open Hearts

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

1ebff25909b8878c31424a09e6757466I was eight years old when my family and I went to the Trail Drive In to see Tammy starring Debbie Reynolds. I truly enjoyed that movie much as today’s young girls like to watch the programs on the Disney Channel. It was a wholesome and uncomplicated film about an innocent seventeen year old who finds love for the first time. I instantly learned the words to the song Tammy that Debbie Reynolds sang so romantically in the film and belted out the simple tune as I rode my bicycle around the neighborhood. Mostly I became an unapologetic fan of Debbie Reynolds after seeing Tammy and never lost my admiration for her even as the years went by and I became a well seasoned woman.

I often caught snatches of the conversations that my mother had with her sisters when I was a child and I knew that they highly approved of Debbie Reynolds. She was an all American princess in their eyes, as uncomplicated and lovely as the character she played in Tammy. One of my aunts often read a magazine called Confidential which was a precursor to The National Enquirer. I remember seeing photos of Debbie Reynolds in the pages of that publication with her husband Eddie Fisher. He was a singer and a heartthrob of sorts but I never particularly cared for him. Because I was still an uninitiated child I thought that Debbie had the most perfect life nonetheless and I wanted to be just like her one day.

Eventually a tremendous Hollywood scandal made the headlines. Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher had been close friends with Elizabeth Taylor and her husband, Mike Todd. They had even named their son Todd. When Mike Todd died suddenly in a plane crash a grieving Elizabeth Taylor found comfort from her good friends, especially Eddie. One thing led to another and the two stars wound up having an affair. Stories about the sordid incident seemed to be everywhere and of course my mom and her sisters were aghast by the turn of events as they whispered comments while they sipped on their coffee. I would have had to have been deaf not to hear them discussing how horrible the whole situation was and how much they felt for Debbie who by then was the mother of two children including a daughter named Carrie.

I loved Debbie Reynolds even more fiercely after that sensational scandal and thought of her as a brave warrior who somehow soldiered on even after enduring public humiliation. It would be decades before I would be able to forgive Elizabeth Taylor for her egregious behavior and I disliked Eddie Fisher forevermore. I was happy when his star power plummeted in the aftermath. He ultimately disappeared from the limelight and his tryst with Elizabeth was short lived, but Debbie continued to perform and remained beloved to me and her fans.

I was grown when I finally discovered the movie that seemed to most accurately depict the duality of sweetness and spunk that seemed to define the real Debbie Reynolds. Singing In the Rain became one of my all time favorite films. The casting was incredible and Debbie more than held her own with giants of the screen like Gene Kelly and Donald O’Conner. There are few scenes from cinema that are as iconic as the one in which she dances with her male co-stars and they all three end up tilting over a sofa. Her star quality shone through and that charisma would never die even after she left the silver screen for a quieter life.

Debbie Reynolds showed up from time to time in Las Vegas and on television programs like Will and Grace where she always seemed to light up the room but it was her daughter Carrie who would eventually become even more of a Hollywood icon than she had been. When Carrie Fisher played the role of Princess Leia in the Star Wars series she immediately became a role model for a new generation of little girls just as her mom had been for me. Carrie was beautiful and intelligent and showed the same spark of independence that her mom had always displayed. Young men across the world fell in love with her more feminist version of the ideal woman. She was an equal to the male characters who fought side by side with her against the dark side of life.

Carrie Fisher had a brilliant mind and went on to display her intellect and her sense of humor in the five books that she eventually wrote. She possessed a sometimes defiant honesty in which she told of her own demons and struggles. For a time she was estranged from her mother because of her willingness to so publicly speak of her life. She suffered from addictions and mental health issues and was never afraid to talk openly about them. She became an outspoken advocate for everyone who deals with the heartache and loss that comes from fighting for their mental well being. She understood that by admitting her own weaknesses she not only freed herself from their grasp but helped others who so often feel abandoned and alone in the battles against their cravings.   

The world was shocked to hear of Carrie Fisher’s death from a heart attack that she suffered while flying home on Christmas Day. Her many fans both young and old recalled the joy that she had brought to them. Her friends and family grieved for the giving and sensitive person that she was. Her mother Debbie was distraught and missed her beloved daughter immediately. Only one day later she too died, possibly from a stroke.

After my father was killed in a car crash at the age of thirty three my grandmother commented that she had lost her parents, many siblings and even a husband but the death of her child was the most difficult thing that she had ever endured. I watched her change from that day forward. She was a fighter who carried on but there was a shadow of sadness that seemed to follow her in spite of her efforts to smile and be optimistic. She spoke often and wistfully of my father and provided me with snatches of her own history as though she was preparing me for her own demise. Eventually she was diagnosed with stage four cancer and she died after a short but painful battle. Somehow I always felt that it was her broken heart that took her and I suspect that the same might be true of Debbie Reynolds. It is just so incredibly shocking and wrong in the grand scheme of things to lose a child.

I feel a profound sadness today as I think of the family of Debbie Reynolds and Carrie Fisher. They will be dealing with a great deal of pain in the coming days and weeks and months. In the end the icons that we so worship as fans are just people like ourselves. They have brothers and daughters and close friends who love them and know them in the most personal ways, “warts and all” as my mother used to say. Behind all of the glitz and glamor of Hollywood are humans who experience the very same feelings that we all have. They give away much of their own privacy to those of us who fantasize about them and make them famous. We share vicariously in their triumphs and their tragedies but we never truly know them. We forget just how human they really are. The death of Debbie Reynolds just one day after her daughter reminds us of what matters the most in life. In the final analysis the most important thing that we do each day is to love and never forget just how fragile the human experience is. We can’t take a single day for granted because we never really know what our final destiny will be. We need to attempt to live with courage and open hearts like Debbie Reynolds and her daughter Carrie Fisher tried so valiantly to do.

The Terror of Fear

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Fear-Is-the-Killer1.jpgterror

noun  1 a state of intense fear 2 a: one that inspires fear (scourge) b: a frightening aspect c: a cause of anxiety (worry) d: an appalling person or thing (brat) 3 reign of terror 4 violent or destructive acts committed by groups in order to intimidate a population or government into granting their demands

We live in frightening times, of that there can be no argument. Still, for the most part we carry on with our daily lives not allowing the fears that reside in our minds to overtake us. Each of us worries to a lesser or greater extent about personal problems that range from difficulties with finances to concerns about a dire medical diagnosis for a loved one. Mostly we have little time or energy to expend on thoughts about the world at large even as we are barraged with daily news reports of happenings in places far from our homes. As long as trouble is not in our own backyard we mostly give only passing notice to pain and suffering. The job of a terrorist is to create an action that is so unusual in its brutal disregard for humanity that it gives us pause and causes us to look over our shoulders and to feel the racing of our hearts. An act of terror is one that makes us afraid of the possibilities of horror in our daily lives. In its most extreme form it pushes us to isolate ourselves in fear.

Even though most of us understand that the odds of being a victim in a terrorist attack are quite literally one in many millions the randomness of such incidents makes us realize that they might happen anywhere and at any time. We might be dining out or celebrating with our coworkers at a party. That stroll down the street in our daily routine may be interrupted by murder and death. The most recent attacks have been in the most unlikely of places. We see that they might as well happen right next door.

We are carefully searched at big events. Our buildings now have barriers, armed guards, metal detectors. We are probably relatively safe at a highly publicized event. Terrorists search instead for the venues in which we have let down our vigilance, places that are so ordinary that it would not dawn on us to be afraid in them. Violence in such situations becomes even more horrifying because it is so unexpected.

My mother suffered from attacks of paranoia in relation to her bipolar disorder. At times she experienced psychotic episodes that were painful and terrifying. She became unable to function and locked herself inside her home in a state of unrelenting anxiety. Only with medical intervention was she able to return to a normal state of mind that allowed her to resume her usual activities. Until then she was convinced that her life and ours were in such grave danger that we should not venture out into the world. Such times were sad and toxic for her. Her illness literally held her captive and kept her from enjoying the beauty of our shared human experience.

In many ways the goal of terrorism is to create a similar sense of impending doom in all of us. The hope is that in witnessing shocking scenes of violence we will all become less and less willing to venture forth in defiance of the threats. The terrorist’s goal is to shut down our normal sense of security. Their desire is to make so many of us afraid that we will demand our leaders to defer to their agendas. It is a game of cat and mouse that all too often leads to senseless harm and a loss of freedoms for everyone. As the perpetrators ratchet up the horror even those who are far away from the events become a bit more wary than they might otherwise have been.

Ironically I learned how to experience the wonders of the world without fear from the strength and wisdom of my mother before she was afflicted with a mental illness. After my father died she was determined to be adventurous while still being cautious. She showed us how to be aware of the people around us and to note the potential dangers of different environments. By being rationally observant we never fell into harm’s way and we were ready with a plan if things went awry.

I recall helping my mother to notice everything that was happening around us. If a car followed us for many miles Mama would pull into a crowded area pretending to be part of a large group. From her I developed a kind of radar that allowed me to note the demeanor of the people around me. It was a skill that came in quite handy when I became a teacher. I was one of those individuals who seemed to have eyes in the back of my head. I generally ferreted out trouble before it even began.

To this day I am unwilling to enter an elevator when there is only one person inside. I take note of the exits in hotels and theaters in case I need to leave quickly. I almost unconsciously watch the people around me. I have developed a sixth sense. I have plans for what to do if trouble arises regardless of where I am. I do not dwell on such things. I simply consider the possibilities, formulate potential solutions and then go about the joy of celebrating life. I refuse to live in fear. 

I don’t mind taking off my shoes, opening my purse for inspection or walking through metal detectors. I know that such considerations are part of a plan to keep me safe. When a TSA agent is wary of a snow globe that one of my grandchildren purchased on a trip to New York City I applaud him for being careful. I don’t become angry when a guard in France gives me a full body search because I decided to bring home rock samples from my travels. I realize that such incidents happen in efforts to make me and those around me safe. They have become part and parcel of our new world order. What I do refuse to do is lock myself away because I am afraid of what might happen if I venture out. Once we begin to fold to the demands of terrorists we are truly doomed. They will not suddenly back away if we are compliant. They will only expect more and more deference to their wishes.

The world is mostly good. Of that I am certain. On any given day it is likely that our routines will be uneventful. Most of us will never see violence up close and personal. We need not fret or worry needlessly. Instead we must work together as world partners to find ways to eradicate those people and groups who would needlessly harm our brothers and sisters. If we stand strong and together the power of positivity will doom them just as it has throughout history. I for one intend to live courageously and to partake of life. I will not allow anyone to terrify me. It is the fear that kills us but only if we allow it to strangle us. Be not afraid.

A Most Extraordinary Woman

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

14469587_10154575770011967_2241016345344877148_n-1We worry as a society because there seems to be a noticeable lack of ethical behavior in today’s world. We’ve seen our fellow citizens gloss over lies when convenient and often make excuses for acts that might have been deemed unacceptable in the past. When individuals have the courage to speak up for their principles too often people chastise them for not going with the flow of modern day thinking. It is more and more difficult for someone to demonstrate moral courage because in doing so they may become the butt of insulting tweets or Facebook posts that demean them rather than celebrate them as the noble people that they are.

Joanna Rodriguez is my own personal hero. I watched this quiet and unassuming young woman become a warrior for justice at a moment in time when few of her peers were willing to step forward to do the right thing. There was an incident at the high school where I was the Dean of Faculty in which a group of students were caught attempting to make copies of an exam that had been stolen from one of the teachers. The principal gathered the members of the class together hoping that someone who had information on the culprits might acknowledge the truth. Instead there was a deadly conspiratorial silence in the room as the teacher emotionally urged his students to speak the truth.

Suddenly Joanna emerged from the back of the room and stood defiantly in front of her classmates. She spoke eloquently of the importance of providing information on anyone who may have been involved in the cheating. She was so moved in her search for the truth that her voice broke and she seemed to be on the verge of tears. Her classmates stared incredulously at her and for a time nobody spoke but they had indeed heard her words. Not long afterward several other highly respected members of the class secretly revealed who had been involved in the scandal.

I was in awe of Joanna Rodriguez for the depth of her character and for the bravery that she had exhibited. It was not in her nature to be the center of attention but it was very much like her to be a champion for what is right and just. I knew back then that our world was going to be a better place because it would have young people like her moving into positions of leadership in the future. Now Joanna is ready to assume the full mantle of adulthood as a graduate of the University of Houston Downtown with a degree in education.

Joanna has worked long and hard to reach this moment and she is more than prepared to become a teacher at KIPP Voyage Girls Academy this spring. She excelled in her classes and did an outstanding job as a student teacher. Little wonder that she was recruited by more than one school district. She has chosen to return to her roots in the KIPP Charter system to pay forward the lessons that she learned when she was young as well as those that she mastered in college.

Joanna will be an exceptional role model for the young ladies of KIPP Voyage. She carries herself with the kind of dignity and confidence that they need to see. She is bright and creative and most of all incredibly loving. I have little doubt that she will be successful at building lasting relationships with her students and that she will show them how to find their own paths to and through life. She is living proof that working hard and being nice pay huge dividends. 

Joanna Rodriguez and young women like her represent the best of our future. She has become exactly the kind of person that we hoped she and her classmates would one day be. She is the culmination of efforts from many dedicated people and now she will accept the mantle of responsibility to continue those efforts in guiding a new generation of students. She is so real and so ready to embark on the most important work that anyone might ever do.

Joanna has had an exhilarating couple of months. In addition to completing her university requirements and practicing her craft as a student teacher, she became engaged to a very fine young man. I suspect that the two of them will eventually build a family as strong and loving as the one in which she grew in her own wisdom and grace. Her parents worked in tandem with those of us who were her educators and demonstrated their devotion to raising her well. She has enjoyed a very fine example of parenting that will serve her both in the classroom with her students and later if she decides to have children of her own.

I feel a certain sense of pride that Joanna has chosen to be a teacher. It is one of the most noble professions but it is also difficult. Sadly our society does not always celebrate the importance of educating the young. It sometimes takes true grit to expend the long hours and to endure the criticisms of a society that is willing to pay college football coaches millions while neglecting to honor the men and women who toil unsung in our schools. If there is anyone who has what it takes to rise above the clamor and realize the joy and importance of teaching, it is Joanna Rodriguez.

I hope that she finds as much fulfillment in her career as I did and that she has the pleasure of meeting many young people like herself. I wish for her to find the daily pleasure that is the reward of working with our young. I wish her well as she begins a journey that will be filled with many adventures and blessings. Most of all I thank her for including me in the climb to the top of her mountain. From where I stand the view is beautiful and I see a most wonderful future for her.