Category: Education

Someday

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

maxresdefaultAll of us are guilty of procrastination at one time or another. We promise ourselves that we will design a plan for healthy living but never quite get around to doing so. We have a bucket list of places that we would like to visit but always have some reason or another why we can’t quite find the time or the money to take that trip. We resolve to spend more time with a family member or friend who has a difficult time getting out of the house but the someday that we intend to do so never quite comes. We have the best of intentions but our follow through is often lacking. Sometimes we find ourselves filled with regret because it is truly too late to fulfill the dreams that have filled our heads. Excuses all too often preempt actions. Tomorrow never quite comes.

The realities of life are often hectic and unpredictable. It is not that uncommon to become so involved with the routines and surprises of our lives that we never have the time or the energy to actually accomplish our goals and desires. We are often so responsible that we put our own wishes at the bottom of long to-do lists. We believe that so many other people must come first. Our children need us. Our elderly parents require our attention. Our homes need to be cleaned or organized or repaired. We have to pay the orthodontist or the car mechanic. We find hundreds of thousands of dollars to send our kids to college but see that cruise to Alaska as a luxury that we can’t afford. We tell ourselves that someday everything will work out but as the years go by we begin to realize that we may never actually do so many of the things that we had at one time thought we might experience. Sometimes we have to grab the moment and put ourselves first, as selfish as that might seem.

I have found that there has never been a single time when I decided to just go for something that I wanted to do that it did not turn out fantastically. I had the crazy idea of going to graduate school at the same time that my daughters were in college. I had little idea how I was going to pay the tuition and fees or buy the books but I knew that I needed to take the risk or I would one day be quite unhappy. I had to attend classes after a busy day at work and spend entire weekends reading and writing papers. I was exhausted and low on funds but I was also driven to accomplish the task. I refused to give up even when my goal seemed almost foolish and impossible. It took me four years but when I was finished my higher level of education opened up doors that provided me with the happiest times of my work life. I knew that I had done the right thing and that all of the sacrificing had been worth the effort.

Once both of my daughters were grown and living on their own I decided that I was going to visit Europe no matter what it took to get there. I was one of the few people among my friends and relatives who had never been there. I was in my mid fifties and I worried that if I didn’t make a move I might soon be afflicted with health problems that would preclude such a journey. I convinced my husband to take a leap of faith and spend some of our savings to travel across the Atlantic. We accompanied friends to a ski resort in Austria during the Christmas holidays. The vacation was enchanting from beginning to end. It was without question one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. I vividly and happily recall every second and treasure the memories. I’d hate to think that I might have somehow passed on the opportunity to see the wondrous sights that were part of that trip.

Most of the time if we carefully consider a particular situation we find that with just a bit of planning and a willingness to work a bit harder we are capable of doing far more than we might think. With a solid goal in mind we can save a bit of money here and there, reschedule our routines, find ways to do the things that excite us.

Some people are so good at prioritizing their lives. If they want to travel they forego less meaningful luxuries and religiously set aside the funds that they will need. If they desire a particular job or lifestyle they put in the time to get the education or training for the work that will get them where they want to be. If their goal is to volunteer more they make certain that doing good works is built into the calendar of their daily routine. Those who wish to be more spiritual find a time and place to pray or reflect. Some get up an hour or two earlier so that they might exercise. All worthy dreams are fulfilled with a bit of ingenuity and effort.

Our somedays are far too uncertain to gamble them away. Don’t just have a resolution. Have a plan. Literally sit down and determine how you will make a goal become a reality. Talk with your family and friends for insights and don’t feel shy about asking for their help. Create a reasonable timeline for doing the things that you wish to do and try to deviate from the plan as little as possible. Keep track of how well you are doing in meeting your expectations. Make adjustments as needed. Try not to get distracted with events and situations that are unimportant. Have someone who is willing to encourage you when you become frustrated. Most of all keep telling yourself that you deserve as much of your time and attention as anyone else. You don’t have to ignore yourself to be a good person. It really is okay to pamper yourself by checking off those desires on your bucket list. In fact you will be happier and healthier and more likely to be of use to the world if you learn how to give to yourself. Make those somedays happen. There is no better time to start than today.

A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

lead_largeWe humans have a need to control our environment, to fix things that appear to be broken. All in all that is an admirable trait until it gets out of hand, which it often does. Then we become almost obsessive in our desire to find a kind of perfection in the world around us. We craft rules and laws hoping to improve everyone’s lives. Most of the time our motives are not evil or selfish. Our intentions are generally good but we sometimes miss the mark. Sadly we have a tendency to stick with our plans even when it becomes apparent that our ideas have not worked as intended. We change a little of this and a little of that, complicating our lives just a bit more with each new layer, refusing to admit that maybe we have been moving in the wrong direction all along.

For the vast majority of history only the most wealthy and powerful individuals were afforded the luxury of an education. The sons of royalty were taught to read and to cipher and once in a great while even their daughters had tutors to show them how to unlock the mysteries of numbers and words. Most of the great unwashed millions were illiterate which made them less likely to change their economic status from one generation to the next. Eventually there was a realization that societies might benefit from having a more educated populace and more emphasis was placed on providing youngsters with the basics of reading, writing and arithmetic. Still, the average soul never went very far up the educational ladder, especially if that person was a woman or a minority. Up to and including my grandfathers, nobody in my family had gone past the seventh grade in their learning and my grandmothers were both functionally illiterate.

The dawn of the twentieth century brought a whole new attitude about schooling in the United States. The Industrial Revolution had highlighted the need for a more educated populace than the more agrarian work of the past required. When the United States joined in the conflict of World War I it emerged from the isolation that had mostly defined it since its beginnings. Leaders of the nation imagined a better future for everyone and it began in the classroom. Suddenly there was an interest in education for all unlike anything that had come before. Even the poor and women were to receive the basics needed for a literate society. The debate over what knowledge and skills should be included in a publicly funded system began in earnest and it has been raging ever since.

At first it seemed as though the efforts to teach the children of the nation went fairly well, fairly quickly. More and more youngsters were reaching higher and higher levels of education. My own parents not only graduated from high school but also went on to earn college degrees, a rather amazing feat given the almost non-existent levels of education of their parents. Still there were numerous individuals within their generation who attended school only until they felt a need to drop out and begin working, sometimes as early as middle school. Blacks went to poorly funded schools that were segregated and rarely equal in the quality of supplies and books and programs being offered. There were still many reasons to note that we had not reached our goal of universally equal and excellent schooling for all.

By the time that I was in school the civil rights movement was in full bloom, highlighting the need for integration and fairness for everyone. More and more people began to take completion of high school for granted and enrollment in colleges began to increase. Nonetheless, there was a general feeling that we were still behind our counterparts from around the world. Educational research began in earnest and methods for improving schools were incorporated inside classrooms. We pushed not just to have bodies in the seats but to create real participation in the learning experience, to have teachers who inspired and created lifelong learners.

I mostly loved going to school. My teachers were dedicated individuals who had few supplies and little in the way of technology. They made up for the lack of such things with enthusiasm. I recall feeling relaxed in my classes and enjoyed the laughter that was always a part of the ones that were the most enjoyable. We had a few standardized tests here and there but very little mention was ever made of them so we took them without worry. Somehow they were a mysterious aspect of the school year that had no real meaning in our lives, at least that’s how it felt to me. It was only when we reached the moment of taking college entrance exams that we felt the pressure of achieving a particular score and even then most universities were less concerned about how we had done on a three hour test than what kind of effort we had demonstrated over the course of our four years in high school. In other words, my generation was somewhat spared the angst of continual standardized testing.

I became a teacher because I literally loved the magic of the academic process that had taken place in the schools of my youth. They made me feel happy in a strange kind of way. I wanted to help transfer my own joy of learning to the next generation. For a time it was a most rewarding way to earn a living but slowly the idea of measuring the success or failure of every aspect of education began to take a stranglehold on how things were done in classrooms. I initially supported the idea of requiring teachers to follow more stringent guidelines in the curriculum. As a result of such designs I received a more ready group of students each year. My job became easier because there were fewer gaps in learning than ever before. I believed that we were on the right track until the entire focus began to revolve around determining how well educators were sticking with the prescribed curriculum and that meant testing the students. Before long we were asking our kids to take tests to prepare for the tests. We had to throw out the fun lessons that took too long and push the students to keep moving forward even when we knew that they had not yet mastered the material. There was no time for lingering and sometimes not even for laughing. There would be a common assessment at a scheduled time. We all had to be ready lest we be judged to be poor teachers.

Now we seem to be stuck in an educational quagmire that is increasingly uncomfortable for our teachers, our students and even the parents. Every January campuses take on a sense of dread as the clock begins ticking in the countdown to the spring testing season. So much is at stake for everyone. Teachers will be appraised based on how well their kids do on the tests. Students know that the trajectory of their lives will move one way or another depending on their scores. Parents watch helplessly as their youngsters grow increasingly stressed. Administrators will rise in the ranks or be cast aside depending on the ultimate results of the children in their care. It is a situation in which few are happy and yet the insistence on adhering to high stakes testing continues unabated.

The cries for help are already appearing on the walls of Facebook and in blogs. A poet admits that questions on a seventh grade test about one of her works were too nebulous for her to answer correctly even though the words had come from her mind. A teacher recounts the horror stories that are pushing her out of the profession. A distraught parent wants to know why her child is so nervous and confused and why the teachers won’t slow down enough to allow her little one to master the materiel instead of moving from one topic to another at breakneck speed.

We have a sense that we have somehow gone astray and turned our educational system into a million dollar industry for testing companies rather than a place where learning is viewed as a pleasant experience. Our children have to be taught to think in a particular way so that they might beat the tests that they will take again and again and again.

We know that there are those among us who have the experiences that make them more likely to do well on those tests even without the instruction that they receive and others whose minds work differently who will overthink their answers and choose based on legitimate reasons that they are not allowed to explain on a bubble sheet. Our mathematics teachers are reluctant to give partial credit for answers that were calculated correctly but for one small error so that students who actually understand concepts are lumped with those who have no idea what they are doing. After all, the standardized tests will not differentiate between those who just need to check their subtraction on one step and those who have simply guessed and chosen the wrong response because they are clueless.

I don’t know what it will take to rid ourselves of this onerous situation which is forcing a generation of teachers, students and parents to become testing drones rather than thinkers. Perhaps instead of mounting a silent revolution with frustrated comments on social media we should all begin to insist that our voices be heard. Many groups are marching through the streets these days with their individual protests when the one cause that should unite us all is the education of our children. We should feel fervent in our desire to rid our schools of the plague that is killing the very liveliness and joy that should come with learning. It is in classrooms all across our nation that so many of the problems that trouble us begin. Our young women might feel more empowered if we quit subjecting them to tests that have been proven to favor their middle class male counterparts. Those who roam the streets of Chicago performing murderous acts might be more inclined to turn their attention to school if they were to find a more interesting atmosphere that is attuned to their needs rather than to constantly assessing how much they know. Our levels of poverty and unemployment will be greatly reduced if we work on providing our youth with real world skills that take note of their interests and talents rather than attempting to force them all to embark on STEM careers. It’s time that we demand that the lunacy of constant testing that is driving our entire educational system receive a major overhaul.

As the old saying goes, “A mind is a terrible thing to waste.” Right now we are sending far too many minds careening over a cliff. When will we insist that we have had enough?

The Crossing

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

children_crossingI stood at the corner just as I was told to do. It was early morning and the students were arriving on foot, in cars and on buses. I liked being all by myself because I was not yet fully awake. My post allowed me to enjoy the morning sunshine and organize my thoughts without the interruptions of the early risers who always seemed to be so boisterous and happy at an ungodly hour. It had been a last minute request from the principal. He needed to be certain that someone would be watching over the kids from that vantage point and he specifically wanted that person to be me. Luckily I had prepared my classroom for the day’s work the afternoon before so I wasn’t bothered at all by the unusual assignment.

I smiled quietly at the passersby. It was actually fun to watch the neighborhood on parade. It was a poor part of town but the people were vibrant and hopeful that theirs would be the last generation to know poverty. They sent their children to school full of dreams and most of the youngsters were responding well. Sadly gangs had infiltrated the area and often made plays for the same kids that the parents were working so hard to protect. Many of the leaders of those groups were my students. They generally behaved well in the classroom, attempting to fly under the radar lest they find troubles that might interfere with their after school work of plying illegal activities. Now and again one of them would be caught and sent to juvenile detention or even prison depending on age. I got along well with them and often let them know that I worried about them.

On that morning I saw many of them arriving at school as though their lives were totally normal. They waved at me as they passed and I felt secure in the knowledge that they might be safe for the next few hours while they were under our care.

I understood that danger was always a possibility. I had witnessed violent fights in the hallways that ended badly for those who became involved. I had talked students out of pursuing brutal encounters more than once. I knew that most of my kids were good-hearted and willing to defer to my wishes. Sadly they all too often found trouble once they left at the end of the day.

I liked standing at that crossing on that morning. It was a sunny day with almost perfect spring weather. I was in my element, ready to take on the challenges of the day whatever they may be. My time as a sentry was uneventful just as I had expected. I reported back to the secretary to assure her that all had gone well.

She sighed with relief when she heard my peaceful account, revealing that a tipster had alerted the school that a drive by shooting was planned for that corner on that very day. I wasn’t sure how to react to the disturbing news. I was certainly happy that nothing had happened but I wondered why I had not been informed earlier of the possibilities. I was stunned that I had been left all alone on that crossing when there was knowledge that I might witness or be victimized by violence. I laughed weakly as though I didn’t quite believe what she was saying and silently heaved a sigh of relief.

The more I thought about the incident, the more convinced I became that I had perhaps forestalled the plan because it may have been one of my students who had hatched the plot. Perhaps the perpetrator saw me and decided not to get me involved. I was still quite worried to think that such thoughts had ever occurred to anyone even if the entire incident had been nothing more than a prank. Knowing that innocents and I had been so close to danger bothered me for many weeks.

My situation became the subject of dark humor among my colleagues. We had learned to laugh at even the most dire events. It was our way of surviving much like the doctors and nurses of M.A.S.H. teams. One of my coworkers told her husband about what had happened and after that he showed up in his police car every single time I was on duty. He would flip on his siren for a few seconds and tease me about potential crime. I soon enough figured out that he was watching over me without drawing attention to his kindness. We shared that private joke even though I think we both knew that his patrol was deadly serious.

So many of my former students ended up in the penitentiary. I always cried when I learned of their fate. It was such a waste of intellect and talent and basically good souls. I knew that immaturity and a need to belong had most often prompted their thug life. I preferred hearing the stories of those who had managed to find their way out of the maelstrom. There were many who ultimately found success as firefighters, police officers and soldiers in the military. They belonged to new brotherhoods that gave them hope. Some of them came back to tell me of their success. I was moved by the hard work and determination that they had exerted to set themselves free.

I can still envision that morning at that school crossing. I’d like to think that all of our children will always be as protected and safe as they were on that day. Sadly the realities tell me that there are still so many innocents who become victims of poverty, ignorance and warring gangs. In Chicago the problem is so horrible that we have difficulty even knowing what to do to stop the violence. It is an awesome task filled with danger but we have to try.

One of my former students who seemed to be inextricably tangled with local gangs managed to eventually extricate himself. When I asked him how he found the courage to walk away from the ugliness of it all he explained that it was faith that brought him through. The faith that his parents had in him even at the lowest point made him realize that he already belonged to a loving family and he did not need the outside forces that taunted and tempted him. The faith of teachers who saw the positive aspects of his personality and intelligence helped him to understand his own potential. The faith of the members of his family’s church who prayed for him even when he seemed lost convinced him that there was a power greater than the thugs with whom he had allied himself. The faith of an assistant principal who refused to allow him to throw his life away made him see that he had never been alone. Ultimately he felt the power of that faith and began to believe in himself as well. He turned his life around and left the ugliness of the streets for good.

Each of us has a responsibility to our young. Sometimes it begins by being present at a crossing where they begin to learn of the strength that they have within themselves. We cannot simply give up on them because they have made mistakes. It is with the weakest among us that we have the most potential to change the world. Each of us has to try. We never really know how important a simple act of kindness or encouragement may impact a human soul. We need to be there to see them walk safely across.

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.

The Silver Lining

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

silver-liningEvery time I am in the Santa Fe area I make it a point to travel to Chaco Canyon. Getting to that remote national park is difficult. In the last many miles the road becomes so unbearably rugged that I always consider turning back. Since I know what adventure lies ahead I always choose to continue the journey to my destination. I am never disappointed. Chaco Canyon is one of the great wonders of our country and it is worth all of the effort to see it.

The year 2016 has been much like navigating the trail to Chaco Canyon. There have been many potholes and bumps in the last twelve months that made life a bit more difficult that usual but now that I am at the end of the course I can see the breathtaking beauty of my trek. All things considered, 2016 was another wonderful year in my life even though it may not have been quite as spectacular or free from loss as other times have been.

I learned when I was teaching that I should never judge the worth of a day’s work by a single negative incident. There were many times when I felt like a rockstar only to be plummeted to earth by a negative encounter with a difficult student. Early in my career when I still lacked experience and maturity I was overly critical of myself, always seeking perfection and hopelessly disappointed when my teaching was even slightly flawed. I lost my optimism and felt that I was a failure as an educator on many a day. A wise mentor came to my psychological rescue when she suggested that I begin to list both the good and bad aspects of each week in two columns. She assured me that I would almost always have visual proof that my efforts had been far more positive than I had thought. She noted that we humans have a tendency to magnify and remember negativity so much that it often overwhelms the excellence in our lives. In carrying out her suggestion I learned that even in the most frustrating weeks I had always accomplished way more than I had realized. It became my habit to look at the totality of a day, a week, a month or a year before focusing exclusively on the moments that had seemed to threaten my happiness.

Such it has been with 2016. I lost a friend and a very dear cousin during the year. I took a number of unexpected financial hits that strained my pocketbook and forced me to change some of my habits. I was surprised and disappointed by the results of the political primary races in the spring and then the national election itself in the fall. I grew weary and worried about the massive divide that has so torn the citizens of my beloved country apart. I worried about world events that seem to threaten peace. It would be easy for me to write off the last twelve months as a total loss if I were only to think about the things that made me sad and weary but that would be an incomplete analysis of the year. When I take the time to wander through my memories I realize that I was graced with many glorious blessings in 2016.

The year began in Galveston with all of my children and grandchildren. It was too cold for the beach but we spent time playing games, watching football, enjoying Moody Gardens and The Strand. It was fun and best of all I was with the people that I most love. It was really a dream come true because in most years my kids are so busy with other pursuits that I may see them on Christmas Day and not again until February or even March. I will always treasure January 1, 2016 as a very special day when we celebrated together.

On January 6, Mike and I met with a group of friends at Killen’s Steakhouse. The food was certainly a treat but being with Adriana, Tim, Jenny and Eric was the main attraction. I always feel revitalized just being around them and that evening was no exception. In fact it was one of those unforgettable times that bring warm feelings to the surface whenever I stop to remember.

There were the usual family birthday parties for my brothers, sister-in-laws, nieces, nephews, father-in-law, husband, children and grandchildren. All of them were fun and festive and gave us a perfect excuse to clear off our calendars and celebrate the love that so defines “the best family ever.” Perhaps the most extravagant and wonderful of them all was a Harry Potter themed birthday spectacular for one of my nephews who lives in Dallas. There was a quidditch game, a magician, a sorting experience and some of the best food I have ever tasted. As Muggles, Mike and I were in awe of the magic of that evening.

My sister-in-law retired from her work as a NASA contractor and spent many weeks touring in Europe with her sisters. My brother hung up his boots and retired from the Houston Fire Department after a career that spanned his entire adult lifetime. Both of them had gala parties in which we celebrated their dedication and achievements which were numerous. I felt so proud of both of them and excited that they now have the time to pursue their hobbies and to travel to their hearts’ content.

Of course Mike and I went camping and sometimes met up with our friends Monica and Franz in Huntsville or Blanco and enjoyed the solitude and the local sites together. We even traveled with our long time buddies to Colorado and stayed in my brothers’ cabin for a glorious week in the fall. We enjoyed nature’s colors and the art festivals as well as the food and quaint shops. Mostly we realized just how much we love being with our dear friends.

In the summer we took two of our grandchildren William and Abby on a grand excursion in our trailer. We reveled in the sights from Santa Fe to San Diego. We took that terrible road to Chaco Canyon and almost baked in the punishing summer sun but were enthralled by the powerful images of a past long gone. We stood over the rim of Grand Canyon at sunset and marveled at the beauty of Sedona. We escaped into a world of make believe at Universal Studios in Los Angeles and spent an entire day slathering our bodies with sunscreen at the beach. We sat under a clear sky and watched the stars in the Davis Mountains. We realized how vast and beautiful the United States truly is.

In October I met with many of my high school friends in a fifty year reunion. It was wonderful to see so many of the people with whom I had spent four years of my young life. They each had special stories to tell and even though the evening flew by with the pace of speed dating I walked away with renewed friendships and a glorious feeling that we had all learned our life lessons well. The people there were good and honest folk just as our teachers had wanted us to be.

There were glorious graduations. My cousin earned an advanced degree and a number of my former students became the first in their families to hold bachelor degrees. I gave a party for those who graduated in May and together we celebrated their stunning accomplishments. I felt a sense of pride in knowing how dedicated they had been and what wonderful futures they would surely enjoy.

I watched my grandchildren perform in musicals and plays, in swim meets and cross country competitions, in robotics games and concerts. I realized even more than ever how gifted and talented and hard working they truly are. I understood that in those moments when I don’t get to see them they are busy charting their own trails that will most assuredly lead them to achieving the goals and the dreams that they have designed for themselves. They will be ready to accept the challenges of the future and be the generation that keeps the faith in our family values.

I met with friends and family and former students throughout the year and truly enjoyed those quiet moments when we conversed and considered the challenges of the world. One particularly fun evening was spent with a large group of women laughing at the antics of less than perfect moters in the movie Bad Moms. The film reminded all of us to be kind to ourselves.

It was in the laughter and the love of friends and family that 2016 was transformed from a frustrating year to one that brought me enough happiness and satisfaction to make me optimistic about life and the world in which we live. Those bumps in the road were a mere disturbance far outweighed by the spectacular moments that happened when I least expected.

Happy New Year to everyone. May 2017 bring each of you the love and the happiness and the simple pleasures that make each day just a bit brighter. Look for the silver lining even on the cloudiest of days.