Category: Teachers

Let Squirrels Be Squirrels

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

squirrelsI’ve been watching a couple of squirrels terrorize each other as well as the peaceful doves who usually congregate in my backyard. The rascally critters have broken my bird feeder and spread seeds all over the grass. When I commented to my husband that I was angry that they had taken over my usually scenic area, he noted that they were just being what they were born to be.

It’s interesting that we allow members of the animal kingdom to follow their instincts but we so often want to push humans into being someone or something that just doesn’t feel right for them. We have this idea that everyone should go to college but the fact is that there are many wonderful jobs that require some training but not a degree. Someone who is a master electrician or plumber can have a comfortable and enjoyable life but we tend to freak out if our kids suggest that this is something that they would like to do.

I will never forget a long conversation that I had with one my students whose goal in life was to be a welder. His uncle was training him even before he had completed eighth grade. He had no desire to prepare for college. He loved the work that he was already doing.

I’ve known other young people who knew how to build custom wood floors and lay tile like it was going to be featured in the Taj Mahal. They were skilled in carpentry and able to fix cars. They had little desire to major in history of psychology. They wanted to work at refineries or in oil fields. They dreamed of becoming ranchers or farmers. They understood that they would make enough money to live rather well and it irritated them that instead of helping them to learn a viable trade those of us in the education biz were constantly attempting to wedge them into a collegiate box.

The same is true when it comes to choosing majors. There are those who honestly believe that if we just make science, mathematics and engineering seem exciting enough that more and more students will study for jobs in those fields. The truth is that some people simply are not interested in any way whatsoever in pursuing such technical careers just as my brother, the rocket scientist, would have been appalled at the idea of studying literature or poetry. Instead of insisting that every single high school student be required to build a college bound resume maybe it’s time for us to be more realistic and actually take the time to find out where each individual’s interests and talents lie.

One of the best classes that I ever took was one that I initially dreaded. It was a futures course entitled “Careers.” It seemed to be a total waste of time but once I had completed all of its requirements I understood myself so much more. It was far easier to outline work goals and to have an idea of where I might go in life. It identified my altruistic nature and the fact that I needed to feel as though I was making a difference in people’s lives to be truly happy in a job. It noted my creative bent, my diplomatic skills and my need for human interactions. Suddenly I realized that education was the perfect avenue in which I might use my talents. Indeed I found great happiness in my work, if not a fortune in earnings, something that was never that important to me.

Perhaps the gravest mistake that we make with our young is in placing more importance on certain lines of work than others, giving the impression that some occupations are not particularly worthwhile. We groan if our children suggest that they want to be writers and often redirect their interests before they have even had the opportunity to test the waters. I was told over and over again in high school that my desire to be a journalist was a silly pipe dream, a waste of my valuable time. My mentors wanted me to be a doctor, an engineer or a certified public accountant, none of which sounded like something that I wanted to do day in and day out. The adults in my life felt that I had the intellect to enter a career that would bring wealth to me but I was of a different mind. In the end happiness is as important in deciding such things as monetary gain.

I suspect that the entire educational system would greatly improve if we were to spend more time listening to our students and attempting to help them to find out how to use their abilities and interests to build a career. We need to be honest with them in admitting that a college degree alone does not insure a productive and happy life. We need to provide them with more choices than just a STEM or Liberal Arts degree. We need to particularly work with students who may not have any idea of the many possibilities for satisfactory work.

I was one of those kids who was quite limited in my knowledge of the world. My  isolated point of view had little idea of many careers that I might actually have enjoyed. It would have been wonderful to have more guidance from my teachers and counselors than how to fill out a college application. I got lucky when I took that Careers class in college and found my way on my own but not everyone is so fortunate. Far too many young people today graduate with enormous amounts of debt and no idea of how to transform the knowledge that they have gained into a real position that they will enjoy. Many times they fall into majors without much information as to how to use them in real world settings. There is a certain immorality in the ways that we so often mislead our students into believing that any kind of college degree will bring them the success that they seek. It’s time that we begin to rethink the way we help them so that they might find out what they were born to be.

Each of us have special aptitudes, talents and characteristics which if channeled properly lead to incredibly happy and secure lives. It should not be as difficult to find out what those things are as it presently is. We have the tools for unlocking the essence of each person.  We need to use that information more effectively. If we can let squirrels be squirrels then we should be willing to celebrate the incredible variety that is who each of us might be.

Finding Beauty in Humble Places

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Minolta DSCBlessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where others see nothing.

— Camille Pissaro

How does one define beauty? Is it the latest super model on the cover of a magazine? Is it a sleek new car? Perhaps it is a stunning symphony or sunset over the Grand Canyon. For some it might be the laughter of a toddler or the words of a Shakespearean sonnet. For others it is a bouquet of roses or a rare jewel. While these are all stunning examples of loveliness, sometimes it is in the most unlikely corners of the world that we find the most elegant.

I loved my grandmother Minnie’s hands. They were wrinkled, swollen and misshapen. They had tilled soil, picked crops, milked cows, fed chickens and carried heavy loads. They had also held babies, rolled out dough for biscuits, and assembled guilts. They caught Grandma’s tears when her son died and fluttered to her cheeks when something made her laugh. They held a gun to shoot a squirrel for dinner and hauled in many a fish as well. They chopped off the head of a snake with a hoe and mended clothes to be used for another season. They were hard working and loving hands that showed their age without apology. They were indescribably beautiful.

I often find myself gazing at the simple loveliness of a glass of milk. I delight in its creamy color and velvety texture. I enjoy watching the bubbles that sometimes form at its edges when it has been newly poured. I see my good fortune in that liquid that builds bones and provides energy. I wonder how I have always been lucky enough to have as much of it as I have needed while others in the world are denied its hunger chasing powers.

When I attempt to unveil the mysteries of mathematics to my students there is nothing more glorious than the kind of smile that lights up a face at the moment of understanding. It is a marvelous sight indeed. The eyes glow and I can almost see right into the souls of my newfound geniuses. Their mouths curve in an upward smile showing a confidence that wasn’t there only moments before. We share a silent bond of accomplishment. Theirs is the joy of learning and mine is the satisfaction of providing possibilities.

The sound of the school bus stopping on the corner of my street each morning and afternoon tells me that I will soon hear the delightful voices of the youngsters who live in my neighborhood as they laugh and chatter with one another. I exalt in their playfulness and innocence. They remind me of how fantastic the future will most certainly be. The melody of their voices is an alluring concerto.

The first buds of spring, the cooing doves, the tree branches stretching heavenward and the deep blue sky on cool clear days are all gifts from nature, unique works of art. I take great joy in observing the bounty that is there for me to observe on my walks. I see turtles sunning themselves along the banks of the drainage ditch like armed sentinels. I laugh at the cats that skitter across my path taunting me with their agility and energy as I lope along.

A bird’s feather, a heart shaped rock, a golden leaf, a wildflower are all treasures that delight me. A baby’s foot keeping time to music or the friendly smile of a stranger bring glee instantly to my heart. The earnest drawing and sentiments of a young child are worthy of placement in the gallery of my soul. The warmth of a quilt on a cold night or an icy glass of tea on a summer’s day satisfy my wants and needs in ways that great wealth might never bring. A hug from someone that I love is the simplest but most incredible of pleasures.

It takes so very little for the ordinary to become extraordinarily beautiful. All we need do is pause from the hurry and scurry just long enough the hear the breaths that we take and the beats of our hearts. Savoring the quiet and using our senses to be totally in the moment reveals how much exquisiteness is all around us. Beauty is available for our enjoyment whenever we wish. When we take the time to notice we suddenly realize the glory of our universe with its patterns and colors and magnificence. We revel in our own humanity and realize that every shadow and crevice and nuance of our individuality is pleasing. We become one with the world and its people once we are able to still the negative voices in our heads.

It is not that difficult to meditate and reflect in such a way that we feel peace and are able to see the splendor in all things. It only takes a bit of practice and once we learn the tricks it brings us infinite contentment and optimism. It requires watching and listening and accepting, not talking, worrying, arguing or over thinking. It brings heavenly contentment to our bodies and our minds and we begin to see that there truly is beauty everywhere.

No Golden Ticket

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

the-analogy-of-the-golden-ticketWhen I was a little girl I often drove my friends crazy by suggesting that we play school. Of course I always insisted on being the teacher. I had a cardboard box that was ready for a very realistic rendition of a classroom. It held paper, pencils, pens, textbooks and even prepared tests and report cards that I designed in my leisure time. I suppose that it was rather nerdy on my part but my buddies and brothers placated me now and again by sitting in the makeshift desks that I created and listening to my lessons. There is little wonder that I ultimately dedicated my entire life to education.

I literally worked my way up the ranks of schools. My first job was at Do and Learn Pre-school. I met with my four year old students on Tuesdays and Thursdays in rented rooms at the local Methodist church. I so loved my little foray into the academic world that I became convinced that I had a bonafide vocation to be a teacher. I was determined to finish my degree at the University of Houston and get started as soon as possible.

I’ve always had an abundance of energy and so in addition to working at the pre-school I was also a Sunday school teacher at my church. There I taught kindergarten kids about Jesus. Evidently the nuns who ran the program liked my work enough to recommend that I take over the pre-school and elementary classes when they decided to leave for another posting. I served as the Director of Religious Education while continuing to work on finishing my degree. This gave me my first taste of being an administrator. I was still as happy as a clam and became utterly convinced that I wanted to devote my life to children.

Upon graduating I landed a position at St. Christopher’s Catholic School which was admittedly a bit disappointing to me because I had wanted to go directly to a public school. The economy was in the ditch at the time and there were simply no jobs for teachers that year. As it was, the job at St. Christopher’s was more perfect than if I had hand picked it for myself. I had a super principal who was innovative and child centered. I had great students who allowed me to practice my teaching skills and best of all I was the one and only mathematics teacher for the junior high. I taught the full spectrum of skills and even headed the computer and newspaper electives. I was happier than ever and certain that I had chosen the correct career.

When a public school job became available I reluctantly left. I became a self contained teacher of fourth graders under the guidance of yet another incredible principal who taught me so much about classroom management and taking care of my own physical and emotional needs. The children at this school were far more needy and underserved by society than my private school youngsters. Their stories were often tragic and I had to learn how to keep my emotions in check so that I would be able to provide them with what they needed.

Over time I taught multiple subjects, students from varying races and economic backgrounds, and many different grades. Each experience strengthened my abilities and demonstrated the complexities of teaching. Eventually I became the first ever intermediate Peer Facilitator in the Pasadena Independent School District, an idea from yet another of the outstanding principal for whom I worked. Today every intermediate school has multiple Peer Facilitators. I’d like to think that I helped to convince the higher ups that it was a worthwhile position to have.

I ended my career at KIPP Houston High School, one of the KIPP Charter schools, as the Dean of Faculty. By then I had been working with kids in one way or another for almost forty years. I’d seen public, private and charter schools. I’d taught reading, language arts, mathematics, science, social studies, art, theology and journalism. I had worked in daycare, pre-school, Sunday school, fourth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth grades. I had observed countless teachers and taken part in hundreds of parent conferences. I had been a Title I Coordinator, Gifted and Talented Coordinator, Magnet School Coordinator, Peer Facilitator, AP Coordinator and Testing Coordinator as well as Dean of Faculty. I conducted training sessions and taught mathematics teachers at an Algebra seminar at Rice University. In other words, I have been around the educational block a time or two and along the way I never lost my enthusiasm for my work. Now that I am retired I continue to tutor intermediate and high school students at both public and private schools.

With all of my knowledge and experience I find it disheartening that our newest Secretary of Education, Betsy Devos, cannot even come close to matching the depth of what I know about schools. She may be a very nice lady who has contributed generously to education and she may even be quite interested in helping to improve our current educational system but it takes way more than just a desire to help to even begin to make the changes that are necessary to make our educational system as strong as possible. It requires someone with intimate knowledge of schools from the ground floor up and I personally believe that it should be an individual with experiences that are so deep and expansive that he or she has a clear understanding of how every facet works. Obviously Ms. Devos is not that person.

The public is always searching for a quick and simple fix for our nation’s educational problems. Every teacher will tell you that there is no golden ticket or one thing that will make everything all right. Children like all people are very complex. Each classroom requires individualized instruction that is seamless. It is a difficult task to pull off but there are many exceptional educators who are doing it every single day. There is something almost magical about watching a great teacher in action but the reality is that it took hours of hard work and practice and self reflection to get there. This takes time and patience and has little to do with whether a school is public, private or charter. There are good, bad and ugly examples of each. The trick is in finding more of the really good educators who understand that they will have to be nimble when adapting to the needs of their kids.

Sadly Ms. Devos appears to be of the mind that the key to improving our American schools lies in turning them into a marketplace using a business model that assumes that demand will eventually supply quality for all students. Of course we all know that even in the world of retail all the economic pressure in the world will not transform a dollar store into Saks Fifth Avenue. It is ridiculous to think of education as some type of commodity and that allowing everyone to choose will somehow spur better possibilities for everyone. It is also a pipe dream to believe that a child in a run down neighborhood will be able to take the meager funds of government to a high priced private institution and suddenly be allowed to run with wealthy. For one, most such exclusive schools have long waiting lists, require entrance exams and cost well above government allotments. Furthermore they may or may not want to accept government money because that will make them beholden to rules not of their own making. Additionally, not all private schools are actually good. I interviewed at one or two that in all honestly should have been shut down. Charter schools are also of varying quality. While the KIPP Charter Schools have managed to maintain a solid reputation, many of those currently available peddle an inferior product that should not even be allowed to exist. The complex network of neighborhood public schools display a wide variety of quality from excellence to despair. The reality is that once the best are filled to capacity most children are still caught in the web of underperforming schools from which there is no escape. If the only idea for improving our schools is to provide students with vouchers, nothing really changes and we have wreaked unnecessary havoc for everyone.

I sincerely hope and pray that Betsy Devos listens to the counsel not of lawmakers but of educators who know more than she does. My wish is that she think very carefully before the burning bridges of our public school system. The project upon which she is embarking will determine the future of millions of young children. She must be very careful and very wise. Somehow my impression of her is not particularly positive. More than anything I want to be wrong because missteps in education will impact our nation for decades.    

Memories of Another Time

Published on by Sharron Burnett2 Comments

cristoreyhoustonI return to the neighborhood where I grew up at least once a week to tutor high school students in math. The area has changed more than a bit since I once walked the short blocks from my home to the high school that I attended. I suspect that only a few if any of the people who once lived there are still around. It was a working middle class suburb back in the day with a mix of blue collar types and professionals. The entire subdivision centered on the Catholic Church and school that most of us attended. There were other denominations and public institutions as well but Mt. Carmel was the main attraction. Everybody knew everybody and the community spirit was probably the best aspect of living there. It’s not an exaggeration to boast that it was heaven on earth for kids.

Our parents were quite active in providing us with a faith filled life, a great education and lots of after school activities. There was always something wonderful happening and the whole neighborhood felt like a combination of “Leave It To Beaver” land and an episode of “The Wonder Years.” My mother was quite wise to find us a home there after my father died. Our little place provided us with a sense of stability as we were growing up as well as hours of fun.

Of course things never seem to stay the same. Once I was grown and gone the whole area began to change as the old timers moved to newer homes in newer parts of town or to land they had purchased for retirement. It was just never quite the same. The new folks who moved in stayed mostly to themselves and my mother lost her sense of security. Her home was burglarized so many times that on the last break-in the thieves left without taking anything. We joked that we were surprised that they didn’t feel sorry for her and leave something behind. All of her valuables were long gone. Because she was alone and no longer had old friends on whom to depend nearby she became more and more frightened. Each time that she came home to discover an invasion of her property she was less and less willing to stay in the place where we had all shared so many memories. She decided to sell.

It was truly a shame because she had managed to pay for the house in full. She enjoyed having the extra income to make repairs and purchase a luxury now and again.  Because the area had generally deteriorated, at least on our street, she was unable to get a good price for the place. Essentially she had to start all over again making payments on a home that was little better but at least felt more safe. It stretched her already small income to the breaking point but she was always optimistic, believing that the good Lord would work things out, and somehow He always did.

I don’t think that Mama ever went back to see how our old homestead was doing which was actually for the best. The people who bought it did little to keep it in good condition. By the time that I finally drove by a few years back it was a sad broken down property. The roof was sagging and it looked as though it hadn’t been painted since the last time that Mama and me and my brothers had put a fresh coat on it. Mama had always taken pride in having a nice garden and had planted trees, bushes and flowers over the years. Literally all of that was gone. There wasn’t even much grass growing in the yard. It was stark and ugly in the saddest imaginable way. It literally hurt to see it like that. I couldn’t decide whether to be angry or just to cry.

I haven’t dared to go back again. I really don’t even like to think about how battered and neglected the house looks. I drive to my tutoring sessions from a direction that doesn’t take me near the old place. That way I keep only the positive memories of my youth that were so delightful. I picture our home at its best when it represented love and safety.

On sunny days when the temperature isn’t too hot there is a certain kind of breeze in the neighborhood that gives me a strong sense of deja vu. I can close my eyes and listen to the planes flying overhead as they approach nearby Hobby Airport and feel transported back to a time when the subdivision and the school were among the best in town. The sounds of the birds are just like they were when I was a kid and I can almost hear all of the old neighbors laughing and living inside their homes at a time when people still left their windows open and their doors unlocked. For a moment I find myself believing that they are all still there and that I might go see them after finishing my tutoring, but then something always stirs me back to reality and I remember.

The school where I was once a student has a new name now. It used to be Mt. Carmel but the Carmelites and the School Sisters of Notre Dame left and over time there wasn’t enough interest or financial help to keep things afloat. The school began to operate in the red without enough students or help from the diocese and finally was forced to close its doors. It was threatened with destruction until the Jesuits purchased the property and renovated the inside, creating a whole new high school called Cristo Rey. They brought in wealthy individuals willing to help support the education of students who might not otherwise have the privilege of an exceptional private school education. I now tutor some of those same kids and I have to admit that I am quite impressed with how well the hard working teachers and administrators have revitalized things for them.

It sometimes feels quite strange to be back in my old school fifty years after graduating. I tell my tutees about my own adventures there and they stare back at me as though I have two heads. I suspect that it is difficult for them to imagine an old lady like me as a young person with all of the same hopes and dreams that they have. I somehow feel that I am supposed to be there helping them. I have a deep connection and respect for the history of all of the wonderful things that happened inside those walls over the years. So many lives have changed for the better in the classrooms and the laboratories. I feel the spirit of all of us who launched our own lives there with the knowledge and confidence that we developed under the guidance of teachers and parents who truly cared about us.

As I walk through the hallways toward the library where I once devoured the words from books that opened whole new worlds to me I see the newest students experiencing the same emotions of joy and fear and discovery that were once mine. I know that we are somehow brethren. Some things like the freedom and wisdom and growth that come with knowledge never change. Whether they realize it or not those young men and women are part of the same long red thread of learning that wove through my mind so many years ago. We are bound together and no matter how different the world may become that red brick edifice will always represent the everlasting power and beauty of education.

Off Season Adventures

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Rocky-Mountain-National-Park-16-HD-Image.jpgMost of my life has been directed by the school year calendar. Whether as a student, a parent or an educator I measured my days in six or nine week cycles filled with reading, study and compositions. It was only in the warm months of June, July and August that I had enough free time to experience the wonders of nature beyond the confines of places near my home. I saw the world from the perspective of only a quarter slice of time. I had little idea that so much was happening in the places that I so loved while I was ensconced in classrooms and libraries. Because I did not have the benefit of taking a vacation at a time of my own choosing I never truly experienced the changing of the seasons or the differences in color and light from one month to the next. Mine was always a holiday shared with vast crowds. It was not until I finally retired from my labors that I began to see the world around me in new and quite enchanting ways.

Travel is quieter and less hectic when schools are in session. Campgrounds and hotels generally have many vacancies from which to choose. The roads are less congested and the drives are leisurely. There is no ticking clock announcing a need to hurry. There is a glorious feeling of aimlessness that allows for random explorations that lead to exciting discoveries. For the first time in my life I am at liberty to take advantage of my freedom from an academic calendar and head in any direction that I choose on any day that I wish. I experience an exhilarating freedom every time that my husband and I hitch up our trailer and head onto the open road.

I have seen the rich hues of red, orange, yellow and gold that paint the fall landscape. I have felt the crackling of the fallen leaves beneath my feet and the sting of a cool afternoon on my nose. I have stood all alone in a forest while the wind blew across my cheeks and tousled my hair. I have listened to the silence all around me. I have enjoyed a steaming hot bowl of chili at the top of a mountain in a restaurant preparing to close for the coming winter. I’ve stopped at a Buccee’s when I was able to park right in front of the door and walk straight through without bumping into hordes of people. These were wondrous moments for me because heretofore I had never been able to enjoy such experiences. I would have been busy imparting the knowledge and skills of mathematics to the latest members of my class.

I have learned that the ocean is perhaps at its loveliest in the winter. Its aspect changes from hour to hour. It may be draped in early morning fog and then glistening in afternoon sunshine. The beaches are pristinely empty and it takes little imagination to feel the sense of wonder that may have been the reaction of the first explorers who landed in such glorious places. There is a majesty in hearing only the sound of the waves and the flapping of the wings of the birds who have reclaimed the area for the season. I so love staring into the horizon and feeling as though I am looking into forever. I think of all of the people who have stood in the same spot from which I am viewing the splendor of the sea and wonder what dreams and stories unfolded from my vantage point. I find buried treasure in the form of sand dollars and shells of many shapes and colors. I eat the lunch that I have brought in silence, starring out as far as my eye can see and feeling that surely I have found a tiny slice of heaven.

I have passes to the Texas state parks and all of the national parks as well. I love to explore the trails and pathways that invariably lead to the most delightful destinations. I feel my energy and health improving with each step. It is a glorious way to exercise. I have no need of machines when the great outdoors is beckoning me. Everything that I need to shed anxieties and pounds is right in front of me. I forget about the stresses and concerns that so often plague me when I am communing with the forests and the creatures that skitter around me. I feel at home enjoying the bounty that no man is capable of reproducing. For all of our genius we cannot build a mountain or an ocean but we can enjoy and honor the wondrous bounty that nature still provides us and there is no better time than when our footprints do not have to compete with big crowds.

I never sleep as well as when my trailer is parked in a secluded area surrounded by trees or the vistas of a lake. I am caressed by the quiet and warmed by the heavy blanket that I always carry for cold nights. A simple cup of tea tastes like the nectar of the gods on such nights. The starry sky puts my own place in the universe into perspective. I understand that I am but a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things and yet I am unique and important. I feel content as I become a shadow in a darkness that is not possible in the lights of the city. I feel relaxed and I find the comfort of slumber so easily.

The food that I eat on such journeys always seems to be so good. A bite of baked chicken or a crisp apple lingers on the tastebuds of my tongue. I have no need to hurry my dining. I sit at the table and slowly partake of my simple feast while enjoying the antics of a rabbit or laughing at the cardinals that zip past my window. Sometimes a family of deer strut through my campsites and on occasion I see something truly exotic like a moose or a turkey or a roadrunner. It is like having dinner and a movie, more special than the most expensive night out and often I am among an elite group lucky enough to be present when few others are there.

I feel blessed to be able to enjoy my little adventures and to discover the world as it is during the school year. It is truly grand to visit places in the off season when the tourists are mostly gone. Sometimes my husband and I may be the only people in sight. In those moments I feel as though I am royalty enjoying a private beach or a castle in a forest of my own. Who knew how many simple pleasures were just waiting for me to find them? Traveling at odd times of the year is truly one of those little known secrets. It is the best.