Category: Family

One Picture, A Thousand Words

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

minnie bell85759993_133385194360A former colleague and friend has agreed to help me include photographs in the body of the book that I have written. I’ve spent a great deal of time  to that end sorting through boxes and albums containing images of family members that tell as powerful a story as the one that I have related with phrases, sentences and paragraphs. The old saying is that a picture is worth a thousand words and I have been reminded of the truth of that statement as I study each of the snapshots from my family’s history that have been forever captured in black and white, Kodachrome and pixels.

After my mother died my brothers and I spent many hours inside her home dividing up her few belongings. I was amazed at how many cards, drawings, letters, invitations, programs and photos she had saved. I found pictures that I had never before seen that had long languished inside boxes. It appeared that at some point my mom attempted to identify the people and the places so that we might one day have a clearer understanding of her personal history. The best of the lot were the black and white images from the nineteen forties when she was young and her whole adult life lay before her. Many of those images held commentaries such as “Those Happy Days” or “Such a nice person.” It was as though she wanted us to understand who she had been when the road before her was still based mostly on dreams.

I so enjoyed seeing my mother with her brothers and sisters, mugging for the camera, walking arm in arm down 1940’s Houston streets, and looking so incredibly young and beautiful. There were at least two quite handsome young men whose photos she kept, noting that they had purchased engagement rings for her before she had even met my father. One of them was killed during World War II and the other she turned down even as she noted that he was always a gentleman. I mostly loved seeing the pictures of my grandparents when they were younger than I remembered them, younger than I am now. I lingered over the postcards and panoramas from trips that Mama had taken. I laughed to learn that she traveled alone to San Diego when she was only seventeen to visit with a friend, demonstrating the daring spirit that would always define her.

My favorite photos were the ones that showed my mother and father flirting with one another during their courtship and early days of wedded bliss. It was almost shocking to see how young and in love they were. They mugged and teased in the style of the day. Mama vamped on top of automobiles and Daddy leaned on lamp posts gazing at my mother as though he had just won the lottery. Mama carefully recorded her feelings on so many of those pictures that show them in the first blush of their courtship.

Eventually the chronology of their life together led to photographs of me and my brothers. They took noticeably fewer snapshots of each other once we were born. Their lives appeared to shift focus. Their own visages became more serious. Instead of looking at each other they looked adoringly on us. Nonetheless, one image taken only months before my father’s shocking death shows them holding hands while walking down the streets of Hot Springs, Arkansas. It provides a testimonial of the depth of their feelings for one another. It shows one of those rare moments away from their children when they were relaxed and still so much in love.

The remainder of the memories are the story of our family life without our father. Somehow we managed to hit all of the milestones and find our own special kind of happiness. Of course that was mainly due to our mother’s determination to provide us with the safety and security that we needed at a time when our futures appeared to be so bleak. She did a yeoman’s job and somehow found the inner strength to provide us with a show of optimism in spite of our circumstances. I would find notations and writings that indicated the truth of the struggle that she silently and bravely endured.

My mother remained a pretty lady for all of her days. She possessed a radiance and unselfish spirit that drew people to her. Her albums are filled with memories of celebrations and parties and the people who meant so much to her. Eventually she grew tired and her friends became less energetic themselves. Many of them even died. She spent a great deal of her time alone. She collected readings from the Bible and verses that appealed to her. She wrote about the positive aspects of suffering and how enduring pain and loss had only made her feel closer to Jesus.

I discovered aspects of my mother’s personality and life story that I had never before known. I was able to gaze objectively into her world, not as her child but as a fellow human being. She had kept pieces of her heart hidden away and it felt amazing to get to know her in a whole new way. She became more real to me than she had ever been. I began to understand her on an almost spiritual level and I was awash with gratitude for all of the sacrifices that she had made for me and my brothers. It was a truly humbling experience to take a marathon tour of her memories.

We each travel through the modern world recording our own histories with selfies and images of the people that we know and the places to which we travel. Our faces and expressions tell stories of our passages through time. I wonder how many of our most special memories might one day be tossed away or deleted by distant descendants who don’t even know who we are. Will there be no one left to understand the meaning of our poses and our smiles? 

Whenever I eat at a Cracker Barrel restaurant I find myself looking at the old portraits lining the walls. I wonder who the people are and how their pictures ended up so impersonally decorating a place where nobody knows their names. There is a kind of sadness in knowing that their fate has become being a caricature of an era long past. It seems wrong that their lovely photographs have met such a lonely fate.

I now have a new goal. I plan to organize the thousands of photos that are in my possession. They will be far more meaningful for the next generation and those that come in the years long after I am gone if I take care in identifying their importance. My first step is going to be to include some of them inside the covers of my book so that my readers will have faces to put with the grand story of a little family that did its best to muddle its way through life. I hope that my words will equal the grandeur of how special they really were. Perhaps then the people that mean so much to me will find a way to live on forever. 

Mighty Men Too

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

I spent the last years of my career in the KIPP Charter system. I had heard about the work of two young men who had created a different kind of school based on high expectations and the simple but direct imperative, “Work hard. Be nice.” I saw working at one of the KIPP campuses as an opportunity to be adventurous before I retired. I wasn’t going to start my own school but I wanted to see what it was like to educate kids in a dynamic environment where first generation high school graduates were groomed from a young age to attend and complete college.

It was an exciting and often exhausting five years. As a teacher I had always given more of my time and talents than required and I felt ready to tackle the long work days of KIPP Houston High School. Somehow I had been a natural in my profession and I had few worries about meeting my responsibilities in a highly charged atmosphere. I was already that teacher who spent three or four hours each evening poring over student work and planning exciting lessons. I was ahead of my time in building personal relationships and keeping students and parents informed. I thought that being a member of the KIPP world would be a piece of cake for someone like me. I learned soon enough that it would be perhaps the most challenging, but also rewarding, five years of my life.

KIPP charter schools set the bar high for teachers, parents and students. The hours were long and the standards were demanding. It took some time to become accustomed to rising before the sun and arriving back home long after dark but it was the KIPP way of life and I had to adapt. There was a sense of urgency for everyone within the system, unspoken rules that each of us were capable of giving just a little more of our time and talents. There was no rest, not even in the summer. We were part of a grand crusade to change the trajectory of the lives of the young men and women who had promised to do whatever it took to get to and through college. We had to teach them the skills, knowledge and habits that they would need and they had to meet our never ending challenges. In the end what we accomplished appears to have worked rather well.

I have been attempting to showcase the talents of the students who were part of my KIPP family during my five year tenure. If I were to adequately mention every single person, it would take weeks. The success rate of KIPP Houston High School is astounding. So many of our kids have rewarded our own efforts with their incredible determination to overcome the odds that were often stacked against them. In talking with them I have noticed that there is a common denominator that defines their success. They mention again and again that they felt a kind of pressure to complete their educations because it was expected by the school, the teachers, their parents and their peers. They learned from their KIPP experience that dreams were more likely to come true if they put in effort day by day by day, just like climbing a mountain. Last weekend more incredible young KIPP men and women graduated from college and with the taste of success freshly rewarding them, they all realize that their journeys are still incomplete. 

Isaac Rivera was one of my Algebra I students. When he was in my class he often took advantage of my after school tutoring sessions, a fact that alerted me to his willingness to put forth extra effort when needed. He has always been an affable young man with a grin that spreads across his face without warning. He loves people and laughs with a twinkle in his eyes. He’s the kind of person who embraces the world full force, wanting to know as much about it as possible. Isaac enjoys having long conversations and learning about people, a trait that is endearing because it is always apparent that he is truly interested. In other words, Isaac is someone who is quite charming and easy to like.

Isaac took a bit longer to complete his college degree than he would have wanted but he understood that it was not a race. Besides, he was dealing with health issues as well as attempting to help his family. He worked hard and always believed that he would finish what he had started. This past Saturday I watched him as he proudly received a degree in Finance with a minor in Economics from the University of St. Thomas. It was fitting that the guest speaker, Governor Greg Abbott, spoke of the importance of being flexible in life and holding fast to dreams because that is something that Isaac has most certainly done. He now plans to begin a career of his own while helping his family to grow their business. Eventually he hopes to work toward an MBA as well as a PhD so that he might one day become a college professor. Given his track record so far, I have little doubt that he will achieve each of his goals.

Jesse Ortega was a member of KIPP Houston High School Class of 2012. He possesses a kind of charisma that has always made him a standout. He is a brilliant young man who received a scholarship to attend the University of Texas in Austin, an accomplishment that made him one of the elite students in the state. With an eye toward one day becoming a medical doctor, Jesse majored in Nutritional Science. He also graduated this past Saturday. He performed so well in his classes at the University of Texas that he was recently accepted to the Southwestern Medical School in Dallas where he will fulfill a dream that he has harbored for a very long time.

Jesse has a beautiful family that has stood behind him every step of the way. Like Isaac he experienced some health problems that might have detoured his journey were it not for the intense devotion of his parents and his sister, Guadelupe, who is perhaps his biggest fan and supporter. Together they have overcome one roadblock after another and there is every reason to believe that they will continue to help Jesse to realize his ultimate dream. Jesse knows what he wants and how to get it. He is unafraid to expend as much effort as needed. He will be a great doctor.

I am proud and honored to know these outstanding young men who are but two of the remarkable success stories coming from the KIPP world. Others who also took to heart the lessons that we worked so hard to convey are Christopher Jordan, graduate of Texas Tech, Taaha Akhtar, graduate of Georgetown University, Erik Guerrero, graduate of Lamar University, and Nathan Thai, graduate of the University of Texas in Austin. I am truly overwhelmed to know that I along with my colleagues played a teeny tiny part in helping these men to dramatically shape the direction of their lives.

I applaud those who continue the tireless work in schools across the country that serve to create a better future for our society. I thank the parents for the sacrifices that they have made as well. Mostly though I have to give credit to the young men and women who did the heavy lifting. They deserve all the praise. It has been great to watch them enter the adult world with determination and optimism. They continually show me that the world is progressing just as it should.

Life is Shiny and Awesome

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

13165981_10206207146842968_828197429741817811_nI’ll be the first to admit that the end of May through the beginning of June is not my favorite time of year. In fact, I tend to dread this period, for it cycles through the dates when each of my parents died. I’d love to be able to tell everyone that there comes a moment when I actually forget the trauma of Memorial Day, 1957, when my father was killed in a car accident, but that would be a lie. For fifty-nine years I have felt the same pangs of loss that I experienced way back when I was only eight years old. The fact that my mother died quite suddenly and unexpectedly on the very day before I was to celebrate my retirement five years ago, only compounds my solemn mood as I watch the calendar head to those two terrible anniversaries.

Of course I have learned how to cope and move on. It’s what we all must do, but somehow the sorrow that I felt upon the deaths of the two people who gave me life lingers in a back corner of my mind. The scars of those events have healed but the calendar annually reminds me of the magnitude of my loss and I experience a tiny itch of sadness. The faded memories return and always among them is remembrance of how wonderfully understanding my Uncle William was when my father died. It was he who took the time to check on me and my brothers amidst the confusion and chaos of that day. It was he who showed us what real love was when we needed it most. Ironically decades later it would be his son, Paul, and his granddaughter, Jan, who would lift up our hearts with stirring tributes to our mother at her wake.

The lovely spirit of Uncle William lives on so beautifully within the hearts of Paul and Jan. They are both special souls who bring a pure and innocent kind of sincerity to every situation. Like Uncle William they are both wise and far stronger than people might suspect. They provide me with important links to my past, stalwarts for the present and promise for the future.

Jan has seen her own share of tragedy of late. Perhaps the most shocking event was the death of her cousin last summer. In what seemed a horrible replay of my father’s death, Jan’s cousin was killed while on vacation in a freak motorcycle accident. He was young, full of life and Jan’s special confidante. He had a family that loved him and so much more that he needed to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen and yet it did, leaving Jan bereft beyond measure.

Jan and her family have struggled for months to deal with the emotions that have stalked them. In an almost unbelievable turn of events her mother’s father died within weeks of her cousin’s passing. Because she is such a loving person, Jan’s grief has been almost unbearable to watch. Somehow she has managed to keep herself together because she had a very specific goal. She was in the midst of earning a Masters Degree in Communications at the University of Houston. The demands of her coursework was unforgiving. She had to keep studying, researching, writing papers and defending theses. Somehow it was in the work that her healing process began.

I suspect that Jan still wishes that she might have one more conversation with her departed loved ones but she also knows that they would have insisted that she continue to move forward, and so she did. She graduated in early May with her degree and a host of honors. Somehow I saw in her the image and spirit of my Uncle William. He ever so quietly and humbly lived a most remarkable life. He was not as learned as Jan but he brought so much to every single interaction, even with strangers. He delivered mail in the same neighborhood for years and made a point to know the people on his route and to treat them with dignity and respect. He did odd jobs here and there so that he might provide his family with special treats. He always carried fifty cent pieces to give to us children and he often insisted that we have ice cream to celebrate even an ordinary day.

Jan is so much like him. She lights up a room with her generous spirit. My mother adored her and would have been touched beyond imagination to hear Jan’s praises. Jan is bound for a wonderful life just as my mom always said she would be.

On the occasion of her graduation Jan shared what she thought to be “wise nuggets” that demonstrate the depth of her character. “It’s what I’ve lost that makes me so incredibly thankful for what I have. It’s what I haven’t achieved that pushes me to achieve more. And it’s what I wait for that makes me excited for the future. I may be a dreamer, but I can guarantee that I will do anything in my power to achieve it, whatever it may be. Life is confusing and messy. You hit a few bumps and that frustrates you. Then, you see this light, and it’s awesome and shiny (because you life shiny stuff). What appears from the light? See, that’s the beauty part of life, you take the good with the bad until you reach that shiny light to find out what is there. Take the good with the bad and hold on to those you love.”

I imagine my mother, my Uncle William and all of the other folks who have always loved Jan are feeling rather proud of her right now. I know I am. I can’t wait to see which one of those six pending job offers she ultimately lands and where her journey will take her. One thing that I know for sure is that she will be not just fine, but remarkable.

Congratulations, Jan! We love you with all of our hearts. You bring us joy with your presence. You have a huge fan club and we plan to hold on to you with all of our might. You are truly shiny and awesome.

When We Would Rather Cry Than Smile

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

EmotionsMost of us go about our business each day quietly bearing burdens that we rarely mention. We tend to downplay our worries and sorrows, instead displaying a stiff upper lip and carrying on as if nothing has happened. When things become too much for us and we feel broken, we may find ourselves unable to keep it together. We experience a moment when we confide our woes or shed tears without the usual filters that we place on our feelings. Then there are those among us who always manage to keep a public face of strength and optimism even when they feel as though they are dying inside. We each have our unique ways of dealing with death, disappointment and hurt.

In today’s world there are so many avenues for venting our feelings, sometimes anonymously. We may adopt a pseudonym and comment on Disqus without anyone ever knowing who we are. We write in our diaries and journals and then lock them away for nobody’s eyes but our own. It is when we take our thoughts to the places of public discourse that we open ourselves to the slings and arrows of misunderstanding and criticism. Casually written words lack the meaning and nuances of a one on one conversation. Our ideas become twisted into the perceptions of someone who doesn’t really understand us. There are no intonations or facial expressions to bring subtlety to the discussion. It becomes difficult to clarify our intent after the fact or to exclaim, “That’s not what I meant at all.” Once we have to defend ourselves the true effect of what we had hoped to say is lost. Others have decided who we are.

Most people use public discourse to simply keep in touch with the outside world. They maintain a lighthearted front and may even be just naturally happy and optimistic. Their posts show us the wonderfulness of their lives. They stay away from political commentaries or any subject that might be misconstrued. They have learned how to be wary of revealing too many of their private thoughts. We sometimes wonder if their worlds are as truly perfect as they seem to be.

Braver souls continually allow us inside their heads. They have learned that this may be a dangerous thing to do but don’t appear to worry about what others may think. If they voice their beliefs they are likely to anger those whose thoughts are different. If they open their hearts and let us see their pain and suffering some will turn away in discomfort. It is risky to be honest about how we really feel, especially when the emotion that is ruling us in a particular moment is anger. Many among us prefer not to see the fears and uncertainties that are a part of each and every one of us and yet it should not be so. The truth is that no matter how hard we try to create perfect images of ourselves, the time comes in all lives when we only want to cry or scream or lock ourselves away in the dark. We feel a profound need for human compassion and understanding at the very times when we feel the most uncertain that it will be available to us. Sadly, we are sometimes ignored, spurned and even judged by how we react to life’s horrors.

Mike and I watched a documentary on Friday called The Flat. It was an innocuous title for a moving film. It all began when a young man’s grandmother died in Tel Aviv. He and members of his family gathered at the apartment where his grandmother had lived to help with the task of culling through her possessions to determine what was worth keeping and what needed to go. It soon became apparent that the home was a treasure trove of memories and history that opened up many questions about who the deceased woman had really been. The young man, a filmmaker, began an emotional journey along with his mother that would take them back to Germany.

The story itself was intriguing but I was even more fascinated by the way that the people dealt with their emotions. The young man became intensely curious about his grandparents’ past that had always been mysteriously left unmentioned. His mother insisted that what had happened to her mother and father before coming to Tel Aviv was in reality none of their business. She insisted that her parents only wanted to move forward in life and that she had respected their wishes, never probing to find the missing pieces of their stories.

As the tale unfolded the young man was visibly moved at every turn. He was upset that his grandmother’s prize book collection seemed to be worthless to everyone save himself. He grieved to learn that his great grandmother had perished in a concentration camp. He wondered aloud how his own mother might be so cavalier about all of their discoveries. She in turn continued to act as though she had been unaffected by the revelations that had been so surprising to her son. Sadly not even the more emotive son appeared to notice that his mother’s eyes told a story far different from the one that she tried so hard to portray. They displayed a deep and enduring sadness that was impossible to hide.

Grandmother, mother and son each approached the world in differing manners. The elder woman lived as though her life had never been touched by unspeakable tragedy. Her daughter respected those wishes, never asking painful questions. She simply played along with the pretense out of respect. The grandson was from a different generation. He needed to know the truth and to grieve for a family that he had never truly known. Thus it is with all of humanity. We choose different ways of reacting to life.

I am not an expert in the psychology of emotions. I’m not certain what kind of behavior is best. I suspect that it must be very difficult to maintain a steadying composure even in the face of tragedy. A stiff upper lip may serve well at work but to also maintain it in private must be truly painful. Likewise respecting another’s choices is something that we all must do from time to time but denying the way that we really feel is no small task. I suspect that allowing the natural God given feelings that we all have to come to the surface is the healthiest way to live. Admitting that we are feeling despair or anger in a given situation is akin to accepting that we are human. It does not seem necessary or even healthy to always be strong.

It really is okay to sometimes admit that we feel lost or even unappreciated. There are things that happen that make no sense, that seem so unfair. We can’t be expected to accept every aspect of our fates with smiles. It is appropriate that we “rage against the dying of the light.” It makes sense that we admit to how much we miss someone who is gone. Our feelings are very real and if we embrace them when they are appropriate, they will help us to overcome the most difficult moments of our lives.

My mother’s psychiatrist once told her that the sadness and depression that she felt after her mother died had nothing to do with the depression that was part of her bipolar disorder. He encouraged her to cry over the loss of her mother, noting that in doing so she was demonstrating just how normal she was.

We should not fear our emotions. Each of them was given to us for a valid reason. We simply need to learn how to embrace them appropriately. Nobody is immune from experiencing the entire range of feelings during a lifetime. We should celebrate those who are courageous enough to free themselves from the artificial constraints that our society sometimes imposes on us. There is no dishonor in letting the world know that, at least for the moment, we would rather cry than smile.

True Genius

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Ricardo156087_10152692762032964_8791629845699582724_n (1)It was on an excruciatingly harsh and cold school trip to Texas Tech that I first met Ricardo Sosa. A small group of students from KIPP Houston High School had been invited to compete in a science poster contest and I was one of the chaperones. We traveled in an old yellow school bus that had several noticeable leaks and a heater that was unable to keep up with the demands of the frigid snowy weather that we encountered. By the time that we finally arrived at our destination after a thirteen hour ride that sorely tested our endurance, we were like a band of brothers and sisters forever linked by the exhausting experience. The trip back home didn’t prove to be much better as we shivered in sub-freezing conditions and a steady snow fall created puddles of water inside the bus. Even then I noted just how resilient and optimistic Ricardo Sosa was. His energy and natural curiosity would ultimately serve him well.

Ricardo’s interest in science intensified in his remaining high school years. He took advantage of every opportunity to participate in summer jobs, seminars and projects that emphasized science, especially anything related to chemistry. It was in an elective class called Research that he would first meet a college professor whose influence would change the course of his life. After graduating from KIPP Houston High School he took his talents to the University of Houston where he originally wanted to major in Biomedical Engineering. An offer to work in a lab on an important project ultimately led him to change his course of study to Chemical Engineering. While he never alluded to his accomplishments it became apparent to me from reading between the lines that he was an exceptional student and that his professors realized and encouraged his potential.

Ricardo and a friend from high school, Jezael, often met me for lunch in the University of Houston Hilton or the student center while they were still undergraduates. I always looked forward to those visits where I learned of their progress and we shared our stories about being UH Cougars and KIPPsters. Ricardo was taking incredibly demanding courses and there were times when I felt certain that it was difficult for him to find the time to take the breaks to dine with me. Somehow he always managed to find a way to come to those meetings if only for a short time and it was a joy to hear from him.

I learned that he was working in a university lab on a research project with several of his professors, a great and unusual honor for a freshman. Somehow they had understood like I had that Ricardo was someone with an exceptional intellect and a trustworthiness that would never let them down. His work was exemplary and he became one of their most trusted assistants. As Dr. Jeffrey Rimer explained about Ricardo, “It is not often that I accept students at the freshman level, but I made an exception for Ricardo, having met him the year before he started at UH, I was impressed with his enthusiasm for research. During the past four years, his performance in my laboratory has been nothing short of outstanding.”

Of course I never heard much about these kudos from Ricardo, an infinitely humble young man. Instead his former high school teachers spoke of his successes at the university and indicated that he was a star among his peers. His lab work dealt with important experiments with potential new treatments for kidney stones. He assisted so professionally and with such dedication that his professors at the university were in awe of him and asked him to co-author two of the papers that described the progress that they were making.

Ricardo made his way through the grueling coursework required of his major, taking classes in advanced mathematics, chemistry, physics and engineering while continuing his work on the long term study that fascinated him. By his own admission the lab work sometimes stole time from his studies but it was also perhaps the most exciting aspect of his education. Last Friday he earned his degree in Chemical Engineering surrounded by friends and family who felt immeasurable pride for his accomplishment. There was much celebrating and fanfare but perhaps Ricardo’s most impressive news was still to come.

He has decided to continue his studies so that he might pursue a PhD. His professors encouraged him to apply for a National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship to help him finance his future work. Ricardo knew that only ten percent of the people who apply for this prestigious research fellowship are selected in any given year. He also realized that it had been four years since anyone from the University of Houston had been awarded the prize. Still he wanted to try because he is not someone to shy away from any task. Two other University of Houston students were finalists for the award but it was Ricardo who submitted the winning proposal based on his four years of work in the lab. The fellowship will take care of his educational expenses and provide him with a stipend as he works toward his doctorate.

Ricardo has always set high expectations for himself and has never been afraid to accept a challenge. He is an incredibly motivated young man who most importantly is fascinated by the way things work in the world around him. He would scoff if I were to call him a genius to his face but I believe that the title suits him well. His sharp mind combined with a nonstop work ethic is bound to propel him to do wondrous things. He is a thinking man with a determination not so much to earn fame and glory but to make a significant difference for mankind. I suspect that he would want to study and learn and discover even if it never earned him a dime. He has never lost the glorious curiosity that is the mark of the greats among us.

Perhaps the most important aspect of Ricardo Sosa is that he is a truly good man. He loves his family and is ever loyal to his friends. He has a never-ending sense of humor and never forgets to demonstrate his gratitude for those who have helped him. He believes in the importance of staying healthy by working out, running and eating right. He seems to have mastered all of the positive habits of a truly well-rounded person.

I feel blessed to know Ricardo Sosa. He is a very special person and I look forward to continuing our journey and watching the realization of his dreams and achievements.