Category: Giving

Empathy

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

comfortOne of my former students recently lamented what she saw as a lack of empathy in the world today. I have to admit that I have been fortunate to have encountered empathetic individuals over and over again. They have taught me how to forget myself and surrender to a state of pure understanding.

Just what is true empathy? The dictionary describes it as an awareness and acceptance of another’s feelings and emotions. In a sense it is the capacity to put oneself into another’s heart. Roman Krznaric, a founding member of The School of Life in London, has described some of the components of empathetic behavior in his book, Six Habits of Highly Empathetic People.

Dr. Krznaric notes that empathetic individuals are usually highly curious about strangers. They are genuinely interested in learning about other people, especially those who seem different from themselves. On my most recent vacation I continually found myself wondering about the men and women that I met along the way, particularly those who lived in tiny towns that appeared to have been forgotten by society. So many rural areas have little or nothing to offer their citizens. Life is a dreary prospect when the local economy is blighted. I saw so many abandoned businesses and factories that may have once provided hope but were now simply ghostly reminders of work that is now more and more difficult to find.

The people who lived in such places looked as though they were somehow trapped in a never ending cycle of want. They sat in front of broken down trailers or homes with littered yards, seemingly having nothing to do even in the middle of a work day. I imagined the dreariness of their lives. I felt that I understood why they might be attracted to the craven promises of politicians promising a way out of their situations. I also saw that they were proud people who would not want my pity. They held their heads high and stared straight at me in defiance.

They reminded me of a family to whom my grandmother had introduced me long ago, a group from the hills of Arkansas who lived in the most primitive conditions that I have ever seen. My grandmother cautioned me to suspend my judgement of them for they were hard working and kind according to her measure. I have never forgotten the way my grandma honored their humble hospitality and the treatment of respect that she insisted that we give them. I suspect that my first experience of empathy came at that moment.

Another empathetic habit is challenging prejudices and finding commonalities. I suspect that this is sometimes difficult for most of us because we rarely leave our own comfort zones. I grew up rather isolated from people who were different from myself. My mom taught at the local Catholic school so that my brothers and I might attend without paying tuition. Most of my classmates were middle class and many had well educated parents. While my family satisfied the government definition of poverty, my mom was adept at hiding that fact from us and the outside world. We fit in not realizing that we were imposters.

As a young woman in my twenties I began to encounter individuals who had experienced life in ways far different from my own. Their parents were classic blue collar types. They cleaned buildings for a living and drove dilapidated old cars. They often lived on the economic edge and had little interest in education. At first I felt as though I had landed on the moon when I met them but eventually I learned a great deal from them. They were not book smart but they had a common sense that made them quite intelligent in the ways of the streets. They were good people who showed me how to relax and enjoy the smaller victories in life. They were the kind of individuals who would not have thought twice about running into a burning building to rescue a puppy. I liked them very much and grew to respect them enormously. I found that in many ways I had more in common with them than with my college educated friends.

Empathy often comes from trying another person’s life. When I was in high school one of my teachers called that walking in someone’s shoes. He urged us to consider others’ circumstances before making judgements. Over time I have been in so many different situations and some of them have been quite dire. There were times when my mother was very ill that I felt abandoned by all of society. I understand what it is like to be responsible for someone and to have every door shut in my face. Along the way I always managed to find kind souls in the most unexpected places, people who held out their hands to help me when I was the most desperate. I learned to share my story and admit to my weaknesses. I realized that none of us are ever able to be all alone. We must sometimes be willing to accept the kindnesses of strangers.

Learning to be empathetic is not that difficult as long as we are ready to just listen. Often all a suffering individual needs is a friendly ear. At those times we don’t even have to actively find solutions to their problems. They only wish us to understand. When action is demanded we should be ready to go the extra mile for them like my long time neighbor and friend, Betty, has always done. It was well known on our little street that her door was open 24/7. Sometimes we didn’t even have to knock if we had a problem. She would see us heading for her door and meet us there, inviting us inside for a cool drink, a bit of dessert and a whole lot of loving wisdom. I suspect that over time Betty has helped countless people with her folksy intuition. I can’t remember a single time that I left her presence without feeling as though I had just conferred with an oracle of Delphi. To this day she is willing to drop everything to make a weary soul feel whole again. She has mastered the art of empathy just by being totally there for whomever seeks an audience.

When we focus on the lives of others rather than our own we are well on our way to becoming empathetic. I have been fortunate to meet many such people and my hope is that my former student will be lucky enough to enjoy such encounters. It is an amazing experience to realize that somebody has looked into your heart and truly understands and loves everything that they see. Each of us has the capacity to be that kind of person. We just have to begin the process by taking one step at a time and risking a suspension of judgement. It is not really that difficult to be empathetic once you get the hang of it and the rewards for being so are immeasurable.

It’s About Time

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Glenda Jones13516264_10209578242793605_5124992074342233422_nBack in the eighties my eldest daughter, Maryellen, was a member of the Janette Dance team at South Houston High School. She had taken ballet and tap lessons from the time that she was five years old, first at a church in Pasadena and later from Patty Owens near our home in southeast Houston. Our family budget often tended to be stressed beyond our means but we somehow managed to find the funds for the classes that she loved so very much. Over time it became apparent that she had a natural talent for dance, most likely inherited from my mother who had her own reputation for being light on her feet and as graceful as a swan. When Maryellen earned a coveted spot on her school’s dance team it seemed to be a reward for all of her hard work and determination. Our family time began to revolve around practices, performances at football games, cotillions, competitions, camps and shows.

I was a fairly young mom, only in my late thirties, when I joined forces with other mothers in providing costumes, decorations, food and other kinds of support for our beautiful young girls. We were all caught up in the joys of our children’s teenage years. We ladies often met to build sets or design programs. We became expert seamstresses who made intricate pieces of clothing. I still recall almost tearing my hair out while sewing the game day suit that Maryellen had to wear on Fridays during football season. It was a complex project but well worth the effort in the end. I recall volunteering to work long hours in those days and at those times I got to know the other moms who were as lovingly devoted to their children as I was to mine. There were dance competitions that demanded whole days of our time and summer camps that required long drives and funds that we might have used otherwise. We sometimes joined in the fun by performing in hilarious dance routines that made us the laughing stock of the audience but also demonstrated just what good sports we were. Those were some of the best times of my entire life and the memories of those days remain precious even today.

Maryellen advanced through the ranks of the team to become one of the military officers, a Lieutenant. She worked hard to meet all of the requirements of the honor, including choreographing original dances and designing costumes and props. Because she so loved the experience, so did I. Those were the wonder years in which her confidence and abilities grew under the watchful eye of her always committed instructor, Glenda Jones Bludworth, a loving woman who taught her dancers how to present themselves with grace in any situation. She was more than just a teacher. She became a friend, mentor and counselor to each of her students. Because we parents witnessed her devotion to our children, we loved her as much as our girls did.

As is usually the case with good times, they flew by all too quickly. Soon Maryellen was attending the University of Texas and focusing on more serious academic goals. She had little time for dancing as she studied constantly to earn the grades that would allow her to be accepted into the McCombs School of Business. The days of visiting Southern Imports in search of fabrics, feathers and sequins were gone. The worn section of carpet in our den where Maryellen had practiced all of her dance routines was the only reminder of those lovely days. I lost track of the women with whom I had spent so many hours. Time raced by and I too turned my attention to new challenges and adventures, forgetting for a moment the joys of being a dance mom.

It has been almost thirty years since Maryellen donned her leotards and dancing shoes. In the interim she earned degrees in Finance and Accounting, worked, married and became mom to four boys who find the stories of her days on the stage to be strangely confusing. Now she is the one who spends almost every free moment supporting her sons’ hobbies and talents. She is the one who now juggles the family budget to find all of the funding for equipment, camps, classes, trips and college so that her boys will be able to enjoy their youth as much as she did hers. Like I once did, she has a circle of friends whose commonality is based on swimming, scouts, theater and school activities. She keeps books for the teams and creates end of season slideshows. Her world is hectic but wonderful. She rarely thinks back to those days when she was an extraordinary dancer who riveted the attention of her many admirers. The memories seem to be both long ago and just like yesterday.

A group of Janette Dancers recently decided to host a kind of reunion of the classes who had been members of the team under the direction of their beloved Glenda Jones Bludworth. The “girls” are now in their forties and some are even knocking on the door of the fifties. Like Maryellen they have children in college, high school and middle school. They have enjoyed marriages and careers and evolved to a time in their lives when they more closely resemble their mothers and me were back in the day. They are beautiful women who learned their teacher’s lessons well and carry themselves with the poise and self respect that she instilled in them.

Happily they did not fail to remember their mothers in planning this event. We were invited to celebrate the life of Glenda Jones Bludworth along with them. I enjoyed sitting at a table with ladies who had been my constant companions so many years before. We bragged on the successes of our daughters and exchanged photos of our grandchildren. We recalled our own sacrifices of money and time and how we would not have changed a thing. We laughed at some of the silly things that we did and grew saddened as we remembered ladies who had been part of our mother brigade who are no longer alive. Mostly we each had remarkable stories of the wonderful influence that Glenda had on our children. We all agreed that she was one of those once in a lifetime educators who goes well beyond the requirements of her job. She reached into the very hearts and souls of her girls and helped them to find the strengths and talents that defined them as unique and outstanding individuals.

It was grand to once again be reminded of a time in life that was so happy for all of us. I found myself amazed that our time together had been so long ago and yet seemed so near and dear. I was particularly happy that all of the delightful young women whom I had watched grow in wisdom and age and grace had remembered and appreciated their amazing teacher. She had so truly earned the attention and praise that they heaped on her. All too often we become so busy with the demands of daily existence that we forget to show our gratitude to the people who did so much to make us who we are. We let the clock tick and tick until it is too late and our hearts are filled with regret that we never took the opportunity to voice the thanks that we always meant to convey. Somehow Glenda’s Girls understood that they needed to stop the passage of time for a few hours so that they might demonstrate how truly important their moment with her had been. It’s about time!

Go Forth in Remembrance

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

k10304515Memorial Day on the last day in May has come to represent the beginning of summer even though the laws of astronomy give that designation to a different date. It is a three day weekend holiday designated by Congress. There are few better times to buy mattresses or large home appliances. People flock to the beach on this day and gather around swimming pools and barbecue pits. American flags fly from the porches of homes all across the land. For many the true intent of Memorial Day has become lost in a haze of celebration having little to do with what this national holiday was originally intended to be.

The Civil War left our nation broken and bereft. Over 600,000 Americans had lost their lives in the conflict. People in both the north and the south attempted to heal their wounds and sorrows with annual tributes to those who had fallen in battle. The homage sometimes included parades but the main focus was to be found at the grave sites of the soldiers who had been killed in those terrible battles. Family, friends, and sometimes even sympathetic strangers would bring flowers to the cemeteries. Some even carried food for picnics and held solemn vigils. These were days of remembrance and honor that went by different names and occurred in different times and places.

Three years after the conclusion of the Civil War an organization of Union soldiers, the Grand Army of the Republic, established Decoration Day to be held on May 30 to honor those who had died in the Civil War. It is believed that this date was chosen because it coincided with a season when there is always an abundance of flowers. After World War I President Woodrow Wilson declared that the day be forevermore known as Memorial Day and that it be a time of remembrance for all soldiers who have died in the service of our country. It was not until the nineteen sixties that Memorial Day was set to occur on the last Monday of May to create a three day weekend associated with the national holiday.

Over a million members of the military have died while engaged in active duty. It is a staggering number and yet the vast majority of Americans today have little or no experience with losing a loved one or a friend in a war. Talk with individuals in their sixties, seventies, eighties and nineties, however, and there will be more and more eyewitness stories of young soldiers lost in World War I, World War II, the Korean War and the War in Vietnam. While those conflicts seem to be almost ancient history now, for those who saw the blood being spilled, the memories are as vivid as the actual events.

I have watched my father-in-law cry when reluctantly relating stories of fallen comrades in the Korean War. I have friends who speak of relatives who came back home dramatically changed from the War in Vietnam. They tell of husbands and fathers who still have nightmares because of what they saw. My mother’s eyes used to fill with tears as she told of school chums who never returned from battlefields across Europe and the Pacific. I have run my fingers across the names of school buddies whose bravery is forever proclaimed on the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C. My great grandfather did not die in the Civil War but he was charged with burying the dead after the Battle of Shiloh and official documents tell of the horrific nature of his duties.

Today our armies are staffed with volunteers many of whom continue to die in faraway places for a cause that we all too often don’t really understand. These young men and women are our first line of defense in an uncertain and often frightening world. Somehow they find the courage to carry out missions that most of us would be too frightened to do. When they die their families and friends suffer great loss. Many times those of us busy with our own lives are all too unaware of the great sacrifices that they have made.

War is hell and always has been. It would be so wonderful if we humans somehow managed to resolve our differences in peaceful diplomatic ways. For whatever reason, even our best efforts to avoid conflict are challenged again and again. We may want to isolate ourselves from the necessity to spill blood but history has shown us that we are sometimes given no other choice than to defend ourselves and lose our human treasure in the process.

I used to naively believe that one day mankind would evolve to a point at which the killing would forever stop. A lifetime of observing human nature has convinced me that there will always be some form of evil in the world and that sometimes we have to cut off the head of the serpent to save the innocent. Thank God for those with the courage and the willingness to do what must be done, even understanding that their efforts may result in death.

We must never forget the brave souls who gave their lives so that we might retain our freedoms. We may not know their names or be related to them in any significant way but we have benefited from their acts of courage nonetheless. There is no greater love than a man or woman laying down his/her life for another. It is incumbent on us to spend some time today reflecting on such sacrifices.

If you have children don’t fail to talk with them about why we have this holiday. Far too many of our youth are sadly ignorant of the real reason for our celebrations. It is up to us to teach them to remember and honor those who gave so much in the long arc of history. Simple gestures can be powerful reminders. Our children understand symbols and they like to hear stories.

My son-in-law and my grandchildren awoke early this morning to place American flags throughout their neighborhood. It is a ritual that they have repeated for many years now. I am proud of them for doing this in memory of our fallen heroes. It displays a special reverence that we as a nation are sometimes in jeopardy of losing. We must not equate respect for the dead with unbridled nationalism. It is the duty of present and future generations to never forget the true cost of war. Every life that is lost represents dreams that will never come true. If we honor those who gave everything, they will not have died in vain.

I have read that in our nation’s capitol the flag is raised on this day in the early morning and then lowered to half staff to remember all of the soldiers who have died for this country. At noon the flag is raised again to represent the glory of our nation that has resulted from their courageous deeds. I encourage you to both remember and celebrate. Go forth and enjoy the fruits of the sacrifices made for all of us.

Mighty Women Part II

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

One of the goals of KIPP Houston High School, where I spent my last years as an educator, was to assist students in the journey to and through college. We developed an iron-clad three pronged relationship between our students, their parents and all of us who worked in the KIPP world. That connection continued even after our pupils had graduated. The idea was to offer our support so that the young men and women might be able to navigate through the many ups and downs of life and still earn college diplomas. I always felt that the most powerful aspects of the triumvirate were actually the students themselves and their families. We teachers, counselors and administrators were mostly a safety net and source of information, facilitators if you will. It was the grit inside the hearts of our kids and the love that they experienced from their parents that has made them so enormously successful. This past weekend I witnessed the power of my former students over and over again.

Christine Marsh was a standout in my Algebra I class, someone that I noticed on the very first day. She is beautiful, intelligent, friendly and loving. She is the kind of student whom teachers love, the golden girl with all of the characteristics of a truly gifted and talented individual. Somehow she has managed to also be humble and thus she has always been quite popular with everyone. As she progressed through the four years of high school her aura of greatness only increased and everyone who knows her suspects that she is destined for great things.

Christine started her college career at the University of Texas and it did not go as well as she had hoped. Somehow it was not a good fit for her and so she came back home feeling a bit defeated. She went to work and reflected on how to make a comeback. It was a bit rough in the beginning but Christine is made of hardy stuff and she began the process of going to college anew at the University of Houston, applying the full force of her determination and intellect to both her job and her studies. As Christine likes to joke, she took “the six year scenic route,” which was often grueling and tested her endurance to the max.

This past Friday Christine Marsh walked across the University of Houston stage and proudly accepted the diploma that speaks of her triumph. She promises to continue to work hard and be nice, never forgetting the KIPP mantra that helped her to reach her goal.

Cindy Lugo-Jaimez, another KIPP alumna, always seems to be a friend to everyone. She has a generous heart and an unflagging willingness to help anyone in need. Her kindnesses haven’t always been returned, but Cindy just smiles and continues to be the sweet person that she is, regardless. In the spirit of giving, she enrolled in the College of Healthcare Professions and somehow managed to give her all to her family while earning high marks and consistently landing on the Dean’s List. 

Cindy proudly continued to dote on her three beautiful children, which is a full time job for anyone, but proved that she is truly a super woman when she earned a diploma that seems perfect for her giving personality. She is now officially certified to be a medical assistant. She has become an awesome role model for her kids and for all of us who have watched her persistence. She will without a doubt be incredible in her new job.

Brooklyn Taylor was what some educators might call a challenge. She went through high school with a bang, ever vigilant for signs of  unfairness. She possesses a brilliant mind that is as strong as a steel trap. If we had offered debate at our school she might have been a champion. As it is, she always speaks up whenever she feels that anyone has been wronged. Her logic and her arguments are flawless and her fellow students admire her for her courage.

While in high school Brooklyn served as the Vice President of the National Honor Society and introduced her classmates to the world of autism by raising awareness and funds for a program that channeled the unexplained mysteries of autistic children into skateboarding. Brooklyn’s concern for those with special needs goes far beyond a cursory interest and she has continued to spend her summers serving as a camp counselor and devoted advocate for them.

At our school, Brooklyn had a following among certain members of the faculty who saw a uniqueness in her inquisitive nature. I was not alone in admiring her. She developed a strong bond with one of her social studies teachers who had attended William and Mary University as an undergraduate. He saw greatness in Brooklyn and encouraged her to apply to his alma mater. We were all quite happy for her when an acceptance letter arrived. Now, she is officially a graduate of William and Mary and the rest of her days are bound to be as exciting as they have been thus far.

When Linda Ayala was at KIPP Houston High School she was a founding member of the UNICEF club. She donated countless hours of her time to raise funds for various causes, including providing help for those devastated by the earthquakes in Haiti. She is an unassuming young lady who worked hard at her studies and helped without a great deal fanfare or hesitation. I remember her mostly for her sweet and sincere smile and her willingness to do any job that I gave her.

In my last days before retirement there was still a great deal of money in the UNICEF account and the officers of the club voted to distribute the funds before I left. After giving to the American Red Cross and several local charities, the officers felt that it would be nice to provide a small scholarship to a deserving member of the organization. Linda was their overwhelming choice and she used their gift well. This weekend she graduated from Syracuse University and is now ready to put her many talents to the test.

Gabrielle Martin caught my eye way back in high school. She bears herself with the kind of unassuming dignity that befits a woman of distinction. She had been looking forward to her graduation with great expectation but the realities of the world intruded on her celebration. Sadly her mother ended a battle with cancer only days before the commencement exercises. Gabrielle graduated from the University of Houston with a degree in Public Health on Friday and buried her mother on Saturday. It was a bittersweet moment for her because it had been her mother who had always inspired her to be her very best. It seemed unimaginably horrific for such a thing to happen and my heart has been grieving for Gabrielle unremittingly. 

In many ways, Gabrielle is the mightiest of all of the outstanding women whose stories I have told. She has demonstrated the depth of her strength in a situation that would have broken most of us. I am certain that her mother’s bright spirit lives on inside of her. I pray that one day her broken heart will heal and she will know that her mom is indeed an angel guiding and protecting her forever. 

Gabrielle is truly my hero.

I am so proud of each and everyone of these young women. As long as they grace our world we are all just a bit better. Let their adventures commence. They will be fascinating.

World, I Hope You’re Ready!

Published on by Sharron Burnett1 Comment

13012597_10153446008322882_3480606950507260717_nThere are certain people who are just one of a kind. There are no pat phrases to describe them. They are beyond platitudess. They possess commanding confidence that defines them wherever they go. Jiovanni Christian Jones is just such a young man. Besides his imposing stature, he is blessed with a bigger than life personality. Perhaps his characteristics are simply part of his DNA. His mother, whom he loves dearly, is a beautiful and brilliant woman who draws all eyes as soon as she enters a room. Together Jiovanni and his mom seem capable of conquering anything the world throws at them.

I never had the privilege of teaching Jiovanni but I inherited the honor of being the grade level chairperson for the Class of 2010 at KIPP Houston High School and he was a member of that gloriously interesting group. We all called him “Jio” and it became quickly apparent to me that he was not only extremely bright but also that he would never be content with merely standing quietly on the sidelines of life. In fact, he was and still is one of those quick-witted individuals who analyzes and questions virtually everything.

Some educators are annoyed by such students but I have always had a special place in my heart for such freedom fighters. Of course, I thoroughly enjoyed his challenges and noted with pride that he is a very reflective person. Jiovanni has the mindset and skills of an advocate for justice. He is a community organizer, one who sees the problems with society and is never content to simply allow injustices to thrive. He is not just the kid who asserts that the emperor has no clothes when nobody else is willing to do so, but the activist courageous enough to suggest plans for changing the status quo. His eagerness to freely speak his mind has not always found a receptive audience but to me he is a hero. I have always admired fearlessly principled individuals and Jiovanni Jones is definitely willing to take a stand.

I have gathered over the years that he comes by his advocacy quite naturally, for both his mother and his grandmother taught him to do what is right, not what is easy. In fact, Jiovanni often applauds his mother whom he sees as the quintessential role model. She is a lawyer and has served on the Houston City Council and as a member of the Houston Independent School District Board. Recently she was tapped to star in the reality television program, Sisters In Law. She is a stunningly beautiful woman but her real grace comes from her daring. Jio has inherited both his striking good looks and his boldness from his mother and I fully expect him to make as profound a mark on society as she has.

This past weekend Jiovanni graduated from Texas State University with a degree in Management. In typical fashion his walk across the stage was uncommonly exciting and I suspect that those who witnessed his gleeful dance will not soon forget him. He is a joyful person and his obvious euphoria at the moment of well-earned achievement is so in keeping with the essence of his personality. Jiovanni can be a barrel of fun or as serious as he needs to be. I’ve enjoyed some conversations with him that challenged me to really think about current issues in brand new ways. Whenever I was willing to listen to his point of view, I always learned something. He is as devoted to fairness as anyone that I have ever known and his heart is far more kind and generous than his comical antics sometimes demonstrate. There is a real seriousness of purpose behind all of the laughter.

I remember a day when Jiovanni volunteered to accompany me in delivering toys and clothing items to a charitable organization that provides refuge for young children. Jio and his fellow members of the National Honor Society had worked hard to fill huge boxes with wonderful items and he was excited as I was to be able to do something to make those kids happy. As we drove to our destination we had a long time to converse and I enjoyed having the time to get to know him better. When we finally found the place we attempted to procure someone to take our donations. Things did not go as well as we had planned. It would be an understatement to say that we were treated rather brusquely. The people in charge hardly had time to speak with us. They took our carload of contributions as though we were somehow bothering them rather than being generous.

Jio was visibly bothered by the lukewarm reception that we received but he ever so politely maintained his composure. I felt compelled to debrief about what we had just witnessed and ultimately we decided that there was really no excuse for lack of appreciation that we had received. Nonetheless, We agreed that it still felt good to know that our boxes were filled with wonderful surprises for the children and somehow that was all that really mattered. We would later receive a thank you note from the organization in which they seemed to have finally realized what a profound mistake they had made.

I don’t know exactly where Jiovanni’s path will lead him. I have no doubt that he’ll be a good manager because he loves people and they love him back. He has a quiet faith and a big heart that will make him someone for whom people want to work. He is ready to rock the world and says it best in his own words, “That time has come! It’s time for me to write the next chapter of my life. It’s time for me to change the world. Thank you momma Jolanda Jones. You have helped me understand this life and understand what it takes to be a black man in America. I’m getting this degree for you as much as me. I love you. Thank you to all my friends and family who have also helped me make it through. It takes a village! World, I hope you’re ready for me! Here I come!”

I recommend that all of you keep your eyes on this young man. He does exactly what he says he is going to do and he is on his way. Congratulations, Jiovanni Christian Jones. We are all waiting for your impact and those of us who know you expect that it will be grand.