Category: Parenting

Why We Love “This Is Us”

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

This Is Us - Season PilotJack, Rebecca, Kate, Kevin and Randall visit living rooms all across America on Tuesday evenings and the nation is in love with them. The hit series This Is Us tells the story of complex familial relationships through flashbacks and the present. The show provides us with a look at the dynamics of an unusual family that manages to seem so real and so much like us. It has stolen the hearts of fans and critics alike. After each new episode Facebook and Twitter fill with commentaries from devotees whose emotions have been aroused once again by the sheer humanity of the writing and the acting of the ensemble cast, but there is more to the This Is Us phenomenon than talent. There is something so relatable about the characters and stories that it reaches deep into our psyche’s and pulls out thoughts and feelings we have experienced in our own lives. It is so very real.

The series begins with Jack and Rebecca, a young couple very much in love but struggling with the fears that are part and parcel of married life, a lack of ample funds, worry about differing beliefs and the surprise of becoming the parents of triplets. Almost immediately there are kinks in their best laid plans that both strain and bless their lives. Their family’s journey into the present day is littered with the ups and downs that we all experience. Sometimes they seem to hit home runs with their wisdom and at other times they fall far short, creating damaging secrets and hurts that affect everyone.

Kate, Kevin and Randall are the children. There is a brilliant twist in their story that I will not reveal lest I be a spoiler for those who have not yet tuned in to this acclaimed show. Kate struggles with her weight and more importantly, her confidence. She has fought the temptations of eating from her childhood, a difficulty made even more intense because her mother seems to her to be a perfect and exceedingly beautiful woman. Kate is giving and loving and never appears able to put her own needs before those of her brothers and even her boyfriend. She lives to please but finds herself continuously unhappy and confused about what her true role in life should be. She has her own beauty and talents but has subjugated them for so long that she doesn’t even appear to know that they exist.

Kevin is handsome and seemingly full of himself. When we first meet him he is an actor in a successful television series that is nonetheless ridiculously silly. He longs to be more than a shallow caricature and seeks a more serious part, quitting his steady job in a fit of pique. In spite of all of his attributes he is as unsure of himself as Kate. There is an emptiness in his soul that he doesn’t know how to fill. He relies on his family, particularly Kate, for the reassurances that he seeks.

Randall is the odd man out. He is far different from his siblings, highly successful and brilliant. He is the only one who has a family of his own with a gorgeous wife and two adorable daughters. Still, he too longs to know himself better and in his quest for his identity he discovers long buried secrets that test his relationships with the other members of his family. 

This Is Us charts the dangerous waters of real life. It holds up a mirror to the human experience in which we see our own reflections juxtaposed with those of the very believable and lovable characters. They are us with their sibling rivalries, bad choices, and deep devotion to one another. We laugh and cry with them each week because we understand both their pain and their triumphs, for we have walked in their shoes both as children and as parents. We understand what it is to muck up situations when our intentions are so good. We have felt the same slights and unwanted jealousies in our own relationships. We all seek the best of ourselves but too often fall short of expectations. Our lives are wrought with failures and victories. We pick ourselves up from defeat over and over again and keep trying because that is who we are and how we are made. We feel the pain and the joy of Jack, Rebecca, Kate, Kevin and Randall in the most gut wrenching ways. We root for them as though they are real. That is how good the writing and the acting on this show is.

Even with the hundreds of channels and thousands of twenty four hour choices that we have for our watching pleasure in today’s media driven world television is still mostly a vast wasteland. This Is Us is one of those rare jewels that becomes an instant hit from the first moment that we meet the incredible and believable characters. It is a grownup version of The Wonder Years in which the angst of childhood has matured into the difficulties of being an adult. Human imperfections and resolutions drive a narrative that comes to life in the hands of incredible actors like Sterling K. Brown, Milo Ventimiglia and Mandy Moore. Each week the ensemble cast provides us with a tour de force of raw emotion and laughter that we discuss over the water cooler and dining table until the next installment as though we are speaking about our own families.

At times I feel like Rebecca, a mom doing her best to provide her children with the finest possible upbringing but being equally unsure that I have done things properly. At other times I am Kate walking in the shadow of a mother who seemed to be perfection itself and two brothers who never really understood what it has been like to be a woman competing for attention with men. I have known Kevin’s frustrations and the sense that I might do better things with my life than I have already done. I have known the same feelings of being an outsider that stalk Randall. Mostly I have been totally and unapologetically in love with my family just as these characters are with each other. I know that at the end of the day no matter what has happened my brothers will be there for me and I for them. Together we share a bond built on a lifetime of adventures. It is who we are.

If you haven’t yet begun to watch This Is Us I highly recommend that you do so when it returns for the winter season. Previous episodes are now available for catching up with the story. Start from the beginning to better understand why they are who they are. You won’t regret letting this lovable family into your heart. Be sure to bring some tissue with you because the tears will surely flow as you tag along with them and recall your own family memories. Their story belongs to all of us.

  

The Gift of Love

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Gift pileA Boys and Girls Club in Atlanta recently performed a small experiment and filmed the results. They brought in young children whose economic status was such that they might not receive any gifts for Christmas and asked them what they would choose if they could have their dream present. The kids wanted everything from a laptop computer to more traditional toys. Then they were told to name something that might be good for their parents. The ideas included jewelry, a big screen television, articles of clothing and such.

The children were delighted with the idea of being able to provide a surprise for their family members but soon learned that there was a twist. They would either receive the gift for themselves or the one that they had chosen for the parent. With the two items sitting in front of them every youngster took only seconds to conclude that giving was far more important than receiving and they picked the presents for their loved ones, noting that nothing was better than family. In the end the children actually received both gifts but not before genuinely believing that they were giving up their own dream presents.

Human nature tends toward goodness rather than evil. We see news reports of vile incidents but given the millions upon millions of people on this earth they are the exception rather than the rule. One of the reasons that we are so shocked when violent acts occur is because the odds of their happening is generally low. Mostly our world is filled with decent people who have generous spirits much like the children who were willing to sacrifice their hearts’ desires for their parents.

The kids were correct in noting how much their moms and dads had done for them. The average parents do incredible things for their children on a regular basis, setting needs and desires aside just so the little ones will enjoy safe and happy lives. Their offspring are rarely far from their thoughts. They feed and clothe them and provide as safe and loving environments as possible. They teach them and play with them. Theirs are full time jobs that begin early in the morning hours and extend until late at night, sometimes with interruptions that deprive them of sleep. The routines last for years and even when the children leave home as adults the parents still worry and fret. Somehow the caring behaviors are almost instinctual with models for parenting passed down from one generation to the next.

Of course we hear of want, abuse, neglect, broken families and we worry that our society is losing some of its vitality. We wonder if single parent homes are as strong as those with two parents. We fret that very non-traditional situations may harm children. I have found in my own experience that as long as the household is centered on love, kids will thrive. They do not need things as much as they need to know that someone truly cares for them.

I often hark back to stories that I have heard from my students. I recall the little girl whose only wish was that her mother might receive a mattress from Santa Claus so that her parent would no longer have to sleep on a pallet on the floor. I think of the young man whose goal of graduating from high school was motivated by the sacrifices that his mom made everyday. His eyes filled with tears as he thought of her arriving home from work late each night after toiling for fifteen hours. He spoke of her exhaustion and swollen ankles and her never ending desire to build a better life for him. He was determined to do whatever it took to pay her back for all that she had done.

My own mother had few possessions. Her focus had always been on me and my brothers and eventually on her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Her closet held more gifts for us than clothing for her. She kept a card table at the ready for wrapping presents and shopped for bargains all year long, storing items away for birthdays and Christmas. She enjoyed our excursions to stores where she might find a seventy or eighty percent off sale with additional coupons that brought prices down to a range that she might afford. She combed through aisles searching for just the right delights for each person. When the time came to present her treasures to the lucky recipients she felt as joyful in watching them react as she would have if she had been surprised with a brand new car. Like the children who were willing to give up their own gifts, our mama essentially chose to sacrifice her personal desires in favor of ours over and over again.

I have enjoyed reading since I was quite young. One of my favorite stories from O. Henry was The Gift of the Magi. It is a Christmas classic that tells of a young man and woman with very little money who struggle to purchase each other the perfect gift. The ironic tale demonstrates our human tendency to go to great lengths to bring happiness to those that we most love.

In this holiday season the stores will be filled with people hoping to find the perfect gifts to demonstrate their profound feelings for their families and their friends. Some see this tradition as being too commercial but I choose to think of it as an outward sign of our never ending love for those who mean so much to us. We may sometimes overdo things a bit but for most of us the intent is as pure as the characters in O. Henry’s story. The season of giving derives from the ultimate sacrifice that the baby born in a manger in Bethlehem so long ago would eventually make for all of us, His very life.

This is my favorite time of year when our generous natures shine forth in the lights and the many symbols of the season. Whether we celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa, or simply enjoy a holiday from work there is a happiness all around the world that comes from sharing our blessings with others. We’ve been celebrating and giving in the middle of winter for centuries and something tells me that we will continue for many more, at least I hope that is the case. Underneath all of the tinsel is love.

All of Our Children Are Counting On Us

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

9a945d_4435eeaa3277414191c121355b206929I spent most of my life in a classroom either as a student or a teacher. I still go back to schools a couple of times each week but the long hours and hard work that I once knew is a thing of the past. These days I mostly enjoy retirement but I still recall what it was like to endure those weeks that fall between Thanksgiving and the Christmas holidays. To put it mildly, it was always quite difficult because the students were hyped up and wanted to be doing anything else but studying. Keeping them occupied took a slight of hand and those midyear exams almost always required a curve even for the most dedicated of pupils.

I once learned of a proposed plan for year round schooling that would have included a month long holiday that spanned the weeks from Thanksgiving all the way through New Years Day. Instead of having three months off in the summer, students and teachers would have long vacations spread throughout the year. It wasn’t actually a particularly bad idea but the logistics proved to be more than the powers that be were capable of handling. Parents who worked complained the most because they would have no means of caring for their children during the off times. One idea was to hold intersessions at the schools staffed by teachers and part time workers who wanted to make some extra cash. Most of the educators worried that they would be forced to accept such positions and end up without any vacation time at all. There was also concern that they would be unable to pursue advanced degrees since many of those offerings occur during the summertime. It proved to be an interesting idea that ultimately failed.

There are hundreds of critiques of education but few doable suggestions for improvement. We have a system that has been operating with little change for decades and we are somewhat unwilling to try new ideas. I have to admit that the most tantalizing possibility lies in creating smaller schools but the infrastructures required would be incredibly expensive. Still I have noticed that when I have been in less crowded situations everybody seems happier and more productive.

There is a great deal of talk about using vouchers that would allow students to attend schools of their own choosing. They might take the government money to a private school or perhaps a charter school. While this may appear to be a tantalizing fix I can foresee a number of problems with such plans.

The first lies in the erroneous assumption that private schools are considerably better than those in the public sector. The blue ribbon private schools are generally populated with students who have been carefully selected through admissions tests. Only those students who score the highest are even considered. There are often long waiting lists for the most distinguished campuses. It is highly unlikely that an average public school student would even make the cut for consideration. Even then the tuition is generally far more expensive than the government vouchers would cover.

The lower levels of private schools are sometimes inferior to a mid-range public school. They often hire inexperienced or untrained teachers. The curriculum is haphazard and students end up falling behind their peers. I have seen situations in which certain private schools are sadly lacking in up to date facilities, materials, and methodologies. It is a mistake to assume that being private makes a campus exceptional.

One of my most exciting teaching experiences occurred in the KIPP Charter schools. Unfortunately there are more stories of failure within charter programs than successes similar to what the KIPP model has achieved. Parents are constantly being enticed by educational charlatans who have only minimal knowledge of how to run a good program. I fear that initiating a government approved voucher system would only further encourage more educational malpractice rather than improvement.

What we really need is to focus on what has made some public schools more successful than others. Certainly the attitudes of the parents, students and teachers plays a huge role in determining the overall atmosphere of a particular campus. When everyone cares and works toward a common mission miracles really do happen. I have also noticed that creating enduring relationships between all three of the actors in education is critical. A common voice and a true sense of sharing the work moves mountains. Every person counts in the truly great schools.

Students need to believe that society cares about them. When a building is old and dirty a not so subtle message pervades everything. It’s difficult to believe that education is important if the roof leaks, the floors are dirty and the paint is peeling from the walls. I recall a teacher who made her classroom as inviting as a beautiful home. She spent weeks each summer painting and replacing worn out furniture with lovely pieces that she purchased with her own money. She hung art work on the walls and kept fresh flowers and green plants in the windows. The area was spotless and inviting and her students loved her. They often commented that she made them feel special by making her room a kind of refuge. She showed them with outwards signs that she thought them worthy of more than the institutional feel of the rest of the building.

We certainly have much work to do in education. We need to get parents more involved and have more power to remove teachers who only show up for paychecks. The good news is that my years in education have shown me that the vast majority of teachers are devoted to their professions. They do far more than most outside of their world will ever realize. We need to reward such professionals with our gratitude and maybe even some compensation now and again. The truth is that they are more often than not purchasing whatever their students need with their own funds when the money is not available from the schools. Their school year routine includes hours that far exceed a normal forty hour week as well. It’s time that we quit insinuating that they are somehow inferior. We would be wise to elevate our great teachers with tangible compliments and rewards.

I wish that education would become a national priority. There are good things happening all across America but we don’t often identify exactly what makes them work. We need more research and development and the realization that there never will be a one size fits all way of doing things. Choice sounds great on paper but I believe that in the real world we just need to work on improving all of the schools that we already have. That may mean making them smaller, finding more exceptional teachers, building more inviting structures, making education cool, and involving entire communities in the process. Simply moving money from one place to another just won’t cut it. It’s time for all of us to be more serious and creative. All of our children are depending on us.

The Rainbow Connection

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

400px-double-alaskan-rainbowIt’s my birthday today which is no doubt why I have been rather nostalgic this week. I’ve found my thoughts returning to my mother and father who taught me so many worthy lessons, sometimes just through their actions rather than their words. Truth be told I owe so much to them starting with my very existence. After all my story would never even have commenced were it not for their love and willingness to share it with one another and then with me and my brothers.

They were so very young when they decided to take on the world together. They were still kids who had only a vague idea of what they wanted their lives to be. When I was born couple of years after they married my mother was twenty two and my father twenty five. We lived in rented apartments while my father finished his education at Texas A&M. Both of them doted on me. I don’t exactly remember their attention but old black and white photographs confirm my belief that I was loved.

My mother kept track of my milestones in a baby book that bears her carefully crafted notations on my progress. She kept every card and photo from my early days in an album that I still have. I sense her joy on those pages and see that the love that surrounded me came not just from my parents but from a great big extended family and a host of friends. That love became the foundation on which my character was built brick by brick.

My father wasn’t around for very long. By the time I was eight years old he had died. I never forgot how much he enjoyed reading and those wonderful moments when he would sit on the couch sharing his favorite stories and poems with me while we snuggled. I suppose that my own love of books was born in those moments and it has been a way for me to keep his essence alive in my mind.

He was a man who did many things very well. He loved to fish like his mother and never came home from an expedition without a stringer full of catches that Mama would fry up for countless dinners. He was an artist with handwriting and printing that rivaled the monks of old who copied manuscripts. He built models of houses and buildings, miniature versions with tiny details. He was a student of history with a memory for facts and dates that was uncanny. He had many friends whom he entertained with an endless round of jokes. Most of all he loved his Texas Aggies with unquestioned loyalty. Weekends in the fall were devoted to following their football games on the radio with his best buddy, Lloyd.

He was a conscientious man who arose early each morning to go to work so that his family might enjoy a good life. In the evenings he loved to share stories while we ate. He was so in love with my mother and very proud of me and my brothers. Still he had a kind of adventurous itch that came from constantly moving when he was a boy as his father searched for construction work. Somehow he was never quite content with the idea of settling down. He always seemed to be dreaming of travel and the next move. I suppose that it was only fitting that he would be out and about on a summer evening driving aimlessly in his car when he went into a ditch and died instantly.

My mother had a childlike innocence about her. She was the youngest of eight children and had been adored by her entire family. She was a bit spoiled but in a good way. She was always self assured and certain of herself. She was a romantic who was madly in love with my father. She enjoyed her life as a homemaker and mother, never having any desire to venture from the home in search of work. She was fulfilled in the role that she had dreamed of living. She had already been an administrative assistant to a judge and a dean of engineering. She was proud of her work but did not need it to feel good about herself. She thought that she would always be a stay at home wife and mother and she did that job as well as she had done virtually everything that she had ever attempted. When my father died she was only thirty years old with three very young children. She was heartbroken in a way that would never completely heal. She dug deep inside her soul and found the strength that she needed to carry on. I know that from that point forward me and my brothers were the focus of her life. There was nothing else that mattered more to her.

She struggled financially and eventually realized that she would have to find a job. She earned a college degree and became a teacher all while somehow managing to run a household and insuring me and my brothers that we would still have a normal life. Her energy seemed boundless and her optimism was infectious. She was an angel in every possible way who was beloved by all who knew her. Our home was always brimming with friends and family who enjoyed her warmth and effervescence. Even though she worried incessantly about finances she never let on to us. She used to tell us that she had a money tree in the backyard and that Jesus loved widows and fatherless children so much that He would always make sure that we had what we needed.

Eventually the stress of being so many things to so many people caught up with her. She developed severe systems of mental illness and my role and hers switched places from time to time. I had to learn how to care for her whenever the depression and mania of that disease took hold. Somehow she never allowed her illness to change her always loving and hopeful spirit nor to steal her innocence. One of her favorite songs was Rainbow Connection from The Muppet Movie. Whenever she heard it tears would form in her eyes and she would smile. The song spoke to who she was as a person.

So as I celebrate on this anniversary of my entrance into this life I think of my parents and the gifts that they gave me that began the evolution of who I am as a person. I am a unique amalgam of each of them along with other traits that I picked up along the way. I am thankful that God chose those two people to create me. They both taught me how to love unconditionally, find strengths within and how to open my heart and my mind to the world. They gave me curiosity and optimism, joy and resilience. They showed me how to look forward and to trust in the goodness of the people who surround me. I’m so very glad that they gave me an opportunity to live and to celebrate the beauty of existence. They were lovers and dreamers who showed me how to find the rainbow connection.

Be What You Want Them To Be

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

nature-vs-nurture-or-bothEach of us is a product of nature and nurture. Our genes determine the color of our eyes, the texture of our hair, our proclivities toward disease and illnesses. It is our environment from which our points of view and beliefs derive. Day after day we are exposed to people and ideas who influence our thinking. We pick and choose from the many philosophies that are presented to us. None of us are born being hateful or racist. Babies are as innocent as anyone might ever be. They love unconditionally. They are sweet and pure. Those of us who are parents, teachers, friends place our marks on a growing child until one day an adult emerges with a set of values that are an amalgam of many experiences.

I am not and have ever been an exact duplicate of my parents in the way that I see the world because I not only heard their thinking but also that of others who impressed me with their wisdom. I weighed what I heard with what I already knew and either accepted or rejected ideas. Thus it is with everyone which makes each of us a kind of change maker even when we may not even realize that we are making a difference in someone’s mind.

Little things affect us. For example I had a broken chair and I set about attempting to find someone to repair it. One person suggested that I simply purchase a new chair from him all for the low price of $375. Another took the time to track down the original manufacturer of the broken chair and in the process learned that it had a lifetime warranty. All I would have to pay to make it like new again was $20 for shipping. The first man was highly refined and worked in a prestigious store. The second man was decorated with tattoos and appeared to be less than elegant. Nonetheless he was the one who most impressed me and taught me once again to never judge a book by its cover. His honesty was inspiring and when I purchase two more chairs which I have long intended to do, I will buy them from him rather than the man who had little time or patience with my dilemma.

My simple encounter with the two men reinforced a particular way of thinking in my mind. It reminded me that character is something that can’t be measured by outward appearances, something that I learned long ago when I was still a fairly young bride. I was living in an apartment project when I met a woman from New York state who cussed like a sailor and trotted around barefooted most of the time with a cigarette dangling from her lips. She had a rather colorful background and was not like most of the people that I had previously known. I was fascinated with her and made an effort to get to know her better. I learned that she had a generous heart and she was a gifted artist. I know that some of my friends and relatives wondered why I hung out with such a seemingly rough person but they did not know her like I did. She was literally someone who would have done anything for someone for whom she cared. She taught me to have the courage to be myself and to think out of the box. She also showed me how to love and support my friends and family.

I have picked up nuances from many people all along the road of my life. My friend Pat opened up my eyes to the world and pushed me to enjoy experiences that I had never even imagined. To this day many of the routines that I follow come from the things that she taught me. Most importantly she demonstrated the importance of always putting people before things. Her door was always open to me whether I called ahead or simply dropped in for a chat. She would sit me down at her table and brew some tea and then give me her undivided attention.

I have another friend who is a real life Heloise. I can ask her how to do or fix anything and she has an answer. Her knowledge is encyclopedic and even includes having recipes at her fingertips. I often tell her that she should write a book or a blog. She has a very small income and still manages to live large with her ability to transform virtually anything from broken to a treasure. I can’t tell you how many times her homey advice has saved me from an expensive repair or parting with something that I love.

I have enjoyed listening to political discussions since I was a child. My relatives were rarely in lockstep with each other so I heard many different philosophies and have found pearls of wisdom in all of them which has turned me into a very independent voter who has never been tied to a single party or individual. Most people have difficulty deciding how to classify me because I don’t fit into any category.

I was raised in the Catholic Church and that upbringing had a profound effect on me but I do not believe every single teaching that I have heard. I have to politely disagree with admonitions against contraception, homosexuality and in vitro fertilization. I seriously can’t see Jesus worrying about such things given His tendency to repeat His commandments of love as the proper way to live. I suspect that my thinking was heavily influenced by liberal priests who focused more on how to treat people than worrying about judgements. As a result I am comfortable thinking for myself while still adhering to a faith in God and His role in my life.

I have no doubt that I behave and think the way I do because of millions of interactions with thousands of people, some of whom I don’t even consciously recall. All along the way I was cataloging the things that I liked and discarding what didn’t seem to fit my comfort level. I remember a humorous moment when my mother noted that she didn’t raise me the way I actually turned out. She was referring to my tendency to use rather colorful language when I am upset and I reassured her that indeed I had never heard such words from her.

Long ago I visited Chicago with my parents. While we were there I saw African Americans dining and co-mingling with whites, something that I had never observed in then segregated Houston. It struck me even at the age of seven that the people of Chicago were right and those in Houston were wrong. I even confronted my parents on this issue. It made me angry when they didn’t take my concerns seriously and only reinforced my belief that we must one day live together in harmony rather than in separate parts of town. I’m not sure from whence came my ability to think for myself but there it was.

I suppose the point that I am attempting to deliver is that we are quietly influencing others all of the time. They remember our kindnesses and our hurts. They hang on to our wisdom or shun our ignorance. We are molding others with the way that we behave toward them. It is not a purposeful thing, just something that happens in our everyday interactions. For that reason we should all be more careful of the impressions that we are making. Our children are learning more from what we do than what we say. If we want healthy happy individuals to evolve from their youth then we must act the way we want them to be.