Respectful Generations: Part 2

Happily, the first grade students were coloring a heart outline red, but my teacher didn't approve of my haphazard red crayon strokes. She proceeded to pick up another student's heart to show how we should color in the same direction within the lines of the drawing. A little 6-year old's artistic inclinations squashed; I began to question my attempts. On another day, I made jewelery out of buttons and thread and brought them to school for "show and tell". Proudly, I displayed my creations on a desk near the front of the classroom.  My peers seemed to like my jewelery and I felt happy.  I don't recall if the teacher liked them. What is embedded in my memory is the swat on the bottom admonishing me for not going straight to my seat after lunch, when all I was doing was admiring my little button jewels on the table by the door.

Children and adults alike are so very different than they were in 1958. A teacher's pupils are not as apt to be coloring in the classroom or showcasing homemade jewelery during "show and tell" because in 2011 teachers find it hard to schedule such free time. The first grade teacher, while not as attentive to my feelings as she might have been, garnered our respect. My first inclination, with bruised feelings, was not to lash out at my teacher hurling accusations that she was mean. On the contrary, my thoughts were to do a better job of coloring in the lines and to obey her words, returning to my desk, without talking back. Since my retirement five years ago, my experience while substitute teaching, is that some children do not understand the meaning of talking back. Angry children wanting not to be disciplined, will continue to talk back when I've repeatedly told them not to talk back. A concept that has sadly gone away in the realm of parenting should in my opinion be taught to children today. Although, their parents would do good to learn the concept first.


Many children of economic letdown are too often left alone at home with disconnected fathers and mothers who did not learn the skill of good parenting. Their parents are tired from the business of keeping a job, working long hours, putting food on the table and if they have to, will steal to get it. The next generation of their families followed the example of their parents. Those are the people filling up our jails, teaching their children by example to disrespect authority. Teachers are no longer revered role models. They are an authority not to be taken seriously or to give a respectful ear to their heeding. The misguided minds of the children is wreaking havoc on their learning process. When students who do not understand academic concepts on a test, they rebel against taking the test and expect teachers to give them assistance. The children will pout, scowl, talk back and even walk out of the classroom because they are mad. They are angry because they didn't know how to learn their subjects and their parents didn't know how to help them. Now they are such a disruption in the classrooms, teachers must remove them in order to keep the rest of the class on task.


The two stories of contrasting decades.  They do not say 1958 was better or worse than 2011.  In some ways, the teachers of 1958 were not as forgiving and loving as they should have been. Their public reprimand or correction was not always the best way to deal with the situation.  Although, many of the children knew a better way to take disappointment, correction, instruction without being rude or disrespectful to persons in authority. My point is blurry as to what exactly my message is in these stories. It is apparent that somewhere a ball was dropped and children for generations have suffered for the fumble. May heaven help us to correct our children in loving kindness and teach them Jesus' way of reacting to other people in this world. This should be our prayer and action for the future of our children and grandchildren to come.

Respectful Generations: Part 1

On a cool breezy October day, a couple of six-year-old kids went out to play on the school playground with the rest of their first grade class. The little girl with her blond braids bouncing off her shoulders, walked obediently in the straight line like a toy soldier. The autumn breezes were reason to wear her navy blue sweater to school that day. Happily, she watched the student in front of her while the boy behind her laughed and flipped her braids the whole way out to the playground. The old school building's playground was across the street. The teacher watched carefully as each child moved to the other side of the road. The quiet street of the small town was unlikely to have many passing cars at 10:00 in the morning. Just in case though, the young teacher watched her brood like a mother duck leading her little ducklings to the pond.

Mary and John ran squealing with delight onto the playground as their classmates raced to the swings and slide. One by one, they climbed the tall ladder of the slide and swiftly glided to the bottom running around to ascend the ladder once again.

The leaves blew about the playground and John yelled, "Tag! You're it!" and punched Mary in her arm. Mary laughed and turned to chase John across the playground. Within moments, other friends joined in the game teasing Mary to tag them as they ran away with squeals of delight.

On one side of the playground stood an old two-story gray building used by the six grade students for band lessons. The tall gray structure made an excellent place to pull up behind hanging out to observe from a distance before rejoining the game. John was hiding behind the band building as Mary ran by. He reached out grabbing her navy blue sweater. Mary, laughed yelling "Tag!". Then, before running, John gave her cheek a brisk smack then ran so Mary would chase him again. Children of innocence, thinking nothing of the other one's kiss, ran squealing like piglets in a game of Tag.

As Mary, John and all their friends ran noisily past the teacher on the other side of the building, they heard the teacher blow her whistle. "Girls play with girls, boys play with boys. Now, go on!". Reluctantly, the boys and girls separated not understanding why the teacher broke up their play. They did not have to know their teacher's reasons, they only had to obey her directions.

Innocent children, running, chasing, yelling "Tag! You're it!" on a cool autumn day. As adults we still feel the cool breeze, but fail to recapture those carefree days when our play was innocent fun. Sometimes we don't remember the feeling of excitedly running so hard on a cold day that our lungs feel as though they will burst. Then, well-meaning adults for whatever reason, tells us to stop and the rules of life begin to fill our minds with negative ideas.  The well adjusted child has a parent or guardian in their lives who lovingly explain the rules of life, obeying authority and the purposes of each. Sadly, some children grow up always taking orders, and never having a loving adult explain why there are rules. They never learn the good that can come from rules or the way to dispute a rule should they think it unfair. Those children grow up to be angry, bitter adults fighting authority in their school, at work and in life. They don't accept authority in a healthy manner. Their carefree days of childhood took place without parents who taught them how to cope in everyday life. They grew up to pass down their anger to their children.

Oh, What a Glorious Morning!

The birds are barely singing this morning because they are lazily sleeping late. If not for the occasional chirp in the trees, one would not know birds were on the scene. This crisp sunny autumn day illuminates my backyard with a living glow. The green has begun to come back to the cheeks of nature dried out by the summer drought. The clouds have spilled just enough H₂O to wake up blades of grass and the leaves of bushes.  Still, Earth cries for more like a hungry baby wanting its mother's milk.

The summer heat wave sent most of us inside for the refrigerated air and caused us to swoon at the mere mention of work outdoors.  Today, however, is another day and the cool breezes are beaconing all humans to come outside.  While I desire to work outside the mellow sounds of the neighborhood are pushing me back to my chair to listen.

My two cat-kids, the older one female, the younger one male, are roaming outside amid the plants looking for an unaware lizard. I often find myself on a rescue mission of mercy to some poor lizard captured and set down in the unfamiliar surroundings of my home. Homer, the male hunter-cat, enjoys a good safari when the weather out is so tempting. Capturing an unsuspecting prey is great sport to him and he enjoys sharing the fruits of the hunt with his female counterpart, Baby. Although, one might think he kills his prey, it is my observation that he simply watches the chameleons as entertainment.  This morning, I glanced up from the monitor to observe both cats sitting, hunched down on the carpet, staring intently at the bathroom floor. It was in that moment I knew I had to do what has become routine in these situations. It was time to catch and release their live toy back to the wilds of my backyard. So, with napkin in hand I picked up the bewildered half green, half black reptile and set him free for another cat hunt at another time.

The loveliness, that is a mid-morning in suburbia, is delightful and carefree to those of us fortunate enough to be at home on a weekday where we can soak it in. One can sit and brush away the cares of finances, school loans, house maintenance and a laundry list of other such concerns including the household laundry. Silently, I type, read and sip coffee as the moving breeze carries distant sounds from a nearby schoolyard to the open patio door invading my statuary. Images of junior high boys suited in their school-issued shorts on a football field dance across the screen of my mind. Quickly, I return to my writing ignoring the interruption of the outside world of reality.

Oh, that this glorious morning could forever continue to be my days. Yet, it is not to be for soon I must be at the work of preparing used items for sale, sweeping my house, washing my clothes, feeding the people and animals that live here and finding my place in the outside workforce. Although, it is not with regret that I carry out my chores. I do them willingly because they are the tasks God gave me for today. Although, for now, I will drink in another sip of solitude like smooth chocolate sliding down my throat, warming the inner chill of brisk autumn mornings and I will be content in it.

Looking for Jobs in All the Wrong Places

When the TRS counselor informed me four years ago that  I had the magic numbers to retire, my heart leaped with joy. After many discussions with my husband, Kim, we both concluded that for this to work out financially, I would have to find another job to supplement my TRS pay.  Little did I realize just how difficult that would be.

The first year of my retirement was the 2007-2008 school year.  It was a sense of elated freedom washing over me the morning I observed cars hurriedly streaming down the road by my house the first day of school.  My last three years of teaching was in our neighborhood school just three blocks from our house. Instead of running on pure adrenaline that Fall morning of 2007, I was sipping coffee and wondering what would be my next venture in this life.

The first year of my retirement would prove to be the best year I had spent in a long time, and since.  My husband teaches theater arts on a 9th grade campus in a nearby town. It was a joy to join him at his school to stage a production of Our Town. My free time also allowed me to help Kim direct a play at the Baytown Little Theater. It was the previous summer of 2007 that a car crashed into our beloved theater facility.  The crash caused major damage to the building and we had to move our production venue to a nearby church building.  I painted set pieces, decorating chairs and backdrops with stenciling and created set decoration for Neil Simon's,The Good Doctor. The theater volunteer work was only part of what I had fun accomplishing that first year of retirement. My job search was for the most part non-existent.

The following year I soon had to go to work teaching reading tutorials twice a week back at the school I had worked before. It was pretty satisfying work and good pay for only 2 hours a week. Although, a little bit of pay, it was not near enough to supplement my TRS check. By the time the following school year came around, our budget was in dire need of supplements to bulk up bill-paying power.

The fall of 2008 I began working with the University of Houston, Clear Lake as an intern supervisor.  I loved my work with the senior student teachers. My experience as a teacher in addition to my Master's Degree was finally paying off. The interns were a pleasure to work with as I observed their excited energy to become the best teachers they could. The two-course pay was a nice supplement to my TRS paycheck.  I thought I could do this forever, not realizing the summers were going to tax our budget once again.

I'd never worked during the summer months in my life. The thought of working while Kim was off during the months we normally vacationed made me depressed. Mostly, I did nothing to find a summer job. I didn't want to work in the summer. The spring semester as the university supervisor met with university problems. Budget cuts within the university, resulted in the US course load to be cut back from 2 courses to one course. That pay cut was significant and I decided to try to work with the school district again. The  substitute teaching jobs was sparse. I gave tests for the Gifted and Talented program which paid the best and I continue to test with that program whenever possible. However, Texas Retirement System rules make it almost impossible to work for two TRS institutes at one time. Tracking my work hours was tedious and stressful to say the least. The following fall semester of 2009 would be the last semester I worked for the university.  If it had not been for testing GT students that spring, I might not have made much money at all.

Eventually, a friend suggested a tax preparation service she knew needed extra help for tax season.  By January of 2009, I had a full time job working for a tax and financial service. The work environment was the perfect place for me. The all female staff immediately made me feel at home. My boss, a former school teacher, understood my work ethic and knew I was more than capable of the job at hand. Working with the clients, getting to know my coworkers that winter/spring was a joy. While it barely paid what was needed to supplement my TRS pay, I was happy to be working there. However, by the time tax season was closing, it appeared that the job would not be needed next season. Client involvement dropped significantly causing my position to disappear the next tax season and I was out of the perfect job.

Back to the job drawing board and I grew depressed by the bills piling up. Also, disheartening has been the lack of vacations we can take and the amount of general home improvements needed to our home. The summer and winter testing for GT students has helped my income along with a two month long term sub job last fall. However, as I pursued job possibilities, it became apparent to me that I was never going to get enough money to supplemental my TRS pay. Teachers may not make the salary of a good doctor or lawyer, but they sure make better than minimum wage.

Last February, the same friend who suggested that I work for the tax office, called me again. This time she wanted me to help her daughter with their family self storage business. There had been health problems in their family and the business ledgers were in need of updating. I was hired to work part time at minimum wage to help bring their bookkeeping up do to date. Making just enough money to buy weekly groceries, I was able to accomplish the immediate need in a couple of months. Initially a temporary position, I have now been working 8 months with the self storage business. The hours are great and my boss is very flexible about time off. The bad news is at only $8.00 an hour, the pay is not near enough for our needs and my friend is not in the position to pay more. Though the job is better than no job, and I certainly appreciate friends who look out for my job needs; I must once again search for permanent employment. My maturity as a responsible employee should aide the search, but not if an opportunity to interview doesn't come along.

It's my feeling that I'm going about this job hunt all wrong, but to tell the truth, I wish so much that I didn't need to work. My best days are the ones in which I don't have to show up at a job. My job of balancing out the books with the storage business has been pretty good. My favorite, the tax office job, was the best but unfortunately, played out. Teaching interns about being a school teacher allowed my professional experience and opinions to be put to the test.  It made me feel like my 30 years had been for the purpose of sharing the fruits of my labor with others and I liked that feeling. Unfortunately, a change in department directors, in addition to budget cuts, caused this to be a less than perfect position for me. The GT testing for the school district is a very nice gig with good pay. I look forward to the self motivated work with the students. Unfortunately, it is a seasonal short-term job and can't supplement TRS enough to make a difference.

The daily prayer for my days is that God will lead me to His plan. That is, His perfect plan, for my husband and I with what we are supposed to be about. God, as Lord of all, knows where the perfect job is for me. The job is out there somewhere waiting for me to find it. Job hunting at this stage of life is a pain! I am praying that the next job will be satisfying and one that fixes our budget woes that will provide year-round income until my next retirement.

Part-time at $20.00 an hour would be great. I'm just saying!