Monthly Archives: April 2016

When mommas fail, but schools don’t

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Last week, we had a really rough morning.  It was not my finest moment as a momma.  My youngest whose normal routine for getting ready for school can best be described in one word – poky – was trying to rush us all out the door.  Even when the stakes are high, she is never in a hurry to get all she needs to have accomplished before it is time to leave.  This particular morning was different, she and her best friend wanted to arrive at school early because they wanted to be ready for the state tests.  (Honestly, in all my years as a teacher, I have never heard of anyone who was excited to take the state standardized tests. Hats off to their Language Arts teacher!)

Unfortunately the best laid plans of mice and enthusiastic test takers often go awry. Our entire house overslept.  I’m not sure how four people could sleep through four different alarms, but it happened.  Needless to say, we did not start out on a great note.  By the time, we finally loaded into the truck, I was leaving without packing a lunch and felt under-prepared for a day of inspiring young college students.  I realized I had forgotten something critically important and went back to get it.  In an effort to be helpful, Sally grabbed my bag off the driver’s seat and placed it in her lap, not realizing that she knocked over the glass of sweet tea I had precariously sat inside the bag. When I returned, every item I had in the bag was covered in two inches of liquid.

Because I had electronics in the bag, I couldn’t just leave the mess for later.  I stormed into the house, dumped the whole bag into the empty sink and tried to salvage as much as I could.  By the time we left, I had one girl in tears and another on the verge because her friend was hurting, and I was trying my very best to give them both a pep talk about how they were going to rock this test.  No one in that vehicle believed the speech – including me.  As we stopped in the carpool lane, I tried one last ditch effort to no avail, and watched in the rear view mirror as my littlest sobbed walking up the sidewalk to the school.

After quick trip home to recover what could be saved,  I made a tough decision.  Even if I was late to work that day, I was going to the school to hug my girl and to tell her I loved her.

marshall middle school

Upon my arrival in the office, the administrative support person was delivering the daily announcements.  I listened intently.  The last announcement left me with more tears than I already had experienced that morning.  My sweet carpool girls had already told me about the significance of the day, but in our haste to get out the door, I didn’t ask too many questions.

The final announcement explained that a sweet young boy,  a former student who passed away from a mitochondrial disorder the year before, would have been 13 years old that day.  Students were asked to wear green (in support of those affected by mitochondrial disorders) and for a one dollar donation to the UMDF foundation  students could wear hats in school for the day.  This was all fine and dandy but it was what happened at the end of the news that made me incredibly thankful for the Pledge of Allegiance to regain my composure.

At the conclusion, the sweet lady announced that after a small countdown, they (the entire school) would be collectively wishing Alex a very “Happy Birthday!”

3 – 2 – 1 – “Happy Birthday Alex!” was loudly and cheerfully echoed from every hall and every corridor.  As the momma of a child who died at a similar age as Alex, my heart was breaking for his parents.  I was also so sad that they probably didn’t get to hear this amazing support for their son.  I was never so incredibly proud of a school that did not fail the memory of this young man, especially since due to his condition many of those well wishing voices perhaps never had the pleasure of interacting with him. 

Looking back now, alarms not alerting and spilled tea might have been a bigger part of God’s plan for me to realize a few ruined papers and one crazy morning are not the ruin of a day. He gently set me straight with an amazing reminder for us to celebrate – not just after loss – but in the small magical moments of the ordinary, because it is in the little stuff that the BIG stuff really matters.

And rest assured. When my little girl came down to the office, I hugged her even closer while thanking God I got the joy of sharing in Alex’s big moment with her. 

To learn more about mitochondrial disease and to support families like Alex’s, please visit:  http://www.umdf.org/site/c.8qKOJ0MvF7LUG/b.7929671/k.BDF0/Home.htm

Special note:  It has been a while since I have given this reminder, but make sure to hug your children today.

 

We’ll tell you when you’re older

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Even though I know the outcome of their fateful decision, there are times when I identify with Adam and Eve. I am wired in such a way that the quest for knowledge is an insatiable thirst. When a new thought or idea crosses my mind, I study relentlessly to learn more. There are very few things which I allow to stand in the way of learning.

This hasn’t always been the case only my obstacle had nothing to do with me or my efforts. It was entirely my parents’ faults.

Growing up in the South, my life was a pretty insulated one. Whenever there was something that adults thought was too much knowledge too soon or something they didn’t want to disrupt our childhood innocence was met with a definitive, “We’ll tell you when you are older”. In my early elementary years, I would just shrug it off and not press much farther, trying not to think too much more about the forbidden knowledge. Although many times my wonderings often led to a dramatic and exhausted utterance of the phrase I would grow to despise.

little me

How could they resist not answering my pint-sized version of adorable curious-minds-want-to-know? In their defense, my nature was to ask questions, longing to understand anything and everything. I am certain I wore them down with curiosity.

As I grew a bit older, their resolve was steeled, but little did they know so was mine. They held the key to a vast library of knowledge to which I wanted access. I vowed I would remember all those questions to which my only answer was the annoying “we’ll tell you when you are older”. Unfortunately, my determination was no match for my curiosity and inevitably, there would be some other fascinating thing which would capture my attention and off I would go learning everything I could about my new interest.

They didn’t use their pat answer during my high school or college years, because, frankly, I think they knew I was on to them. They just wanted to keep us little forever. It was either that or they are information scrooges. If you’ve met my parents, take your pick.

If I had been smarter during all those years living at home, I should have pinpointed an exact date, age, or time when I would be deemed old enough to know all this forbidden knowledge. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? I have been waiting years for all those answers to which my parents are the self-appointed gatekeepers.

Visions of “nobody sees the Wizard” have been swirling around in my imagination for decades.

Apparently, the answer to how long one must wait to be old enough is about forty years. Just this weekend, I was doing some fact checking from my kindergarten days for my upcoming book. I sent a benign text to my mom asking about our first puppy. She must have been feeling incredibly generous or perhaps it was the lateness of the hour that caused her to let her guard down. Either way, the stingy knowledge keeper let slip a piece of the story I never knew.

AHA! Knowledge is mine . . . sayeth the child.

I am tickled to know that I’m finally old enough to know the once unallowable answers.  Now if I can only remember all those questions!