Remembering Barbara Bush

It's been a while, blog.  I haven't really forgotten you, but I haven't felt the urge to write in some time!  I wish I could be like the diarists of old who each day took the time to write even a few lines.  Historians of our time will have a tougher time navigating the reams of paper that we will leave in digital form on Facebook, twitter, and instagram.  

And, then over the weekend I watched the funeral of Barbara Bush and read the many eulogies of her as wife of one president and mother of another.  The most moving tribute was a piece in the New York Times explaining that at her core she was a mother.  Jon Meacham, the historian and Bush family friend, called her the mother of the greatest generation and perhaps she was.

I am attracted to her story because in many ways it draws me back to my own past, my parents who were shaped by the Second World War and the 1950s that followed.  I am the same age as one of the Bush children, Neil, younger than George W. and even Jeb (which surprised me).  As a woman of her time, Barbara Bush inspires me.  Maybe it was her not so skinny size, her "I'll be damned if I color my hair", her outspoken (at times) advice to her large and I'm sure sometimes difficult family, her love of swimming, her passion for literacy, her sass, her style, her compassion.  She seems more real to me than some of the other first ladies.  Nancy Reagan, so distant, Rosalyn Carter, so southern and Baptist, Melania Trump, so foreign and wealthy, Michelle Obama, so smart and savvy.  Barbara Bush was someone that I could relate too.  She had that rarest of things, a strong political marriage that survived the death of an infant daughter and the raucous contest that is Texas politics.  She didn't much like to cook and from what I can gather, she wasn't so good at it either.  But, she seemed human somehow.  She was wealthy, yes.  She had a certain style.  She came from east coast money (at least some) and she married well.  But, what I most liked about her is that she felt comfortable, or so it seems to me, in her own skin.  She knew who she was and why she was.  As I commented on Facebook, she showed up and made a difference for good.  She's a worthy role model and one of my heroines in a world that desperately needs them.  Rest in peace, Barbara.  We've got this and your work, although not done, is in the hands of others, myself included.  We are ready for the challenge.  Would that we all make as much difference as I believe you did.

Post Election Reflection

Like many Americans, I woke today with a heavy and troubled heart.  Our newly elected President represents for me much of what is worst about our people and culture.  We have no guide but his own words and they are troubling.  Building a wall, banning refugees, attacking a Gold Star mother, making fun of women.....these are things that candidate Trump did because they played well with his base audience, primarily white men who have found themselves caught up in a world that is rapidly changing and that they feel is leaving them behind. (For historical reference this happened in the 1920s and it gave rise to the revival of the KKK and the worse features of fundamentalist Protestantism (Scopes Monkey Trial) and a resurgence of nativism. )  Now president elect, he has to find a way to be the leader of all of us and I'm not sure he is tempermentally suited or intellectually prepared for the task.  But, we are stuck with him.  And, so what to do?  I cheered myself with the fact that like all Americans, I got up and went to work as I do every day.  I posted some hopeful, optimistic thoughts and took comfort from the words of faith and courage that others posted.  But, I am fundamentally saddened and it may take more than a few weeks, days, months and much reflection before I can move from sadness to action.  I can protect the children entrusted to my care and do everything I can to dispel the ideas that Trump seems to embody, that it is all right to bully those less fortunate or strong than you, that it is all right to appeal to the worst in our character and not our best, that it is all right to fear those who are different from you. For my own sanity, I think I will try and walk more, cook more, knit more, read more history (it gives me great comfort); and, later, when I am a little less sad and more emboldened, I will find a way to help those less fortunate than myself.  I will remain engaged in politics and encourage our best and brightest minds to do so as well.  I will smile and hope and love and greet all I meet with enthusiasm and grace.  Tomorrow, because St. Paul had it wrong....love, faith and hope abound and the greatest of these (for me) is hope.  

Another New Years' Day

Welcome, 2016.  The year began quietly but sadly.  I learned that my former professor, and later, good friend, Jack Dudey, died on January 1st.  I had not known that he was sick since I had not talked with him in several months.  Over the years, he would call with his characteristic "bark".  I always knew who was on the other end.  His death ends a chapter for me in some ways.  Jack was my advisor at William Woods, someone who helped through more than one crisis of faith as an undergraduate.  I still remember a particularly difficult day as a student teacher.  I called Jack at his office and he told me he was going to be home after school, changing the oil.  I stopped by and sobbed while he changed the oil in his driveway.  After I had related my sad tale of teaching middle school students, Jack rolled out from under the car and said, "there, do you feel better?'  And, in fact I did.  Then, there was the day in February as a first year teacher.  It was President's Day, I had the day off, I was teaching at Camdenton High School, living at home, and thoroughly miserable.  I spent the day in Jack's office where he listened and suggested that perhaps I should go back to school.  That summer I enrolled in a reading specialist program at MU, but when I didn't enjoy that either, Jack suggested a talk with then head of the geography department, Jesse Wheeler.  That conversation changed my life and introduced me to a discipline that has shaped the way in which I see the world.  Over the years, I would call Jack whenever I had questions or moments of doubt.  He was unfailingly supportive and encouraging.  With him I could talk about anything, from what behavior was "normal" for toddlers to whether it really was a good idea to become a principal at age 60.  Jack was a good friend and a terrific listener, someone with whom you could be yourself, however mysterious and allusive that "self" remained.  I regret that I didn't see him or talk with him these past few months.  Rest in peace, teacher, friend, mentor, advisor.  A poem for you by John Schlatter.

I am a Teacher

I was born the first moment that a question leaped from the mouth of a child.
I have been many people in many places.
I am Socrates exciting the youth of Athens to discover new idea through the use of questions.
I am Anne Sullivan tapping out the secrets of the universe into the outstretched hand of Helen Keller.
I am Aesop and Hans Christian Andersen revealing truth through countless stories.
The names of those who have practiced my profession ring like a hall of fame for humanity.
Booker T. Washginton, Buddha, Confucius, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Leo Buscaglia, Moses, and Jesus.
I am also those whose names and faces have long been forgotten but whoses lessons and character will always be remembered in the accomplishments of their students.
I am the most fortunate of all who labor.
A doctor is allowed to usher life into the word in one magic moment.  I am allowed to see that life reborn each day with new questions, ideas, and friendships.
An architect knows that if he builds with care, his strucutre may stand for centuries.
A teacher knows that if he builds with love and truth what he builds will last forever.
I am a warrior, daily doing bagttle against peer pressure, negativity, fear, conformity, prejudice, ignorance and apathy......

A New Chapter

Today, it finally hit me...my life is about to dramatically change.  I'll still be doing what I love, working with kids and teachers, but I will be doing it with far younger students, Pre K-8, with new families, in a new setting, St. John LaLande parish.  The people there have been so welcoming and gracious and I am excited to begin, mostly.  I was able to move in a few things to my new office and as I drove home, I was struck by the finality of my last few days at OHS.  I have been there SO long that I know every nook and cranny of the school.  I can barely find the restroom at SJL.  I will SO miss the people that I've come to know and love.  They, for so many reasons, are a part of my extended family.  I rarely get to see my brothers and their families, so the OHS faculty have become my other family.  They literally served as second parents for my kids; they nourished my faith; they supported me when I needed help and cheered my successes.  They cannot be replaced and I don't intend to do so.  I plan to see them often.   It will take a bit more work to keep up with Jane, if only I could convince her to sub for me occasionally.  And, so life goes on.  It's a marvelous, wonderful journey that I'm on and I plan to enjoy every moment of my new world.

Turning Points

As I near the end of my thirty-one years at Archbishop O'Hara as a teacher and administrator, I have been thinking about turning points...those moments in life when as Robert Frost relates, "two paths diverged in a sunny woods..."  For me, there are some significant turning points....

Choosing William Woods...
Leaving my job at Camdenton to begin a Masters in geography at Mizzou....
Leaving my job as an adjunct at Mizzou to take a job as an admissions rep at Rockhurst...
Leaving that job to do graduate school at KU...
Leaving grad school to take a job at OHara....
Getting married at age 30.....
Having babies.....
Being offered a job in Liberty and turning it down when Sarah was 5 and Matthew just a baby....
Moving to Lees Summit....
Becoming the counselor when Lisa quit and Jane was in the hospital......
Moving to the administrative team.....
Deciding to get a second Masters.....
Leaving OHS....

I often wondered what would have happened had I chosen different options?   I would likely be still very much a teacher....married, perhaps....a mom I hope....ah, life is a complicated journey, filled with bends and twists...

Lasts and Firsts

It's been a sad, mad, crazy, glad weekend. Our last child, Matthew, graduated from Rockhurst University. All of our kids had the advantage of a LaSallian education in high school and a Jesuit education in college. I always tell people....it's the best combination...Lasallians for your heart...Jesuits for your head. It was my last OHS graduation as a teacher and administrator and I'm not afraid to say that I cried more than once today. Looking back over my 31 years at OHara...it's been a life shaping, life enriching, terrific journey. I've worked with the best people anywhere...Jane, my partner and compatriot; John, my student, my colleague, my boss; Walter, an inspirational leader who always saw the big picture and Stuart who always remembered the little things; Larry, an authentic gentleman in an age that's forgotten what that means and a loyal, compassionate friend; Margaret whose passion for education is still inspiring. Melissa, the rookie who grew into a terrific teacher and represents all that is good about OHara; Mary, whose passion for OHS enriches our students; Bob, my social studies sidekick; Pete Williams, still one of the most intelligent, compassionate women that I know; Lori,the younger sister I never had; Debbie, still one of my closest friends, Denise, whose honesty and friendship never fail; Lisa,who for years has kept me organized with love and affection; George, whose LaSallian spirit is an example for all of us; Br. Chuck. Br. Richard, Br. Chris, who taught me what it means to be LaSallian; Nancy and Steve, whose dedication knows no bounds; Kathy Duggan, whose passion for life inspires me; Anne Roth, who invited me to be a part of her family and for which I am forever grateful; Terry Downs who shared not one but two jobs with me; Jerry and Cathy Meyer who taught me more about courage and faith than I could learn in a lifetime... And there are so many others...I know I've forgotten several people who touched my heart and life...and those who are gone but not forgotten..Anne Hennon, Marge Wempe, Jimmy Johnson, Marvin Tucker. And students...so many terrific kids who have grown into compassionate, faithful men and women, some with families of their own. I hope I played some small role in their learning and faith journey; they certainly taught me so many lessons...the importance of community and faith...the values of zeal, patience, persistence and determination....the joy in victory and sadness in defeat...the humility in success and the determination in failure...OHara helped me raise my kids, nurtured my soul, grounded my faith and made work truly a labor of love.

Things we might be able to live without

For no particular reason, I started thinking today about things the world could easily do without...stuff that we just don't need, stuff that adds no beauty or grace or peace to our troubled planet. So, what are these things we can live without? Tattoos for starters. Really? Who needs a tattoo? They are expensive and painful and although there are some tattoo artists who are truly gifted, wouldn't they be better serving the community if they painted church windows or billboards or almost any other thing? Aspartame. Seriously. My best friend's science students tell me it's awful stuff. It causes headaches and maybe cancer. Diet Soda drinkers...try water. Chihuahuas. I love dogs. I do. And my Maltese is the epitome of a high strung barking dog. But chihuahuas? They are ugly and mean. And, so, what else? Mosquitos. Except as food for hungry purple martins, what good are they? Maybe they're God's way of reminding us that He's in charge, but seriously. They spread disease. And are annoying. Breast implants. Really. Seriously. The world does not need them. Women are beautiful...with small boobs or large. Stop trying to fix what's not wrong. Let's let plastic surgeons worry about cleft palettes and burn victims. Cup A. Rejoice.