Random Acts of Kindness

Random Acts of Kindness Blogfest May 27-31, 2013

A teacher gives so much, almost everything inside the brain and heart.  That is what I always believed, always did.  I arrived at school an hour and a half before the required time to make certain that the day’s preparation was just right.  I stayed two hours after school to review student work and make adjustments for the next day.  

Every day for years, this was my work ethic.

Then, one day I received an irate letter from a father who ripped me apart.  

He had found typos in an assignment I had copied from a professionally produced  book of black-line masters.  He did not appreciate the topic being pursued and wanted to adjust it to his superior understanding.  He thought his child needed more explanation and monitoring—by discussing each lesson taught and assignment given, after the rest of the class had been dismissed.  

The letter, written in small font, covered a full page.

My entire being sagged in defeat, taking my heart and brain with it.  I left after school, numb and confused.  Was there more I could have done?

Flashing forward-- I tightened up my checking-for-typos, adjusted my explanations of all assignments, and double checking everything.  It didn't change that father, but it changed me.  For better?  I didn't know.  

 MANY years later, I received a card from the parents of another student.  

While going through old videos, they discovered a video of their son’s reading and speech presentations recorded that same school year.  They expressed their thanks and appreciation for giving their son such a wonderful year, for teaching him.

They will never know how much this act of kindness meant to me.  I could tell them “Thanks!” but that would be inadequate.

I still have the letter and read it occasionally.  And I praise God for these parents who gave me more than they could ever know.

Source: ChIandra4U

Wednesday Words

Today is Monday, November 05, 2012, the day before the Presidential Election. 

This has been like a long pregnancy when the mother-to-be is two weeks overdue.  A friend of mine experienced that with her first child.  She became so distressed and overwrought that she decided she would be pregnant forever.  Her husband came home to discover her dismantling the crib and packing away baby clothes. 

Oh, she had the baby a day or so later.  She was an extremely intelligent woman with a PhD in English.  But, there comes a time…

These are my Wednesday Words for my November 7, 2012 post,  words that have been batted around until they are shredded and weary:

Slump       Triumphant      March      Defeat    Direction

                                                Dust

The last word “Dust” has been used before, I realize.  But I am surrounded by dust in my dusty house.  Since the dust doesn’t leave despite my efforts, it will be included in another post.

Them that has...

Back in April, I helped Bright Eyes and Sunshine plant some tomato plants.  Honestly, I thought those plants didn’t stand a chance in the whole of God’s green Earth.  But, dang it, those eight plants are loaded with red and green tomatoes.

Such promises!

So simple, a child could do it!

I, on the other hand, bought a “Topsy-Turvy” tomato planter, and prided myself on the choice of an ‘Heirloom’ tomato plant, expecting a massive overload of tomatoes every day.

Ha! Ha! Ha!  My tomatoes!

So very nummy!

Ha, I say.  Ha.  I have had maybe ten tiny cherry tomatoes, but the rest of the plant is empty.  It did not help that I discover one of those tomato caterpillar worms chomping away at it. 

It did not help that the sun wasn’t adequate, since we could hang the thing in only one spot, which gets sun from 2 to 8 p.m.  It also has not helped that I got fed up with the care it needed.

Art mimics life.

With my granddaughters’ plants, the tomatoes sit happily in sun all day, get lots of water (the girls love to use the hose, any excuse will do), and had less expectations.

The girls love to take me out to see their plants, loaded nearly to maximum with lovely big tomatoes (Marion and Big Boy brands).  “Here, Grandma.  You can have some.  We have plenty,” they say to me.  I tried to show them how wonderful it is to wash the tomato off at the hose, and then eat the tomato warm from the garden, just like an apple.

All I got from them was, “Oh, we really don’t like tomatoes unless Mommy cuts them up in a salad.  Take all you want.”

Why don't I get any tomatoes?!

This weekend I will go and buy a flat of tomatoes, a cheap planter like I gave them, and set those things out.  Dang it.  I may even get some tomato food and a natural worm repellant.  I will get some tomatoes eventually.

So it is true, that old saying:  Them that has don’t care.  Them that don’t, care.  I have no idea where that gem came from, but it wasn’t from me.