Out Loud

From the beginning, it’s been my intention to post to The Classroom of Life on a weekly basis. I had been going strong through the first four weeks. I’d find a couple of hours on the weekend or on Monday evening to sit down at the computer and write, but then life got in the way (or rather, a ridiculous two-day headache and then the birth of my niece, Lorelai, happened on consecutive weekends and threw off my writing schedule). Fortunately, the past couple of weeks have given me a chance to come up with some ideas for posts that I’ll roll out over the coming weeks and months.

I’ve also decided to start posting some of the classic quotes that come from my current crop of second graders as they happen throughout each week. For example, one of my students mentioned last week that his birthday is coming up in February (Can it really be considered “coming up” if it’s still four months away?). Then a girl who talks kind of slowly and with a hint of a southern drawl (even though she’s not from the south) said, “I wish my birthday was December 25th ‘cause then it’d be the same as God’s.” I just smiled and admired her wish.

I’m sure I’ll use some of the quotes again as illustrations. However, there will be sayings and stories that I find worth sharing that may never wind up as an illustration in a longer post. So by posting them as they happen, they won’t be left untold just because they don’t fit with the theme of something bigger that I’m trying to say.

Anyway, after saying all of that, I wish I had a new piece of writing to throw at you. The truth is, I haven’t had any time this weekend with which to sit down and write. Instead, the weekend was dedicated to going through my grandparents’ home in order to divide up some of their belongings and get it ready to sell. It’s worth noting for those who don’t already know: My grandmother passed away in July, and my granddad has since moved from their home in Kearney, NE to an assisted living facility in my hometown of Cozad, NE. At some point in the future, I imagine I will dig a little deeper into some of the lessons I learned from my grandparents. The two of them have impacted my life in such a way that I could write an entire book about them. But for now, I’m going to offer up the speech I gave at Grandma’s funeral this summer.

Before you read it, you may need to know a few things (I’m talking to you, international readers!). I’ve added titles in parentheses that will help with understanding the names mentioned in the writing. Also, the final paragraph mentions two family members that left us all too soon, my aunt, Mary, and my father, Bruce. So you can be in on the inside joke, the mention of a swift kick in the fanny is in reference to a threat my dad was famous for. It was his way of letting us kids know in a joking manner who was the boss, as if we really needed a reminder.

Without further ado, here’s what I wrote to honor one of the most spectacular individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around:

Grandma Hunt

When a person lives to be 89-years old, they come to be known by many different names. For Betty Jo Hunt, she became known as: Jo, Mrs. Hunt, Mother, Great-Grandmother. I had the honor of calling her Grandma.

Grandma made the most of her 89 years of life. I won’t be able to cover everything in the time I have in front of you today. It is my hope that all of you will join us for lunch afterwards and take that opportunity to share your thoughts and stories of Grandma with one another.

Over the years, one of my favorite stories about Grandma and Granddad was about how they first met. They were both majoring in business administration at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Granddad recalls sitting in a Bus. Law class of about 90 students, and he fondly remembers a certain female that would walk by him each day on the way to her seat down in front of him. He likes to recall the way she would swing her hips as she walked past him. He was convinced that he just had to meet this young gal. Not long passed before one day, Granddad spotted Grandma in the student union talking to a couple of other girls. Fortunately for Granddad, he was friends with one of the girls Grandma was talking to. Once he realized that, the light bulb went off in his head and he thought to himself, “I’m gonna get me an introduction!”

When it came time to get married, Grandma and Granddad chose a Methodist church on South Street in Lincoln. It wasn’t a big ceremony, but both of their mothers were able to make it, along with a few of their friends. They didn’t have a car at the time, so they had their wedding early enough in the day in order to catch a bus and then a train to Kansas City for a 3-day honeymoon.

In the first few years of marriage, Grandma and Granddad lived in 13 small towns. Granddad was the crafty businessman, doing anything from running dry cleaning routes around south central Nebraska to selling fireworks. And Grandma was always by his side supporting each business venture. Eventually, Grandma and Granddad moved to Cozad and purchased Hart Cleaners. They renamed it Hunt Cleaners and became a staple of the Cozad business community until they retired and moved to Kearney.

The success of their business allowed Grandma and Granddad the luxury of traveling the world. They took numerous trips throughout their marriage. Often times they would travel with friends or family. Their travels took them all over the U.S., to China twice, and to Europe five times. Grandma recently spoke fondly of their trips to Europe, including one with (my cousins) Dana and Annette while Dana was studying at Oxford and also another time when they visited France, Germany, and Austria with (Aunt) Annie and (Uncle) Don.

When thinking of words to describe Grandma, the first to come to mind is caring. She was always looking out for other people. Whether it was raising three daughters as well as any mother ever has, coloring with the grandkids and great-grandkids, giving the granddaughters dresses at Christmastime, or making sure there were cookies and ice cream in the house for guests, Grandma was always caring for other people. My brother, Mike, and cousin, Becky, remember the time they spent with grandparents while attending UNK. They both spent time at grandparents’ hanging out and doing laundry. Mike also remembers the added incentive he had for attending church with Grandma and Granddad. Anytime he went to church with them, he knew he could look forward to going out to eat with them at Grandpa’s Steakhouse afterward. He enjoyed it enough that once he transferred to Hastings College, he and his future wife, Jenn, would make the trip to Kearney for church and lunch at Grandpa’s every so often.

Along the lines of being caring, Grandma was also a bit of a worrier. This was evident one Sunday in church when Granddad stood up during a time to share joys and concerns with the congregation. Dana and James (her husband) had just found out that they were expecting triplets. So Granddad stood up and said, “Well, I’ve got a joy, and Jo has a concern, and they’re the same thing!”

Grandma was also extremely proud of her family. She regularly attended sporting events, musical performances, plays, weddings, and graduations. If it involved family, she was there.

Grandma enjoyed nothing more than the time she spent with her 10 great-grandkids. She was so proud of the fact that she shared a birthday with the oldest of the great-grandkids, Caleb. As our family has grown over the years, family gatherings have grown more and more chaotic…and far more entertaining. Grandma was always thrilled to have the great-grandkids over. Recently, as Grandma’s health declined, she had to have in-home care. One day, she and a caregiver got to talking about the great-grandkids, and in particular my niece, Greta, and Grandma made the comment, “If you haven’t met Greta, you haven’t lived.”

One part of Grandma that would sometimes go unnoticed was just how smart she really was. She was quick-witted and had a great sense of humor. She wasn’t the type of person who wanted to be the center of attention, but if you listened closely, she had some great one-liners. For instance, Grandma and Granddad were at our house for a visit once, and a few of us were gathered in the kitchen talking. Holly (my sister), a member of the high school dance team at the time, was practicing a routine in the middle of the kitchen. For those of you who know Holly, I’m sure this is hard to imagine. Anyway, as Holly was dancing and spinning around the room, Grandma leaned over to me and joked, “Is that girl havin’ a seizure?”

As Grandma’s time was winding down, she never lost her quick wit and sense of humor. Not long ago as I was sitting with Grandma and Granddad, Granddad began telling a story I’ve heard him tell a number of times. He was boasting about how my brother, Bobby, won a competition for the longest drive at a golf tournament a few years ago. As Granddad began the story, Grandma kind of smirked and said, “I’m sure you’ve heard this one a few times.” Granddad continued the story, and as with most good stories, the details weren’t quite the same as the last time the story had been told. When Granddad finished the story, Grandma just smiled and said to me, “It gets better every time.”

Grandma lived an incredible life. A life devoted to her family and faith. A life full of great stories and memories. A life of love.

Jonathan Foreman says, “If it doesn’t break your heart, it isn’t love.” The last six months have been a heartbreaking realization of just how much we all loved Grandma, and how much she loved us.

In closing, I’d just like to say, “Grandma, you were one of a kind. We’re all better for having had you in our lives. Please give Mary Lee a hug and a kiss for us, and give my dad a swift kick in the fanny. We love you. We’ll miss you. Rest in peace.”

The Pursuit of Misery

In order for a TV show, movie, or book to be deemed great, there has to be character development. Without fascinating character development, the TV show "Lost" would not have captured people's attention like it did. Fans of the show were drawn to the evolution of the show's characters. Sure, there were the unprecedented special effects for a TV show, mystery and intrigue surrounding the island, and the storytelling that always seemed to conjure up more questions than answers. But at the heart of the show were the characters-Jack, Locke, Kate, Hurley, and everyone else. The reason "Lost" wound up with such an obsessive fan base was because its fans became attached to the characters, and they stayed attached to the characters because of the evolution of each one as the show progressed over the course of its six seasons.

Character development has been on my mind ever since I read Donald Miller's book, A Million Miles In a Thousand Years, at the end of last year. In the book, Miller chronicles his journey towards discovering what makes a story captivating. He sort of stumbles into exploring the elements of story when he's approached by two filmmakers who want to turn his first book, a memoir titled Blue Like Jazz, into a movie. Upon beginning work on the movie's story arc, he realizes that his actual life isn't nearly interesting enough to be made into a movie. Some editing was going to have to be done.

From that point on, the book is an incredible read about living your life in a way that, if there was an audience watching it as a movie, they would invest into the story being told and actually care about its outcome.

(I don't want to simply regurgitate Miller's book. My cliffs notes version wouldn't do it justice. If you're looking to read something that might change your life...other than this blog, of course...check out A Million Miles. I've read it twice, and I'll read it again.)

When watching a show like "Lost" or reading a book like A Million Miles, it becomes clear that character development doesn’t come easily. A character has to be faced with conflict, a struggle, something that is going to cause the character to do something. The same is true in real life. We grow the most when we’re forced to. Our own character development doesn’t just happen on its own. Sometimes what causes us to grow is beyond our control (a tragedy, sickness, etc), and other times it’s the choices we make that create an opportunity for us to be challenged.

As I wrote about in the first post on this blog, I made a conscious decision to usher change into my life when I accepted a teaching position with Omaha Public Schools. So far, it would be an understatement to say that the new job has been overwhelming. I’ve been working longer hours than ever before, dealing with issues I’ve never faced in the classroom, and struggling to maintain my sanity during recess-less afternoons (which is something I may have to write about in the future). But I’m not here to complain. After all, the job situation is something I brought upon myself. Instead, I’d like to relay what I’m being reminded of as I work through the challenges that have come along with the new job.

One morning last week, I woke up with thoughts racing through my head about everything I needed to accomplish at work that day. I had papers to grade, forms to fill out, parents to call, lesson plans to complete, and the list went on. With my mind already busy with work, I got ready for the day and began walking down the stairs of my apartment building on the way to my car. I opened the door to the outside and was unexpectedly hit with a moment of clarity. As I stepped outside, the thoughts that had been racing around my head quickly disappeared and were replaced with the phrase, “Keep your eyes on the big picture.” Depending on your beliefs, you may or may not agree with me, but it felt as if God was speaking directly to me. I’m not saying it was spoken with a loud, booming baritone of a voice. The words actually sounded like they were spoken by myself. But I sensed that God felt the need to draw my focus away from all of the details of the day, offer a chance to relax, and remind me of the end result.

If I allow myself to be consumed solely with teaching and everything I have to get done, I’ll be defeated by it all. The stress and the pressure will eventually be too much to handle, and I’ll wind up burned out and disappointed with the move to OPS.

As I turned my attention to the big picture, I began to realize that come May, I’m not going to remember all of the specific tasks that were consuming my first few weeks with OPS. Instead, I hope to see a distinct change in who I am. I hope to find I’m a more effective teacher. I hope to be able to say that I’m better off for having taken the job at Franklin. I hope to be able to say that I’m actually doing something about the poverty and suffering present in the city I call home.

Now, let’s pretend for a brief moment that my life was being made into a movie. One of the scenes that might not make the final cut, but would at least be on the blooper reel that runs during the credits, would be an incident that involved a girl from my first year of teaching and a pencil eraser. You see, she had stuck her pencil up her nose (for what reason, I'm not sure, but I have a guess), and the eraser from the end of her pencil had gotten lodged up her right nostril.

Once the girl realized what had happened, she ran up to my desk in a panic. Tears were beginning to form as she tried to explain to me what was wrong. As I did my best to repress my urge to laugh, I placed my hand on her shoulder and told her to relax.

My first attempt didn’t do much to calm her worries, so I again tried assuring her that it would all be okay and that she just needed to relax so we could try to figure out how to get the eraser out of her nose. With each passing second, the girl was becoming more and more panicked. As soon as I began my second attempt at assuring her everything would be okay, she sneezed and the eraser came flying out of her nose! Once she saw the eraser lying on the floor, she burst into laughter and so did I.

The moral of the story: Don’t panic when you (life) stick an eraser (chaos of a new job) up your nose. In the end, you (the developed character) will sneeze, laugh, and live to tell about it.