Beech Tree News Network

Yesterday, I spent the better part of an hour trying to make a cut-out snowflake the way my fifth grade teacher, Ms. Anderson, taught me.  My granddaughter wanted one, and after several failed attempts, I went online and found a tutorial on YouTube that jogged my memory enough that I was able to pull one off.  The project reminded me just how many pieces of information I possess that I can credit to a teacher.
    Do you know the difference between a Queen Anne chair and a Hepplewhite chair?  I do, and it’s not because I’m smarter than you are.  My home economics teacher, Ms. Lily, taught me the difference while we were looking through a furniture book together.  She also taught me how to hide an accidental cut to the hem of a shift dress I was making with rickrack.  I’m not sure either of those pieces of information was included in the curriculum she was given at the beginning of the school year.
    My sixth grade teacher, Ms. Lutz, taught me all about Currier and Ives.   She brought a Christmas card made from one of their popular lithographs to school one morning in order to teach us who the famous printmakers were.  When I hear the Christmas song, “Sleigh Ride,” and the lyrics say, “It’ll nearly be like a picture print like Currier and Ives,” I know the song is referring to two printmakers living during the 1800s, who produced lithographs from famous paintings that were later used on Christmas cards.
    Those three teachers taught me those things because they were allowed to.  They and I lived during an educational era in which nobody thought the world would end if they strayed a bit from the curriculum.  I’m not a teacher, but my sister was, as well as many of my friends, and it saddens me to see the straight-jacket-like course today’s teachers have to follow.  Teachers are individuals, and they have unique experiences and information they could pass on to students, were they allowed to do so.
I understand there are standards to which students must attain, but I believe small diversions can serve to keep students academically awake and better their education in the long run.
    I have continued to carry my teachers’ teach-all-you-can attitude with me throughout my life.  I gave my children all of the information I could impart.  Sometimes they would roll their eyes at me; other times, they would appreciate the knowledge.  My youngest daughter, Nikki, had a college professor, who would include bonus questions on tests that covered current events.  Nikki would call me once a week to find out who the top news makers were at the time.  When I visited her in New Orleans recently, I was pleased to notice she keeps her car radio tuned to NPR.
    It drives my oldest daughter, Natalie, crazy when I make the effort to give information to my granddaughter, Sabria; especially if it’s information she uses against her mother.  My husband, Garey, often takes Sabria to McDonald’s for breakfast on his day off.  One morning, Sabria decided she would stay at the house with me and let her PaPa use the drive-through and bring the food back to her.  About ten minutes after he left, she was crying because she hadn’t gone with him.
    “I want to go with PaPa!” she wailed.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, “But you missed your opportunity.”
    “What’s opportunity?” she asked.
    I explained what opportunity meant, and didn’t think any more about it till her mom got home that night.  Natalie came into the living room, where Sabria and I were playing a princess matching card game, and said, “Come on, baby, you need a bath.”
Without missing a beat, Sabria said, “Mama, I want to miss this opportunity to take a bath.”
    I have also been called out with information I supplied the little know-it-all.  I taught her to read speed limit signs posted on the side of highways and how to correlate those to the actual speed showing on my speedometer.   One morning during a trip to Bowling Green, she informed me, from the back seat, that I was going over the speed limit.  I looked at my speedometer, and sure enough, I was.  I adjusted my speed accordingly. 
    Okay, so maybe she doesn’t need to know everything.