By Carol Lucas
There are times when I wish I had something really joyful and enlightening to write about. I mean that sincerely.
As I sat musing Saturday evening, nothing but the state of the world seemed to make inroads through my mind. The loss of Robert Mueller at 81 years of age hit close to home since I will hopefully see 84 next month. I was unaware that he had Parkinson’s Disease for years. Nor did I know that he was a decorated veteran of the Vietnam War.
Of course, there was 47’s classless response to this, proclaiming his happiness at Mueller’s death. Without fail, we are forced to ask ourselves just how low our so-called leader can go. I have asked so many times that I have come to the conclusion the answer is “obviously, there are no constraints.”
Certainly, I could take off on that topic, but why bother? Those of you who agree will continue to do so, and those of you who still support this morally bereft person, regardless of what he does, will continue to find excuses. Never the twain shall meet, as Rudyard Kipling stated. But I digress.
So back to writing, hopefully something non-controversial, happy even.
Then it hit me. I had spent some time on Facebook answering friends and keeping up with their first world problems. There I ran across an article that talked about an educational program in Iowa, stressing hands-on instruction; it showed a young man mowing a lawn for a senior citizen. This was how he earned his physical education credit.
The memories came rushing back to me like a full-blown tsunami. The last 12 years of my career, I taught three English classes in the morning and coordinated a community service learning program in the afternoon.
Our school board mandated that students must accrue 120 hours of community service over their four years in high school as a graduation requirement. My job was finding placements within the community that kids could easily access. In addition, I created in-school projects in which they might participate and gain hours.
Of course there was parental outcry, especially from those of the so-called “gifted” students, cries regarding the oxymoron of mandated volunteerism. I sat with them and suggested that they might want to think ahead as to how colleges would view this on their child’s application. With that, the program received grudging approval.
On that note, a side story is appropriate. One student returned from his freshman orientation at WVU to tell me they had been told they had to complete 15 hours of service. My kiddo started to laugh aloud; the presenter looked at him and said, “You think this is funny?” The boy stood and told the entire auditorium what he had completed in high school, and with that the speaker told him to stop by after the presentation, that he wanted to hear more.
Because this is my “happy article,” I must tell you about a couple of projects that became annual events in our school.
The first is the Senior Citizens’ Prom. Initially, maybe 10 kids signed up. Committees were created: one group approached the cafeteria and worked with the staff regarding dinner before the dance. Another group went to local florists for donations of corsages and boutonnieres. A third worked to find a 40s band, and all stayed after school to decorate the gym the night of the dance.
Kids who enrolled knew that, barring illness, they had to attend the dance. Attend, they did and dance, they did … with the seniors. Soon the attendees were showing the kids their dance steps. Pure delight. And yes, dear reader, I danced with my kids.
As a postscript, the next year’s volunteers doubled. Furthermore, one woman came to me and said, “I will never complain about my school taxes again.”
By the time I retired, we had more than 100 seniors come to “their” prom.
The second project of note was the Teddy Bear Holiday. This eventually took on a life of its own.
I contacted an association dealing with children taken from abusive homes. At first I thought perhaps this might involve 10 to 15 kids. When I learned that the number was closer to 30, my heart sank. How were we going to accommodate that?
Silly me! Never doubt the enthusiasm, not to mention pure grit, of kids with a mission. The student committee suggested we make it a school-wide project and approach all the extra-curricular clubs. The requirement was a teddy bear and a Christmas gift for each child. The “kind” of bear they brought soon bowled me over.
The football team brought a bear with a helmet. The French Club contributed a bear wearing a beret. The band attached a horn to their bear. One bear with a tennis racket. The gauntlet had been laid.
The day of the assembly to present all we had collected was one for the books. The committee chose who would “host” the program. As the name of each participating group was called, a member would bring the bear and the gift to the stage. All with the roaring approval of the packed auditorium.
I might add there were more than I in tears as I sat wearing a sweatshirt my husband had given me that morning. The shirt had a picture of a teddy bear, and embroidered beneath was “Mama Bear.”
Extra note: The kids brought the bears to my classroom after school the day before the assembly. Each occupied a desk, and the custodian (with a straight face) said, “I see you are teaching a class after school.”
You see, I can write about happiness. I just have to dig into the past.
Carol Lucas is a retired high school teacher and a Lady’s Island resident. She is the author of the recently published “A Breath Away: One Woman’s Journey Through Widowhood.”