When I was a young self-absorbed adolescent, I recall my sister Ann Marie sitting with our mom in our apartment in Pittsburgh. Dad had left for good, and we had moved from the home we rented on Old Clairton Road down to the apartment building on East Bruceton. During the day Mom worked at various jobs to pay the rent, but at night my sister, ever dutiful and selfless, sat with our mother and studied. If I ever thought about it I would have presumed Mom was helping Ann Marie, though AM was not usually one to need help with schoolwork. What was actually happening was my sister, 18 months older than me, was tutoring our mother.
Mom’s mom had died when she was young, leaving her adolescent daughter to move from place to place, living with older siblings until she dropped out of school, married at seventeen and finally had a place to call her own. Seven children later and left to fend for herself again, only this time with a brood of little chicks in tow, she set to work earning meager wages. I was oblivious to pretty much everything but my own tiny world, but when Dad and any support from him was gone, Mom decided it was time to get her high school GED. Ann Marie sat with her nightly, helping her study English and history. Our brother George pitched in as well, tutoring her in science and math. You would think that a family, wounded and inward facing, would have some sort of celebration when the mail brought the results of her test back to her, but I don’t even remember hearing about it. Mom tucked her accomplishment under her belt and went back to work, with a breath of confidence pumped into her chest. Eventually mom earned her Graduate Realtors degree and became a top selling agent in the Pittsburgh region. She provided well for all of us after our father abandoned ship, but also taught us to be responsible for ourselves.
Mom had a dream of being a lawyer. She had the intelligence and the mindset, that way of analyzing thought that I understand now as perfectly suited for interpreting law. If she were to have had the same circumstances today, where support and encouragement for the education of single mothers is available, I have no doubt she would have died with additional initials after her name.
While I did not grow up in a home where she was constantly asking if my homework was finished, there was always an underlying current that knowledge was power, and we were stewards over ourselves. She let it be known that education was the great Facilitator.
We have a blurry little polaroid photo from the day when Mom had flown from Pittsburgh to Utah for our BYU graduation events. In the photo mom is standing with her graduate kids on the lawn outside the Marriot Center at BYU. Dave had earned his Juris Doctorate from the law school, Ann Marie had earned her Masters in Audiology, George had earned his Bachelors in Chemical Engineering and I had earned my Associates in Communication. I had hand stitched a tiny black robe and hat for our new baby, John, so he could match his parents. Mom stood in the center of us all, a spark of color amid a sea of black. I think this was a button popping moment for our mom, though she didn’t make a boisterous fuss about it. Instead, it was one of those “of course” moments, where she was proud, but not surprised.
This week is National Educators Appreciation week. I appreciate these public reminders to pause and think about the effects of various influencers in our lives. I think this week about my own teachers, and those who educated and nurtured my children, and now my grandchildren. I allow myself to ponder who I might be if I had had no one besides my own family educate me. I am indebted to all my advisors and teachers who gave me a broad sweeping look at the world and beyond.
Every one of my mother’s living grandchildren has a college degree. Every one. Mom would be thrilled by that. Not that she doesn’t understand the value of the school-of-life as opposed to formal education. She would just be pleased that her descendants walk the walk of those who value education.
In my morning ponderings today I thought of my own kids and realized, probably for the first time, that all of them are not only educated, they are educators themselves. Yes, they teach and nurture and train in informal ways, but they have also made the decision to enter the system our communities have set up to nurture and train all of society.
John is an adjunct professor at the BYU Marriot School where he teaches and mentors in Event Management.
Sarah, as a Pediatrician with the University of Utah, mentors through the U of U School of Medicine, teaching residents one-on-one.
Kate, while currently earning her doctoral degree, teaches for Brock University in Ontario Canada. She began a teaching career with Teach for America. She taught and mentored underprivileged adolescents in Houston Texas for years before beginning her doctoral studies.
Annie, with her Masters in Speech Language Pathology, is masterful at teaching young children from elementary through high school how to find their words.
And my daughter- in-love, Ashley, married to John, is earning her master’s degree in youth counseling while teaching second grade at the elementary school our own children attended years ago.
There you go, Mom. Your kids value learning. These are the kids you used to pay to memorize poetry. They honor you with their lives.
Here’s to the teachers and the learners: those who emit and those who absorb. We are all both.
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Last week we visited our Kate in New York, where she lives while earning her doctorate just over the border in Canada (when the borders are not closed due to a pandemic!) While unpacking when we arrived, I shook out Dave's judicial robe to hang in the closet. Because court is held virtually these days, Dave is able to work remotely. Kate's desk became Dave's courtroom while we were there. When I was hanging his robe I noticed the tag, just below where they had stitched his initials, had a label indicating "Academic Choir Apparel". Dave's still into black graduation gowns. |
