My Teachers: Ms. Cummings

When I think of Kindergarten, two things immediately come to mind:

 

1)  Nathan Cathy drawing all over my doll’s head.

2)  The fact that we didn’t get a book for every letter in the alphabet.

 

I remember a lot of other things from Kindergarten as well. I remember learning about St. Patrick’s Day. (I got pinched a lot that day…and thought it quite unfair because no one told me I was supposed to wear green.) I remember all the Disney songs we learned for our class play when we dressed as Mousketeers. I remember how proud I was to loose my first tooth. And I remember my first friend: Katie Lovett (now Hill – we still exchange Christmas cards!)

 

I attended Marshall County Elementary School in Lewisburg, TN. My teacher was Ms. Cummings. She seemed really old…and yet she wasn’t because I knew some of the other Kindergarten teachers were even older than her. Of course, in the eyes of a 5-year-old they were all practically ancient. She was always dressed very professionally: skirt, blouse, blazer, scarf, heels. I honestly cannot remember her ever wearing something more casual. I thought of her as a good teacher, but not really a fun one. Perhaps because we didn’t hatch eggs in an incubator (Mrs. Love’s class did that). Nor did we have tadpoles (I can’t remember whose class did that). We also didn’t get to wear crowns and a birthday sash on our birthday. (Mrs. Busler’s class did that, and my lucky sister Katey had her as a teacher three years later.) As a kid, I wanted a more fun teacher. As an adult, I get it. Incubators and tadpoles are a lot of work. And birthday crowns and sashes are unfair to kids who have summer birthdays.

 

As a teacher, Ms. Cummings fulfilled her responsibilities. Her class was in good ordered and I learned. I can’t remember precisely what I learned, but I remember writing on tablet paper as carefully as I could. I remember coloring shapes with my huge crayons. And I remember learning the alphabet. Well, I should say I remember what I didn’t learn about the alphabet. First of all, we didn’t learn it in order. Which really annoyed me. I know there is a science behind the order children are taught the alphabet, but it really bugged me in Kindergarten that we didn’t learn the alphabet A to Z. We got a little 6 x 6 pamphlet for each letter. I don’t remember what was in each, but probably a page to trace the letter, and pictures of words that start with that letter. I just remember that we didn’t get all of them. In order to “collect” all 26, you had to be held back and go to the “special Kindergarten” class the next year. Obviously, no one wanted to be in that class and yet I did want all the books. What was the use of having a set of books if you were lacking several? Especially when one of the ones lacking was the letter “M” which is a rather important letter when your name is Melissa Michele Sturm. Yes, I was OCD even in Kindergarten.

 

In conclusion, Ms. Cummings was a good teacher to start an education with. If anything, she didn’t fail to prepare me for first grade which is high praise when my first grade teacher would be Mrs. Steely.

 

Me in Kindergarten.

Bucket List

For someone who is a passionate list maker, it may surprise you that I don’t have a bucket list. Maybe I think I’m too young for that. Which is a really nice thought, however untruthful it may be. More likely I think of things I want to do as not the last things I will do. They’re just things I want to accomplish in my life, not simply do before I die. I suppose, in essence, that’s the same thing. It’s just different ways of looking at it.

 

The past fall my dad retired and one of the hobbies he has taken up in politics. It’s not a new “hobby”. Dad was part of the planning commission (or something like that) when I was very young and we lived in Texas. I remember going to political get-togethers with him as a child in Tennessee, and I remember handing out George H. W. Bush bumper stickers and flyers with him back in during the 1988 election. After that, we moved, more kids came, he travelled more with work, and politics fell to the wayside. Unless you count politicking in your own home. He was good at that. And why not? He was raising eight little voters, four times as many as most people bring into the world!

 

But now he’s got time on his hands and he’s back at it. It’s something he’s interested in and has always wanted to do. At his age, people might say it’s something on his bucket list. I think it’s just something he wants to do with his life. And it got me to thinking. What else do I want to do with my life?

 

In the midst of raising three kids, homeschooling, working part time, serving at church, keeping a house, and all the others things I pile on; it would be easy to say I’m good right now. The only problem is, it really bugs me to just go on with my life as if I have nothing left to achieve until I’m 60 and the kids are finally grown. The very idea drives me insane. I don’t want to live like that. I want to achieve something. Not President of the United States, but something. Three somethings.

 

First, I’d really like a home. Not a place to rent. A place I can call our own. A place to paint the walls however I want. A place to unpack allmy books. A place where the kids can grow up…and then come home to. If I’m honest, except for eight years of my life, it’s always something I’ve wanted. Something I’ve never really had. And, right now, something that just seems like it’s on hold. Again. And again. And again. Not a lot I can do about that now except pray. So I do.

 

Second, I want to be a writer. I think I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was eleven years old and put pen to paper in scribbling my first story about a bunch of girls who started a cheerleading squad. A silly story, but from that moment on I was rarely found not scribbling something during some part of the day…until life as an adult start catching up with me in my thirties. Then I got married. Then I had kids. And now I can barely keep up a blog. But I sometimes think of the stories I want to write in the few seconds of consciousness between putting my book down and sleeping. And the other day after a trip to the library as I lugged a bag overflowing with books into our car, even Ed turned to me and said, “Why don’t you just write books?” Words I thought I’d never hear him say because even though he knows I like to write, he’s never read a sentence of anything I have written and probably never will. And for the first time in years, I started really thinking about it…

 

And finally, join the Daughters of the American Revolution. I think I’ve wanted to do this ever since I found out I had relatives who fought in the Revolution and even started looking at it when I was in my late 20s. But I didn’t follow through for one reason or another and tabled it, almost not thinking about it again until a Christmas letter a couple of years ago from a family we knew in Pittsburgh. I hadn’t known she was a member of DAR, and it got me thinking. But with one thing or another, I didn’t follow through. Until the thought suddenly hit me again last week…and today as I was waiting for my laptop to save some graphic-heavy proposal to my work server, I opened up their website. Filled out an interest form. And then got several emails from the local chapter before the night was over. That settled it. I’m gathering my information and meeting with one of the women on Saturday to figure it all out. I’m finally going to do it. I’m gong to join DAR!

I still don’t have a bucket list. I doubt I ever will. The things above are things I just want to do with my life. Because that’s what God gives us a life for: to live. For Him. And after that eternity. Isn’t that a wonderful thought? 

Dear Emry,

 

Today is your 7^thbirthday! Seven years old…I will probably say this every year, but where have those years gone?

 

This past year of your life has had its ups and downs, as all years will. I just think you have been more aware of them. For you are a very intuitive little girl. You are starting to understand your own personality and the personalities of those around you. Sometimes you do quite well with the uniqueness God has given each person…but other times you just aren’t sure how to respond. Except to go play by yourself. You don’t play by yourself quite as much as I did (yet), but as much as you love being around people, you also like your space when life overwhelms you.

 

This past year you have been a B-bopper again, for which I’m very proud. You enjoy your dance class and are faithful in your practicing, but you’re also realizing there is a lot out there to try. So along with another year of soccer, you have tried acro. Now you want to try tennis. And art class. And maybe gymnastics. Perhaps basketball. Maybe softball. You’re at the age where you’re willing to try anything, and that’s a great age! Who knows what you may settle on, but I hope you’ll always want to try new things.

 

You have your own little group of friends now, mostly the two in the neighborhood who can be great…and not so great. As all groups of little girls can be. But you’ve also struggled with your friends, especially those who are so different than you. You’re not always sure how to respond to bubbly, or emotional, or overly bossy. You tend to be serious and take things at face value. (Pragmatic, your dance teacher called you.) But by and large, I have been proud of how you’ve dealt with the conflict friends can often present in your life. You are kind to those who need help, and equitable when in conflict. Learning to be a friend is a lifelong lesson, and I hope you will continue to learn it well.

 

This year also meant you were in Sparks at church, and I was glad to be in the class with you. You loved the lessons and were passionate in your Scripture memory. I am grateful you are not like your know-it-all-mother at your age who always knew everything about the lessons at church and wasn’t afraid to say so. You listen, and you think, and you ask questions. You aren’t yet sure of your faith in Christ and often tell me, “Mama, I don’t know if I trust Jesus. I mean, I do trust Jesus, but I don’t know if I trust Him enough.” Little girl, if I could give you faith I would. But I am grateful you don’t presume upon your faith. You don’t think you have it just because you know it all, or because your parents have it. I am grateful God has given you the understanding that faith is something that grows, and something that is personal. And I am praying God gives you that gift of faith.   

 

Emry, I am more and more thankful for your seven years with us and pray you will have decades more. God blessed us with your little life – a blessing far beyond words. So, happy birthday, little girl!

 

All my love,

Mama

My Teachers: Part 1

Sometimes in the mornings when I’m working through school books with Emry and Ethan I am reminded of my days in school. Having been in a public school from Kindergarten through 3^rdgrade and a private school in 4^thgrade, my earlier education looked different than my children’s as they plow through their daily work in Emry’s bedroom while Ellyson sees how much she can get into in the first three hours of her day. But there are other things that are not very different. After all, the alphabet hasn’t changed, and nor have the sounds of the letters. Numbers are the same no matter what you call “borrowing” when it comes to subtraction. And even though the world wants you to think so, pronouns haven’t changed either. They’ve just become much more vitally important than they were when I was memorizing them in 4^thgrade. But like myself, Emry doesn’t struggle with pronouns. We flew through those lessons!

 

Sometimes I think of my old teachers. Or of my old classrooms. Or of the kids I recall going to school with, because some were very memorable. I wasn’t the kid who got in trouble (although in 1^stgrade…well, Mrs. Steely didn’t let anything slip and I had disobeyed…), and nor did I find school especially exciting. I can’t say I found it boring, either, although I had teachers I preferred over others. Sometimes it’s hard to remember those days – it was over 35 years ago! – but other times I have very clear memories of some things. And they often make me laugh. Maybe because some of them are so very me…even though I hardly knew it when I was five.

 

Memories are things I often want to write down. I don’t know if my kids will care one way or the other one day (although Emry always loves to hear stories from when I was a girl), but I like to think they’ll find my memories interesting…albeit very old. So, I’m going to do a brief blogging series on my old teachers and classrooms. Those are pivotal days in one’s life, whether you care to acknowledge that fact or not. Especially 1^stgrade. First grade changed my life!