~and I did what I was supposed to do~

Times have changed.  I could see it in the photo that I came across last evening.  It was of a young teacher from long, long ago.  A small handful of students sat beside her on the bleachers of the elementary school gym.  They represented a small portion of the classroom student population with the remaining 15 or so unable to take their photo for school as they honored their church's religious beliefs against the taking of photographs.  I looked at that young woman and smiled in my heart because I remembered her.

She was me.

I have taken lots of photos of my experiences in now,  the nearly last 4 decades in education. The older I have become, the more thankful I am to have these special remembrances of a time so very long ago past.  I have scarce few of them from my 16 years as a combination first-second grade teacher at Yoder Grade School but the precious ones that I was allowed to have are priceless in their value to me.

For some reason here lately, I have been thinking about all of the changes that I have seen since I first stepped into a classroom in August of 1979.  One of the interesting changes is how teachers may now dress.  I look at that photo and see myself in that outfit I was wearing.  It was actually handmade by a dear friend who used to sew for others in my hometown of Haven, Kansas.  I loved that skirt and the blouse that went with it.  Never had to even iron it.  Just wash, dry, and wear it.  It was a look that matched the decade of the 80's and probably wouldn't be worn by me again.  Yet even having said all of that, I could see myself wearing it again if that style comes back before I'm gone from the earth.

Although you can't see it from the picture, I had on my standard pantyhose and low heeled shoes.  I never went to school without wearing them but now I cannot even begin to tell you the last time I pulled on an uncomfortable pair of those things.  For the longest time teachers were only allowed to wear slacks on days when the temperatures were cold enough to warrant wearing them and it took forever and a day to be able to wear jeans on Fridays.  Now teachers can wear flip-flops, comfortable sneakers with their faded jeans, t-shirts, and a host of other things that many years ago were forbidden.

To be right honest I cannot tell you the last time I saw someone wearing nylons. 
And that's just fine with me.  
:)

I remember those dear children who are shown in the picture above and although I won't name them here, I could tell you their names just like that.  I figure over the past 39 years, I've been called "teacher" by close to 1,000 students or even more.  I would sadly admit that perhaps I will have forgotten a small handful of their names, but for the most part I still know my students and I hope that they would remember me.

Tomorrow is a new school day and when I walk into my classroom at Big Pasture, there will be 19 young people waiting for me to get there.  Even though they look nothing like the 8 children shown in the photo above, they are so very much like them.  There were fires in the bellies of the kids from long ago to learn as much as they could and the same fire can be found in the bellies of the children that I have now in the year 2016.

The young woman that I used to be never realized what would lie ahead.  The many changes, moves, life interruptions, tragedies, and triumphs that she would encounter were never, ever dreamt once by her.  She only saw one day at a time and that's just fine with me too.

If something were to happen and I could never walk into a classroom again, in my heart I would still feel very happy for the many, many days that I have been given.  When it is all said and done, I feel one thing quite strongly.

I did what I was supposed to do and the good Lord above blessed me.

This was the year I defied the photographer's order and went to the top row instead of the bottom row where all the other short kids were.  Hey, I was a kid once too you know.  See if you can find me.                          1968-1969, Haven Grade School, 8th grade class

~and now somehow it seems a little bit closer~

Mike and I just arrived home a bit ago from having lunch.  As we pulled into the driveway, I noticed a white package sitting on the flower box by the front door.  Since neither of us were expecting anything, we couldn't imagine what it might be.  It didn't take long to figure it out as I looked at the address label and saw the name of my dear friend Sylvia from back home in south central Kansas.  I knew what was inside.

 Sylvia and I grew up back in the same little town of Haven, Kansas where both of our fathers were good friends with one another.  They enjoyed drinking a cup of coffee together and trading stories at the front counter of our restaurant, Scott's Cafe, along the old highway there.  Les Gray was a fine man and his kids reflected that goodness in the way they behaved ever since, well.... ever since I knew them.  Sylvia knew I was looking for KU things for my students at Big Pasture and took it upon herself to go on the hunt for them.  I talked with her earlier this week, and she told me that something would be on the way towards our home here in north central Texas.  

Today it arrived.

When I first interviewed at Big Pasture Elementary this summer, my dear principal Diane showed me around the elementary building.  I could not help but to notice immediately that there were half a dozen or more college banners hanging from either ends of the hallway.  She told me that each of the classrooms adopted a university to promote throughout the course of the school year.  It was done so in the belief that all children, no matter who they are or what their individual circumstances might be, could have the hope of being college bound and ready. I hadn't even been offered the job yet, but I asked her if I were to get the position did it matter which university I chose.  She assured me that it didn't and so I chose KU.

Now, I've never taken one college class through KU.  My undergraduate degree is from a small Presbyterian school in Rice County, Kansas called Sterling College.  My master's degree is from a state university in Sedgwick County, Kansas called Wichita State University.  I have numerous hours from other colleges in Kansas and so choosing to honor KU this year was perhaps not the normal thing to do.  Yet when I sat down and thought about it, I realized that for me KU represents the state of Kansas in my heart more than any other school does. With no disrespect to any other fine Kansas institute of higher learning,  since I still consider myself a Kansan, I felt the most comfortable bringing along  KU with me.  

And so I did.

Now that we are well over 6 weeks into the school year, I have come to one conclusion.  For me, the lesson that I want my children to learn is not all about KU any longer, although it is wonderful to call them "our university" for this school year.  It's definitely not about how many KU things we can amass to promote our school spirit. 

What it is really about is this, and this only.

I want my boys and girls to know beyond the shadow of a doubt, that there are many good people out there.  They are people who are strangers to them, who know of their story and their desire to promote the Jayhawks during their 3rd grade school year.  Those strangers care about kids as much as their teacher does and will do anything they can to provide opportunities to learn and grow.  All of those good folks have given of their time, their treasure, and their talents.  Sylvia is one of many who have helped us along the way and not one single person has allowed us to pay back what they spent to help us.  My heart swells with joy. 

So for the dear and sweet people who have found KU shirts for my little ones as well as those who have helped us be "buddies" on our classroom Facebook page,  we are humbled.  Your acts of kindness are helping to shape the lives and strong character of children who live far away from you all.  It takes a village, truly it does, to raise up children these days.  Your help and support is so much appreciated by "the 19" and their teacher.

It's 435 miles from Randlett, Oklahoma  to Lawrence, Kansas.

Somehow the love of friends and family makes it seem a little closer than that.

With thanks to Rita, Sylvia, Gayle, and Lori for the shirts and KU things~

~and so I did~

I think I was feeling tired and worn out from the excitement of the past week.  It could have been that perhaps.  Maybe I was missing Kansas and the sister that I had to leave behind last weekend as she lay in her hospital bed in the CCU there in Wichita.  It might just have been one of those "teacher moments', not unlike those that I have from time to time.  For whatever it was, it happened as I sat at my desk while the kids were outside at recess and the weirdest thing came to pass.

My eyes began to leak.

I was looking at the picture, the one shown below, when it occurred.  It was of my kids all dressed up in the KU t-shirts that I had arranged to find for them.  I had several dear friends and family members back home in Kansas who knew that I was looking for them.  When I was back there this past weekend, I began to gather them up.

I don't how to explain it all, but I felt this overwhelming sense of pride in my students, my home state of Kansas, and the love of people that these little kids don't even know of yet.  Fine folks back there took it upon themselves to start the hunt for gently used and even some brand new KU t-shirts that might fit my kids.  Last night as I was gathering them all up, folding them and placing them into a laundry basket, I wondered if they might all work out ok.  It was a feeling not unlike the Biblical story of the feeding of the 5,000.  I was hoping I would have enough that truly fit the kids.  I need not have worried.

It all worked out.

I was glad no one walked in on me as I sat at that desk with tear filled eyes.  Thankful that I didn't have to explain why I was dabbing my eyes with a kleenex or the look on my face, one of undying love for 19 children who evidently needed me to come and be their teacher this year.  I never knew they existed before June of this past summer.  They never realized that I was here either.  One thing always remains for sure.

God has this way of working everything out.
He brought me to this place called the Big Pasture.  
It was meant for me to come here and when destiny calls,  I have learned that you really need to answer.
And so I did.

~990, their mother's words~

~990~

And so I guess that I never really figured I'd make it this far as I wrote the stories of my life on this blogging site.  Really, no kidding, I was going to write a dozen or so posts about my journey on the Bike Across Kansas in the summer of 2011.  That was it.  From start to finish, it would be no more than a month.  I never had the desire in the beginning to take it any further than just that.

Things changed.
They changed a great deal.

I thought that when I got to the 100th post that would probably be enough.  I mean for goodness sake, what more would there really be to write about?  Turns out there was plenty and then some.  I just hadn't realized where life would begin to take me at the time.  The years kept rolling by and May of 2011 turned into September of 2016.  

So here I am now.

If I write 10 more times, then I will make it to the 1,000th post of this blog site.  It seems kind of strange to even think that I have written as much as I have.  It's not really something that many people desire to do.  As for me, I can't imagine the last 5 years without it.  The ability to sit before the computer screen and type these words out loud has been my saving grace in many a stressful situation in the life of a Kansas farm girl.  Writing has been the best of medicines for me and given me a whole new understanding of myself.  That's a gift, my friends.

I've had this feeling for some time now that God was saving up the very best of my stories for the last 10 before that 1,000 mark.  Perhaps it is true.  No matter what lies ahead of me, be it bad or good, I will probably just keep writing about it.  Nothing that I have written is prize winning and that's a good thing because I never intended for it to be.  There was another reason that I chose to do this.  When it is all said and done, my blog posts will serve as a digital diary for my 3 children and their own children yet to come.  I won't be able to leave them thousands of dollars in the bank, that's for sure.  They grew up the children of a teacher.  They know better.  But through this blog site,  I can leave them something that might just be more valuable to them anyways.

~their mother's words~

Five of the earliest pictures that I posted on this site were these.  It was great run at the Bike Across Kansas in June of 2011.  I had never heard of Montrose, Colorado yet.  I didn't even know there was a place called Petrolia, Texas back then.  I surely didn't know that there was a great school called Big Pasture in Randlett, Oklahoma.  Life changed many, many times. Through it all, the good Lord watched over me.  He never left my side.

~and He calls them "the children"~

I came down with something Friday evening that carried over all day long Saturday and still is trying to hang on.  Some kind of upper respiratory stuff is going on around these parts and try as I might not to catch it, well I did anyways.  All day yesterday I stayed in bed, sleeping almost 12 hours before waking up this morning.  I'm better but this tickle in my throat and accompanying cough is going to drive me crazy sooner or later.  Tomorrow at school it should be very interesting.

I don't plan on saying very much, that's for sure.

Thankfully I have not run a temperature and more than likely this is just one of  those wonderful viruses that make their appearance from time to time.  Hopefully the worst of it will be over by the morning and except for a chance of coughing, I should do ok.  I happened to run into one of my families from school in the local supermarket a couple of hours ago, and I told them that I'd been sick with what many of the kids seem to have at Big Pasture.  The momma smiled and said something that made me feel a bit better.

"Well, that's what happens when you have a community!"
She was right.
It surely is.

Our third grade classroom at school is run on the concept of community, and in my heart I know that it is the best way for a class to be managed.  It took me a while to figure that out, but several years ago I did just that.  We share everything from our pencils and school supplies to our germs and disagreements.  We rejoice with those who have had success in their school work, and we encourage those who find themselves struggling from time to time.  We take care of each other, and stand beside one another in all things.  No one gets left behind.

That's what a community is all about.

Someone asked me once, a year or so back now, what was the best way to build a sense of belonging in a community within a classroom.  I always give the same answer to anyone who asks me, and the answer is this.

"The most important thing is this. You have to get to really know your kids and their families.  Are you willing to pay a home visit and meet families at their convenience instead of yours?  If not, then you have some work to do. You have be willing to think outside the box sometimes and not always follow a rigid schedule.  If something is happening and there are some concerns with children, you have to be willing to stop and address what ever it might be.  The best time to stop problems from happening is immediately when you see them starting.  I don't like to wait until after my lesson is over.  If it's important enough to take care of, then it's important enough to stop a lesson over.  I have done so many times. They call those "life lessons".  Kids must feel a part, an important part, of everything that goes on in the classroom.  In a community they take ownership and credit for that which happens, be it bad or good.  Equally important, and I really mean this, in a solid classroom community the kids see the teacher as a human being, and one who sometimes makes a mistake or two or even three during the course of a day. Parents know that you are approachable as well as a willing listener.  In a classroom community we don't always have to agree with one another, but we should be able to show respect and at least listen to one another."

So tomorrow I will head back to that little place I call my home for the school week.  I'll bust open a box of kleenex, keep my yucky old cough drops at my side, and let the children do most of the teaching.  They are perfectly capable of doing that, you know?  I'm thankful 99 percent of the time to be healthy and well.  I've been burning the candle at both ends lately and it's kind of not working out so well this weekend.  The same God who watches over a little girl named Peggy Ann while she is well is there watching over me while I am sick.  As if that was not enough, He arranged for some other little angels to help out.

And He calls them "The children".

He takes good care of me always, but especially when I am sick. Time for a bowl of his homemade chicken noodle soup and early to bed this evening.  Rest is what I'm ordering for myself tonight.

~and I love you Mrs. Renfro~

It's amazing how five little words can stop you in your tracks.  It's incredible how they can change your whole way of thinking.

I heard them from the far side of the room today.  At first, I thought I had misunderstood what was said as I asked them to be repeated.  Once I heard them the second time, I knew where they had come from.

"I love you Mrs. Renfro."

One of my students in our 3rd grade classroom must have sensed how tired I was today and perhaps how stressed out I was in my quest to get everything done on a very busy Friday morning in the early part of September.  We'd been working hard all morning and it was only 9:30.  Already we had taken our spelling test, our reading selection test for the week, and were busy working on our AR tests on the computer.  I had my head down as I was quickly scanning over their reading tests to see if everyone had understood what to do.  Then came that sweet voice sending me a message , one that said it was time to stop for a moment and talk with one another.

His words caught me way off guard.  I wasn't expecting them, as a matter of fact I was not even close to feeling like someone should say that to me.  Truth be told, I was following a rigid agenda that was written on the white board in our room.  One after the other, we crossed off things from that huge list.  We were going to have to work like crazy to get everything done.  I felt more like a taskmaster, and not a very good one at that.

But at that moment, I put down my marking pen and called on the kids to look over at me. Readers were closed, computers were left untouched, voices were stilled,  and I could feel tears begin to well up in my eyes and a little lump in my throat.  I wasn't sure if I could say anything or not, but I had to try.

I told them how I felt.

I told them that I was sorry that sometimes we seem to get so busy at school that we don't have much time to do anything but work.  I looked at each of their faces, one by one, and told them how much their teacher loved each of them.  I told those sweet children that all summer long I had been looking for kids who might need me and how I wondered if there would ever be a class for a person like me to teach.  I admitted to them that I had been afraid that no one would need a teacher like me who had been teaching for so very long.  I told them how happy I was when I found out it would be them.  

I cannot believe that I didn't cry because I sure did feel like it.  
It was not easy but I made it.

That whole exchange of words lasted no more than 5 minutes.  We went back to work shortly after and actually had one of the most productive mornings that I have seen yet this year.  It was a humbling experience for me to realize once again the gift of being a teacher.  

When they all walked out the door today and left to begin the weekend, I just sat at my desk for a moment and took it all in.  There were desks to clean off, trash to be taken out, a floor to be swept and the gathering up of all my things.  I still had an hour's worth of work ahead of me before I could go home, but all I wanted to do was to just sit and think a bit.

And so I did.

The experience I had today with being the recipient of

those 5 very heartfelt and tender words, spoken innocently from the young man in my classroom, just reiterated what I profess each day and probably will until I breathe my very last.  Teaching is the most honorable and noble of professions that there ever was.  God called me to do this and above all else, I'm so glad for one thing.

How thankful I am that I listened and obeyed.
Never have I regretted it.
Never have I looked back.
I can sleep at night.

~and I can't wait to find out what it is~

My 61st birthday will be arriving towards the end of next month and I am baffled beyond measure to figure out where the last 6 decades have disappeared to.  Once I was eight years old and having the time of my life on the playground with my friends as we chased the cute boys at recess time and then before I knew it, I was 24 and the mother of a brand new little baby boy. There was a time that I celebrated ten years in the classroom as an educator and then I made the mistake of blinking.  Before I knew it, I had completed nearly 4 decades of service to the field of education.

Time flew while I was living my life.

I must admit that I wonder what will happen to me in the years that lie ahead.  I'm more towards the end of time, not the beginning any longer.  What shall I do with the years that remain for me on this earth?  It's a question that I'm asking myself more and more these days, especially when it comes to the subject of being an educator.

I have been asked many times why it is that I am still teaching.  People want to know when I will try to stop and really enter the world of retirement.  They ask with the best of intentions about that thing called "quitting" but the truth is that I have no good answer for them, mostly because I don't even know myself when I will really call it "good" and stop teaching.  I do know the reason why I'm still teaching.  I'm teaching because I want to be.  It's pretty much plain and simple like that, you know?

Year #39 began three weeks ago and I am thankful that I have been placed with a wonderful group of 3rd graders at Big Pasture School, just up the road a ways to the north, across the Red River into the state of Oklahoma.  Every morning I arrive at school about 6:15 or so and prepare for our day together.  About an hour after they head back to their homes at day's end, I return to my home in Burkburnett as well.  We pack a whole lot of learning and fun into the very short amount of time that we are together.  I think of them always, even when we are not together.  I wonder how they are doing.  I pray for God to watch over them and keep them safe.

And I do one more thing.
I remain grateful for the blessing of belonging to them.

I'm not sure what lies ahead for me but whatever it is, I go forward in faith to find it.  For some strange reason, I feel as if there is something very special awaiting me in my future and I gotta tell you something.

I can't wait to find out what it is.

These guys are the best "401k's" that a teacher could ask for.  I never struck it rich in paychecks in the business of education, not even in nearly 40 years of trying.  My riches come from other things and you are looking at 19 of them.  I didn't do it for the money.  Not ever.  I did it because I wanted to and I have never looked back since.  





            

~September~

Welcome to the first day of September, 2016!
Our God is good, today and always!

I can't even imagine just how fast the first 8 months of the year flew by us.  The dance of the seasons is fixing to change soon, with summer bowing out to the beautiful season of Autumn as it arrives in all of its color and splendor.  It's been a long and hot summer here on the plains of Texas and to be right honest, I'm ready for it to take a rest for awhile.  The older I have gotten, the more that really hot weather doesn't appeal to me.  I can't believe I am saying that, but for sure it is true.

September is one of those months that holds so many memories for me but I guess when you are fast approaching age 61, you have been around long enough for just about all the months of the year to be memory filled.  I'm thankful for the remembrances even though they aren't all good ones.  Those that weren't so pleasant just remind me of two things.

I have lived.
I have loved.

My mom has been gone now for soon to be 9 years and that thought is mind boggling to me. She celebrated her 87th birthday on September 12, 2007 from her room at the nursing home in Hutchinson, Kansas.  I didn't know what to get her that year as a gift.  There's only so much that a person can keep in a tiny room like she had.  Besides that, she had long ago given away most of her possessions.  I wanted to do something, so I bought a small purple mum plant to put on her desk there.  She seemed to love it and watched it grow for several days.  

About a week after her birthday, Mom called me on the phone and said that I should come and take it home now.  She wanted for me to plant it in my own garden, the garden that she herself once had.  So I did.

Nearly two weeks to the day after her final birthday here on earth, Mom passed away.  All of us sat there at her bedside in the very early morning hours of September 25, 2007 and watched her take her last breath. When it was over, what a blessing it was.  No more pain, nor anxiety, nor being fearful of breathing would come to her.  If you have ever sat in the company of someone as they were departing this realm and going on to the next, you will know the feeling of angels being all around you.  That's what I felt that night.  

I was in the company of God's angels.

My mom always dreaded certain days of the year coming around.  She remembered without fail the November 4th death of my sister in a car accident that happened in 1969.  She never failed to recall that November 3rd was our niece Kimberly's date of death.  If someone close to her had died, she would forever recollect it in her mind and her heart.  Mom loved people like that.  

And I do too.

Had she lived a little while longer, Mom would have been here to celebrate her 96th birthday coming up in just a few days now.  Instead, she's going to have a great party in a place of no tears or sadness.  The guests that will be there are those she missed so much while still here in this place we call our temporary home.  What a lovely time it shall be!

Welcome to September everyone!
Enjoy the good life that you have been given.
It's what I want for all of you.  It's what my mom would have wanted for you too!