Biscuits from Scratch and Other Tragic Traditions

When I was a young married stupid person, I tried to make homemade biscuits.  Ok, they weren’t TOTALLY made from scratch, they were made from a mix, but I had to add something, I remember, and then roll ‘em up and put them on a cookie sheet, etc. etc. I had seen my mom and grandmothers all make biscuits from scratch while I was growing up, so how hard could this be, right? Hockey Puck! Seriously, Hockey puck! Well, four hockey pucks to be exact. That’s what I ended up with. I was supposed to get about 12 biscuits out of the batch. I got four. What happed to the rest of the dough? It ended up all over my shoes, the floor, the cabinets… you get the picture. Even the salt from my tears didn’t add any flavor to the four pathetic crunchy rocks I got out of the batch.

My Mamaw tried to teach me how to knit once, or do something with some kind of needle. It was a large needle, not a knitting needle (so I guess it wasn’t knit), but I held the needle between my teeth while trying to do whatever profound maneuver she was showing me and I bit down. Yep. The needle broke off in my tongue. For those of you who just held your mouth in a funny way, it wasn’t too bad, I pulled it out as I swear I heard “Love her skin” and we put everything away. I’m pretty sure that was the last thing Mamaw tried to teach me.

Are you sitting down? I can’t fry chicken. Seriously. I can’t fry anything!  Bless my heart! I tried once to fry, well, I don’t remember what it was, but that grease will SPATTER! I gave up and never did it again. Are you still sitting down? I can’t make sweet tea. I know, I know!! I’m so sorry! Yes, I really am from here! But I can’t make sweet tea. I have never in my life made sweet tea. When I want sweet tea I go to Whitt’s (if you’re from here, you know what I mean) or Lawler’s.

What is it with these sad confessions of traditions gone horribly wrong? Today I had many flashbacks as my mom came over to teach my daughter how to thread her sewing machine. Mom gave it to Mary for Christmas and I may or may not have been able to follow the directions to thread it, but I thought that would be a great Mamaw/Mary thing for them to do. Mary seems a little excited, but a little reluctant about sewing. I told her about the times Mom tried to teach me to sew. I used to cut out patterns and I would make these little square purses that Mom told me would be perfect to carry around the house. I wasn’t talented in the way of homemaking if you haven’t picked up on that yet. It’s ok. I’m aware. Love my skin and Bless my heart both.

As I watched my mom and daughter fiddle with the sewing machine I had all these memories flooding me of when I was learning to sew (and no, I can’t, but I did learn a tiny bit). Memories flooded of all the time I spent with my grandparents that went faster than anyone could have ever impressed upon my young mind that it would. I had no idea that I would want them back so badly; to ask them again to show me how to cook, how to thread a needle without giving myself a temporary speech impediment, or what it was like living through the depression.

I used to sleep in the floor of my Mamaw’s bedroom. She would always, always tell me the story of Flopsy, Mopsy, and Peter Cottontail as I would doze off. I would always wake in the middle of the night and no matter what time it would be, I would call out to her, “Mamaw?” “Yes” “Are you asleep?” “No, I’m just resting my eyes.” I was convinced she never slept; she always just rested her eyes. Never would she allow me to think I had bothered her. It was ok to call out to her anytime.

It has recently really hit me, and I am impressing on my kids, that passing down tradition is so much more than passing down a trade or skill; it is about spending time with someone now because one day you will physically ache to have them back. It is about something that truly cannot be put into words, but into actions, memories, and flashbacks. Yes, it is about learning to can food, sew, cook, and so many other things, but mostly it is about time that you don’t get back.

I haven’t had grandparents for years and I miss them so much. If I could thank them for anything they ever gave me, it would be the time they took. It would be the way I never felt like an inconvenience to them. And I tell my kids often they have the best grandparents ever, on both sides, who offer so much time and talent to them… and yes, my kids occasionally hear “Bless their heart” themselves. After all, look at their mom, love her skin.

To Mamaw, Papaw, Granny, Granddaddy, and Mom,

Thank you, infinitely, 

Becky

Gargling Peanut Butter II

(View previous blog) I just found that Mr. Jim McCorkindale, the principal to whom I lovingly referred in my blog post today, passed away a few years ago. It seems surreal to me. I count myself among the many blessed to have known and worked with such a light among people. Because of his confidence and trust in me, I "thought I could" too. Because of him, so many children and adults became so much more. What a beautiful legacy, Mr. M.

Gargling Peanut Butter

I began teaching nearly 22 years ago in 1992. Yes, I was 7. ha. When I began my career as a new stupid teacher (no, you new teachers are not stupid. I was.) I was amazing! Seriously! At least I thought I was. I worked for an utterly awesome principal who made us all feel as though we were the best teacher in the entire world and we couldn't wait to prove it! We would come in early, stay late, do whatever needed to be done to make sure our babies learned whatever needed to be learned. The school was in a rather needy area, but I have always loved teaching in areas such as this, as the children appreciated every little thing you did for them

One morning Mr. McCorkindale, my principal, and I had a post-observation meeting. He complimented me on how I was so positive with the children and said, "Keep being positive with these kids because you know, children won't be 'good for nothing'". We laughed and I asked him if there was anything I needed to do differently. He replied, "Becky, if you can stand on your head and gargle peanut butter and those kids learn from it, go ahead!" I loved that man! On my way out of his office I turned to him and said, "Mr. McCorkindale? Thank you for always being so positive with your teachers... because we won't be 'good for nothing' either!" 

Well, I never did stand on my head and gargle peanut butter but I did do lots of fun things. Those were the days we did "units". If you've taught long enough you know what I'm talking about. You could do a week on apples. "Apples?" You ask. Yes. You would study Johnny Appleseed, read about apples, write about them, study poetry, measure them, weigh them, graph them, cook with them (using measuring and cookbooks) math, science, etc. You get the picture. You could incorporate everything across the board! We still had a reading, math, science, and social studies curriculum but you would use those as supplements if you wanted. I even did a dinosaur dig my first year in the schoolyard because they were going to tear up the grounds anyway. We used real bones (not dinosaur bones, cattle bones... if you were one of my students, I'm sorry. I lied.)  We learned about paleontology, and fossils. It even made the local news. I taught first grade, by the way. But we all were... wait for it.... creative.

After teaching a few years I moved back home and married and had my own children. I stayed home for a while and after my divorce, was in utter and complete shock when I re-entered the teaching world. There are many reasons for this, but I think the saddest part of this is causing so many passionate teachers to choose other careers. Something is terribly amiss here! Teachers go into teaching because they want to share a passion for learning! I love being around passionate people even if I'm not so passionate about the same things. Passionate people ignite passion in others the same way creative people ignite creativity in others. You can’t KEEP that from happening!

As you may know I am no longer teaching, but am counseling now. I watch some of the most amazing teachers day in and day out struggle to keep up with all the latest "scientific" proof of what works best with teaching our children. I understand that research proves some things, but if you've ever conducted research, you know that research can prove anything you want it to (insert everyone's argument). But here's the thing to me... teaching may be a science to the lawmakers, but it's an art to the teachers and you cannot change that. You cannot take a SCRIPT and make teachers passionate about teaching and make students passionate about learning.

I was (there really is no "was" to this) severely ADD growing up. Yes, I was tested as an adult, there is no joke to it, it's horrible, and it's very real. I have no idea how I managed to get as far as I did in life.... wait... yes, I do. I creatively figured out how I learn best. I didn't have to learn the exact same way as everyone else. And just as we should not expect all children to learn the exact same way, why the hell should we expect all teachers to teach the same way? We are sucking the life out of men and women who truly do not teach, but inspire children to love to read, write, calculate, research history, conduct science experiments and so on and so on! When we watch someone love something we want to love it to! When we hear robotic, monotone, scripted, information presented in a way that even the presenter is reluctant to offer, we don't buy it. Even kids are smart enough to figure this out.

I realize this probably won't change anything. I work for an amazing principal now and my job is different than the teachers to a vast degree, so I can't complain about what I am doing, but I do wish the days of passionate teaching, of "if you can stand on your head and gargle peanut butter and those kids learn from it" were still here. I think we would see more students on fire. I think they would crave information, education, and learning. I think if we all just shared our passion and talent in ways we are gifted, we could so much more easily pull the same out of these children.

To you new young teachers... stay stupid. :) Stay passionate! And thank you for choosing to enlighten our young ones. And if you gargle peanut butter for a lesson, let me know. I want to be there for that one.

Becky Wilkenson

January 25, 2014

Albert Einstein — 'Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.'