Teachers

On the last day of the school year, Fletcher Elementary School distributed report cards for each student to take home, which included the name of the teacher we’d have in the next grade. I had Mrs. Frank for kindergarten, Mrs. Ditmer for first grade, and Mrs. Grestel for second grade, all veteran teachers. I liked my teachers, but when it was time for third grade, I finally hit the jackpot: Miss Kramer’s class. Pat Kramer was young and beautiful, and my eight-year-old self was thrilled. I’m not sure ageism was even a thing back in the day, but for a certain little girl, having the most beautiful teacher in the school was a dream come true.

 

Not only was Miss Kramer young and beautiful, but she was also an excellent teacher, combining just the right balance of academics, curiosity and fun. It wasn’t an easy year, as she had the unenviable task of shepherding her third graders through the assassination of the president, JFK, which she did with compassion and care. All while she was preparing for her wedding. Like 2020-21, it was a school year to remember.

 

If Miss Kramer was beautiful, Mrs. Frank had the gentle ability to herd cats, helping twenty-plus five-year-olds adjust to school for the first time. Mrs. Ditmer used her years of experience to instill a disciplined approach to writing for the little hands of her first-graders, while Mrs. Grestel nurtured a love of reading in a pig-tailed seven-year-old that still brings me pleasure each day. 

 

In a 2008 study, Bruce Johnson determined that the little things teachers do every day impact the resilience of the children in their classrooms. While they are seemingly ordinary attributes and actions, being available and showing genuine interest, actively listening, modeling positivity, and bringing humor to their students really make a difference. Yes, the phonics approach, the linguistic method, a neurological impress technique or a language experience model matter in teaching kids to read, but the ordinary matters just as much. 

 

Our second granddaughter, the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday, has clearly been a beneficiary of this kind of attention in her kindergarten class. While I’ve never met Mrs. Snee, I hear about her every day when I talk with Lizzie. She loves her kindergarten teacher, and because of that connection, Lizzie has discovered a great joy in learning, and I’m convinced she’ll thrive in her transition to first grade. 

 

My friend Lisa has taught little ones for many years, and often shares humorous moments from her class. This week, a child told her, “My brother gave me a bloody nose this morning and now I’m feeling unconscious!” One of her kindergarten students sent her a message recently. “I like Adem,” said the five-year-old. “Can you tell him?” Just add matchmaker to that long list of teacher-skills. 

 

As this COVID-tinged school year draws to a close, the kids have been counting down the days to the end, and so have teachers. Lisa explains the logistical nightmare: “I only have twelve ‘in person,’ but they are so far apart it’s hard to keep them focused especially when you need to focus on the nine on the screen. It’s hard.” My daughter-in-law agrees. Becky, who teaches special ed students, told me that 2020-21 has been her most difficult year of teaching.

 

And yet, day after day, teachers are available to their kids, through e-mails, text messages, videos, and in-person contact. Mrs. Snee has listened with genuine interest to every story the imaginative Lizzie has told her. Mrs. Shade has modeled a positive outlook to her kids, her “you can do it” attitude pushing them to achieve far beyond their IEP goals. And Mrs. Schoch is an expert at finding and sharing humor, both in her classroom and in the social media world, bringing a chuckle to my heart with her matchmaking skills and LOL moments.

 

Thank you, teachers, for loving on our kids during these difficult days. Someday, they’ll tell their grandchildren about the year of the Corona and the teachers who made a difference. They’ll remember your name with gratitude because you were there for them, listening, affirming, laughing and believing in them. It’s been a year of goodness. 

Vax-a-Million

Ohio Governor Mike DeWine made national news when he announced a promotion to increase the vaccination rate in the state: Vax-a-Million. Beginning Wednesday, May 26, five lucky Ohioans will win one million dollars in weekly lottery drawings for adults vaccinated against COVID-19. In addition, five teens will win a full ride at one of the state universities if their name is chosen. And to think, I was happy to get a free Krispy Kreme donut by showing my vaccine card.

 

As expected, lots of people have an opinion on DeWine’s scheme. Couldn’t he have given something to everyone? Well, doing the math, at the current rate of vaccination, we each would have ended up with a buck or so, not worth the stamp to send it out. But he could have offered $100,000 each for fifty people – instead of two inches of jam on the toast, spread it a little thinner. Writing in the Washington Post, James Hohmann expressed a concern I share: “Think about how entitled and spoiled this must look to the developing world, desperate for access to vaccines. As states and cities sweeten the pot, India is recording more than 4,500 covid deaths per day.” American privilege in full view.

 

It's no surprise the late night hosts picked up on the news. Jimmy Fallon is afraid “some idiot out there is saying, you know, after taxes, it only comes out to $800,000, so it’s not really worth it.” Yeah, if it’s not the full million, I’m done with that. Fallon also gave us an unforgettable image. “Instead of drawing from a basket, they will pull numbered cotton swabs from someone’s  nose.” Trevor Noah put in his two cents: “By the way, the best part of the lottery is that you don’t have to worry about holding on to a ticket. If you win they will just find you by the microchip in your bloodstream.” Just kidding, I think. 

 

How is DeWine’s gamble playing out? After the vaccination numbers had been going down for weeks, there was a 6% increase in vaccinations for people between the ages of thirty to seventy-four post-announcement. State Health Director Stephanie McCloud is encouraged. “Not only have we achieved our goal of increasing public awareness and interest, but we have slowed what was a consistent decline, and in certain age groups we’re seeing an increase again . . . This is doing exactly what we intended it to do.”

 

Since my husband, sons, and daughters-in-law have already joined me in baring their arms to the shot, we’ve brainstormed about what we’d do with the money if we won. Drew mentioned fulfilling a life-long dream of traveling to the Big Easy, drawn there by the food and the music.  Greg would pay off his house, while Dan suggested moving to a place with a warmer winter; I’ll compromise and install heated seats in his truck if I win.

 

Larry thought about buying a cottage in Maine, but I suggested renting instead, getting a big house where all eleven of us could spend a couple of weeks near the ocean. I wonder how long we’d last? He wants to remodel our kitchen, and find a way to install a larger shower in his bathroom – a nice touch. My list was simple: a new phone, paying off our kids’ college loans, sending unexpected cash to a few friends who are struggling, making charitable donations, and setting up college funds for our grandchildren. To prove I’m not totally altruistic, I’d also rent a bright red convertible for the summer. 

 

Dreaming of what could be is fun for a bit, but the odds of winning this money are probably about one in a million, quite a bit steeper than the risk of dying from COVID-19. But it doesn’t hurt a girl to dream.

 

The moral of the story is: get vaccinated. When you do, go to ohiovaxamillion.com and sign up to win the money. Good luck! On second thought, as long as you get vaccinated, forget the vax-a-million lottery. The fewer people who enter, the better my chances. Instead, you can wave when I drive past in my convertible. Can’t wait!

We Can Do the Same

My friend Lauren is a grandmother of seven, including triplets, while I only have four grandkids. Halfway through a day watching our two-year-old cousins, the charming Henry Kyle and the sweet Emma Belle, I desperately texted my friend with these words: “How did you ever take care of triplets? I’ve had two little ones today, and I’m exhausted – and it isn’t even lunch time yet!”

 

Because Emma and Henry don’t see each other every day, they are still figuring out how to get along, and haven’t totally mastered the concept of sharing. Their interactions are a microcosm of human behavior at its best – and sometimes at its worst.

 

A pattern is emerging in the days they are together. First, they greet each other through the glass door with squeals of joy from Emma and a side-ways grin from Henry. They are excited to see each other, quickly heading to the toys. But then it starts to go south, as Henry wants to check out all of the toys and Emma wants to protect her turf – and her Toy Story friends. It’s not that either one really wants to play with a specific toy – they just don’t want the other one to play with said toy, especially Woody and Buzz.

 

Sometimes they hide the toys they want the most, while I’ve also observed one torment the other, holding out a toy and then swiftly running away with the prize. It’s hilarious to watch as they plot and plan their attack and defense. They remind me of the movement out of the gate at the Kentucky Derby as they jockey for position, even for the best seat on Nana’s lap. I have resorted to the dreaded warning a time or two: “If you’re going to fight over that toy, I’ll take it and then neither one of you can have it.” My mother used to call it, “biting off your nose to spite your face.” 

 

As I watch the little ones, I am reminded of human behavior, in marriage and families, in Israel and Palestine, and even in the U.S. Capitol. Divorce lawyers make big bucks because couples can’t find agreement over the family pet or time with the children. Tensions simmering for years in the Mideast have reached a boiling point this week , and if I understand correctly, it’s primarily a disagreement over territory. And an elected official in a leadership position in Washington proudly said, “One-hundred percent of our focus is on stopping this new administration.” Not to work towards shared concerns for the people of this country, such as fighting the pandemic, building much-needed infrastructure, or sorting out racism or immigration. Why? Because someone else is holding Buzz Lightyear. 

 

Is it because the “other” is inherently evil, the bad guy? Toy Story creator Andrew Stanton weighs in on the rather unsavory characters of Sid and Stinky Pete the Prospector: “Yes, in the eyes of toys, Sid is a brutal baddie . . . [yet] he’s at that age where blowing stuff up is more interesting than anything else.” As for Stinky Pete, Stanton wonders, “If I was stuck in a box and never got played with, what would it do to me?”  

 

Here’s the rub – I do expect parents, Mideast leaders and elected officials to be more mature than Sid, Stinky Pete, and my favorite two year olds. We can do better, because even the little ones are beginning to do better each day. By lunch time, they’re sharing their food, and by early afternoon, they’re playing together, realizing that if they’re on their best behavior, they won’t have to take a nap right away. They’re already beginning to learn the kindergarten lessons, Robert Fulghum spells out: “Share everything. Play fair. Don’t hit people. Don’t take things that aren’t yours. Say you’re sorry when your hurt somebody. Clean up your own mess. Flush.” I may be worn out by the end of the day, but I have a renewed sense of hope for humankind. If two little cousins can figure it out, surely we can do the same.

 

A Window Into the Heart

As part of its observance of our national bicentennial celebration, the City of Tonawanda (my hometown) organized a swim across the Niagara River. The video evidence is probably long gone, as there was no cloud back-up in 1976, but it captured the image of a thirteen year old girl on her diagonal path across the mighty river. Stroke by stroke, her beloved father coached her on, shouting encouragement from the motorboat that puttered along within feet of my sister Janet. 

 

I’ve recently had the privilege of doing the work of a midwife, helping to birth a book of memory by Ashland area coach Forrest Pruner, a mainstay for many years at Crestview, Lexington, and even Brookside Pool. With the help of his friend Judy Ringler, Pruner tells the story of a life defined by faith, family, and his long-time vocation as a coach for track, cross country and basketball. At age eighty-eight, Pruner has decades to draw upon, and tidbits of his iconic wisdom are scattered among the stories of “Just Call Me Coach,” now available on Amazon. 

 

While Pruner’s story is his own, it is also the story of many men of his generation: early life on the farm, military service in a time of war, a return home to the factory, college on the G.I. Bill, a home in the countryside, a family of his own, and a passion to spur young men and women on in their life pursuits. With a few changes in details, it’s my father’s story as well. In contrast to Forrest Pruner’s stint in Korea, Frank Streeter served in World War II, and he chose a union card instead of the G.I. Bill, yet the two men walked similar paths. No wonder I could hear my dad’s voice on so many of the pages of Pruner’s book. Even Coach Pruner’s chapter detailing his weekly exercise regimen (did I say he’s eighty-eight?) reminds me of my dad and his daily bike rides. One of my father’s first questions after breaking his hip at eighty-two was, “When can I ride my bike again?” Not “if,” but “when.”

 

Writing in his book, “The Greatest Generation,” Tom Brokaw speaks of people like my dad and Coach Pruner: “They never whined or whimpered.” At least they didn’t let others hear them if they did. Life was difficult, but they seemed able to see the challenges as possibilities rather than as a cesspool of despair.

 

George MacDonald Fraser describes his experience with telling his story: “Looking back over sixty-odd years, life is like a piece of string with knots in it, the knots being those moments that live in the mind forever, and the intervals being hazy, half-recalled times when I have a fair idea of what was happening, in a general way, but cannot be sure of dates or places or even the exact order in which events took place.” Coach Pruner’s ‘knots’ were tied in a creek in Korea, in the purchase of cleats for a track team recruit, and in the dreaded ‘burn-out’ days and muddy obstacle courses his athletes remember with fond groans.

 

Why write our own story? Some write for fame or fortune, while others hope to preserve a story for history. But for Coach Pruner, I’m guessing he understands that he has a story that needs to be told. As Thomas Cirignano explains, “Each of us is a book waiting to be written, and that book, if written, results in a person explained.”

 

How I wish I had paid more attention to the stories my dad told over the years. I never thought to record his voice or to put his story to paper. Now, years after his death, my siblings and I are left with only snippets of memory, the bike rides and river swims, the carpenter’s picnics and the old red truck. 

 

One rookie memoir writer told me, “I’m worried there’s too much ‘me’ in my story.” Yet that’s what personal story is, a window into the heart of another fellow traveler whose journey intersects with ours. We are richer indeed when the curtains are pulled back through the gift of story.

Jeopardy!

So-do-so-do-do-so-do-so. These eight notes ring out across America as regularly as church bells. However, instead of calling parishioners to worship, they invite television viewers to “think,” the name creator Merv Griffin gave to the thirty-second ditty that counts down to the final Jeopardy! question of the evening. How much will the contestants wager? And will they be able to dredge up the correct question from the recesses of their minds during that terrifying thirty seconds? 

 

Approximately ten million Americans  push away from the dinner table each night in time to settle down in front of the television with a cup of coffee or a slice of pie, ready to exercise their brain cells in the pursuit of trivia. It’s hard to remember that Jeopardy! was actually cancelled many years ago, since it’s now such a staple of American life. When Griffin was attempting to revive the game show in 1983, he wanted its original host, Art Fleming, to return, but he declined, and Fleming’s friend Alex Trebek got the gig. While no longer interested in hosting the show, Fleming did express his opinion about the reincarnation, suggesting the writers were making the questions too easy by inserting hints. Hasn’t helped me too much!

 

I was surprised to learn that 150,000 people take Jeopardy’s contestant test each year, known to be quite the challenge to their brainpower. Considering there are only about four hundred annual slots for contestants, those are not very good odds. I’ve decided to pass on the opportunity to apply – while I often know the answers, I’m not quick enough to retrieve the needed fact before the contestants buzz in.

 

Nearly four decades after Trebek took the reins of Jeopardy, his death on November 8, 2020, left its producers with a tough decision: who could possibly replace the iconic host? He was the Jeopardy franchise. He had hosted for thirty-seven years. Would viewers accept a new host in place of Trebek? 

 

The question is getting good traction, but not nearly as much as the monster television question of 1980, “Who shot J.R.?” Eighty-three million viewers tuned in for the answer to that question on the Dallas episode that aired eight months after the bullets left his sister-in-law’s gun. And yes, had I been given that answer on Jeopardy!, I would not have known the question. Google it, Barbara!

 

While it’s not as much of a cliff-hanger as Dallas created, the strategy to choose a replacement for Trebek is brilliant. Introduce a number of guest hosts, let them audition for a week or two on the show, and create new energy for a game show often thought of as an after-dinner gathering of the old folks at home. Jeopardy! is good for keeping those aging brain cells active, so it is popular with the older generation, but people of all ages tune in to test their skills against the week’s contestants, certain they could succeed too if given the chance.

 

So far, the hosts have spanned the spectrum of “show business.” Ken Jennings is a homegrown Jeopardy favorite, the winningest contestant ever, while Mike Richards is a long-time executive producer of the show. Katie Couric and Anderson Cooper come from the world of news, with Couric the first-ever female host. Dr. Oz raised some eyebrows as to credibility, while NFL quarterback Aaron Rodgers displayed his expertise at studying playbooks, calling audibles, and being good on his feet. Now, by popular demand, LeVar Burton has garnered an invitation too. The long-time Reading Rainbow host and actor (Roots, Star Trek: The Next Generation), will appear July 26-30. 

 

This season of Jeopardy! is a precious microcosm of life. The grief of loss, the realization that change is inevitable, the comfort of routine, the challenge to think, the joy of catching up with old friends like Jennings, the chance to explore new possibilities, and the anticipation of waiting for what is to come – it’s all there. So cue up the music, grab a slice of pie from the Lyn-Way and some Goldberry coffee, and settle in to hear Johnny Gilbert welcome us home. “And now, here is the host of Jeopardy! . . .”