The Rest of the Story

     When I was fortunate enough to be in the regular classroom setting, I used to send home a weekly newsletter.  It was a colorful collection of the weekly skills, vocabulary lists, lunch menus, needed supplies, and events happening in our little academic world.  We celebrated birthdays, lost teeth, (a big deal in Kindergarten and First grade!) announced new siblings, Snow Queens, family celebrations, and offered up pictures of the good things that were going on in our classroom community.  Sometimes this newsletter offered up hugs for students and families needing our prayers or love. 

      Depending on my assigned grade level, the publication went by different names—The Sixth Grade Scoop, The First Grade Gazette, The Kindergarten Times—but the content was usually the same and the intent of the note was keeping families informed.   I’ve always believed that the key to successful school-family relationships is communication and I hoped this low budget newsletter would help with this area.  For the most part, it was a great way to share news and increase literacy for the students and families.  

     My dad used to do the market report for the family livestock auction business. He recorded it each week and it ran on a variety of news radio stations across the state. Stations such as KWYR, WNAX, KGFX all ran his weekly review of the sale and the producers who had gratefully (and loyally) chosen to do business with the Winner Livestock Auction Company.  Dad had a great radio voice—clear and smooth-with enough wit and reason to keep the report moving smoothly each week.  One of my favorite things is to cross paths with people who tell me how they miss his market reports and banter on the radio. He must have had a small following we were unaware of, as I hear this often.   He would’ve made a great disc jockey or radio talk show host. (Lord knows he had plenty of opinions and music to share. :)  ) One week, after an exasperating Legislative session, I happened to hear his weekly report on my way home from school.  He was clearly unhappy with the current situation regarding something in our fair state and he was using his paid radio time to share these beliefs.  That evening over supper, I told him I had heard the market report.  He said, “Yeah, I went a little “Paul Harvey” today on the report. Sometimes I forget I’m on the air.” I silently figured out that “going Paul Harvey” meant he knew he had offered some personal opinions during the broadcast (reminiscent to Paul’s daily recordings) instead of just reading the market report. We had a good laugh as I agreed.

     Along with his extensive collection of record albums, Dad collected vocabulary words.  Last summer, as we were rummaging through the house contents (basically our collective lives) preparing for the auction sale, I stumbled upon a binder bursting with papers and articles dad had saved.  There were literally hundreds of words highlighted and defined in his neat, distinguishable script.  I think Dad began this collection of obscure words to add to his personal repertoire-- using them only when writing letters to the editor or letters to friends and family. Trust me, most of them were so infrequently used and uncommonly seen you would never actually come across them in daily life, and that’s why Dad loved them. Being able to use these tidbits in his occasional, strongly worded letters to the local weekly newspaper (and sometimes the Argus Leader), brought him some innate sense of joy. Simply put, he was a “wordie” –similar to today’s trend of being a “foodie”, only with words not culinary delicacies.    Dad was well read, contained a thesaurus-like vocabulary and a keen interest in local/statewide issues.  And he called a spade a spade.

     If it’s one thing Daughters folks can do , it’s talk….and give opinions.  And as the newsletter evolved, I started to share thoughts and opinions. Usually the stories and opinions were about educational issues or things going on in our classroom.  Sometimes I offered observations on life and my parenting duties. Like my dad used to say, I went a little “Paul Harvey” some weeks.

     Four years ago our country was reeling after the Sandy Hook tragedy.  As a mother and an educator, I could not imagine the heartbreak and trauma this community was facing.  It was unfathomable, and will forever be so.   As I sat down to write my last newsletter for 2012 the night of the tragedy, I knew I needed to take a different route than the generic Christmas greeting, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. I think it’s safe to say every teacher in the world went home that night with a heavy heart and I was no different. I packed up my stuff a bit earlier than most evenings and felt some joy knowing my home would be full, unlike those crushed families in Sandy Hook.  My boys would both be under the same roof tonight for the first time in a long while. Tate on his way home from college and Scott anxiously awaiting his company. I waited to write the newsletter and went home where I hoped to find Tate and his barrage of laundry.  He did not disappoint.  We had a great evening together, just like old times.  I would tackle the newsletter (and laundry) later in the week, perhaps something would come to me. 

     And it did.  The following is the message from The First Grade Gazette dated December 2012. 

I have a college boy home for the break…..this involves late nights, lazy mornings, more food, more foot traffic, and much laundry.  We are excited to have him home.  His brother, although he would never admit it. Is possibly even more eager to have him home.  He shares stories—parental versions of college events, and in the confines of their bedroom, the brother versions, embellished I’m sure.  It is a cherished time for us as a family.  We miss him and how things used to be when we were all under one roof.

As I awoke to find him sprawled out on the couch I was irritated that he couldn’t use his freshly made bed and clean sheets I was so proud to have ready for him. ( Tate has only been home once since July.) I was just about ready to wake him and send him onward to his room and something stopped me dead in my tracks.  Was it really a big deal that he had chosen to use the living room as his resting place for the past two nights?  Was it really going to “ruin” the couch as I had told Mark the day before when we came downstairs to find him there?

Then I thought about the events of the past few weeks—So many parents would love to see their children sleeping on the couch or a dribbled puddle of red juice on the ecru carpet.  Who would care as the $4.00 gallon of milk was tipped over just because they weren’t paying “attention”?  They would relish the chance to pick up every Lego and Barbie shoe, if only they could hug and hold the creator of the mess just one more time. I looked over at my 20 year old “boy” and I let him sleep…..

The events of the past week have shaken us all….please know I realize what a precious gift you send me each day. They are your world AND mine.  I am thankful for the gift of joy and wonder they bring to my life, and their safety is of our utmost importance.  Please know your greatest gifts are loved and treasured here in our school.

     I had gone high-powered “Paul Harvey” on this one, but I still sent if off with the kiddos the next day in their weekly purple folders.  I’m not sure why I felt the confidence to do so, but I did.  How quickly our lives would change was unknown—the events that unfolded two weeks later were unfathomable and still knock me to my knees more days than I care to admit. 

     In this season of gifts and giving, families and (senseless) family feuds, I want you to know that no matter how frazzled and frenzied this season may find you, that you are fine.  You are fine if your Elf on the Shelf hasn’t moved in four days (gasp). You are fine if you did not find the time or resources to do all the Pinterest-perfect projects we are led to believe make or break our Christmas celebrations. You.Are.Fine.  It will all be fine. Trust me.

     Never forget your greatest gifts are the people and places you make wonderful with your presence. And never forget those beautiful faces you put to bed each night…..either in person or mentally through your thoughts and prayers, because moms never stop tucking their children in at night….no matter where they live. 

     Treasure this time and these days……they are our greatest gifts.

     And as long as I’m going all “Paul Harvey” on you, this is truly “the rest of the story”.