Like glory ...

          My freshman year of high school Dad bought a scientific calculator for me to use in school.  It had more buttons on it than I had ever seen in one place.  It was a Montgomery Ward’s Scientific Calculator.  My science teacher for 9th and 10th grade at Harris County High School was Mr. Carver.  He wore a crisp white shirt and tie to school everyday.   I was rambunctious and very much an attention seeker in middle school and high school.  Mr. Carver knew the best way to keep me busy and engaged was to give me tasks that were beyond my reach, so that I would have to work and concentrate to complete them.   He was another science teacher who was always willing to answer questions, ask hard questions and help me find answers.  He was always patient with me, even when I ask questions that had obvious answers to him.  Mr. Carver taught me that admitting you don’t know something is the first step to learning something.

          Like glory, life is fleeting.  It is swift of foot and slow to forget.   As Christian singer Bruce Carroll laments, “on the highway of life, there’s nowhere to turn around.”   Thomas Wolfe is famous for telling us “you can never go home again.”  We discover that when we move away and come back “home” to a place where time continued its lockstep march into the future.    

          How we are at the present moment (personality, attitude, opinions, etc.) is the sum of all of our experiences and everyone we have met since we were born; good or bad.

          My 7th grade life science teacher, Ed Brunjes, is the reason I became a 7th grade Life Science.  He always had something going on or under the microscope.  Mr. B was always willing to share his eyepiece and his excitement over what he had discovered.  When I found a “large” Praying Mantis (Mantis religiosa) in the Holly front of Harris County Junior High, Mr. built a terrarium to house it and helped me feed it files all day.  He mourned with me when one of my classmates (we never found out who), broke the Praying Mantis in half killing.

          My 4th grade Ms. Bussie, was a major influence in my life.  In her class I learned my “times tables.”  We practiced them everyday after lunch … numbers 1-12.  She also  taught us the squares to “help us in life.”  (12 X 12 = 144, etc.)  Everyday after we finished our times tables, she would read a chapter of Nancy Drew or The Hardy Boys. Ms. B read with flair and drama.  What would you expect from the teacher who had her 4th grade class practice and present a play every 6 weeks.   I still remember dressing up to play the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.

          I was awkward and different throughout middle school and high school.  For my 13th birthday, Dad gave me a subscription to Scientific American.  I would read the research in them and share it with my dad.  He would always refute the research and tell me the scientists didn’t know what they were talking about.  Maybe he was trying to sharpen my debating skills, but when I quoted from the magazine he seemed to let it go.

          I thought about Mr. Carver Monday of this week.  Sitting in my classroom listening to a Chopin playlist while working, a song came on that I heard him play on the piano in his living room.  The picture of his children and me huddled around as he played Chopin is still very real in my mind.  Mr. Carver introduced me to classical music.  As I listened to Chopin, I Googled his name thinking I would write him a letter and let him know the impact he had on my life.  The only thing returned in the search was his obituary from 2010.  He died at the age of  79.  My appreciation was 7 years late.

          Like glory, life is fleeting.  It is swift of foot and slow to forget.   Love while you are living, be thankful while you have breath, and remember you are the sum of everyone you have known, every experience you have had, and live out loud with every breath you take.  Rest in peace Mr. Carver.