I am writing this article on the last day of July, 2024. It is the day before the local election. By close of the day tomorrow (or early the following day) I will know who the newly elected school board members will be as well as other politicians who will continue to campaign for a few more months to serve at the state or national level.
Tomorrow is also the first day back at work for Union County’s teachers. When I was a child and wanted to become a teacher, I used to wonder what mysterious things my teachers did on those “inservice” days. I was to learn that there are times that ignorance is indeed bliss.
Fifty years ago, August 1974, I was poised to experience one of the greatest of all my years in school. School did not actually begin until September 9, so I had the entire month of August to anticipate what would be one of the greatest years of my elementary school life.
I had just finished third grade during school year 1973-74 with one of the greatest teachers to grace the face of the earth, the late, great Florence Chesney. She took the foundations that were taught me in first and second grade by legendary teachers Hazel Walters Butcher and Leah Monroe Wolfe and built a solid first story. Now I eagerly anticipated a new school year with Wanza Sharp.
My year with Ms. Sharp was greater than I could have ever imagined. I not only got to enjoy Ms. Sharp during fourth grade, but in later years as a substitute teacher, fellow church member and dear friend.
I looked back today in Ms. Sharp’s register for that school year. There were 30 other students in our class, many which were to remain friends and classmates through high school, some in college, and some throughout work and life.
Two of the greatest treasures I own came my way by means of fourth grade. Ms. Sharp gave me my first dictionary. I store it with my older, fragile books; even when Ms. Sharp gave it to me, it was missing the first and last few pages, as well as the binding.
Also, during fourth grade I obtained my very first portrait of Abraham Lincoln. There was a company through which we could order famous historical pictures. I’m sure it was Mother who gave me enough to purchase the 8 X 10 portraits of President Lincoln and Lincoln the Railsplitter.
Fifty years later, these cheap reproductions (I’m sure they cost no more than a quarter each) hang on my home library wall. Over the years I had them matted and framed. They have been with me through three houses (two rented, one owned) while I was playing school, going to college, teaching school, and being a school administrator.
Forty years ago, August 1984, I was anticipating my sophomore year as an undergraduate at Lincoln Memorial University. I remember being so incredibly lovesick, as the summer separated me physically (save for one afternoon visit) from my college love. Of course, there were letters and weekly phone calls, but all they seemed to do was make my longing for my love slightly more painful. The years at LMU were most likely the happiest of my life. I was surrounded with Lincoln artifacts, love, friends, just-challenging-enough academics, and the greatest popular music of the decade.
Thirty years ago, August 1994, I was getting ready to start what would be my last year of public school teaching. It was my second and last year of teaching sixth grade at Luttrell Elementary School. How blessed I have been to get to live my dream, especially the eight years I served as classroom teacher. I rejoice for the successes of some of my former students and mourn the loss of others. My heart longs at times for those innocent, sweet, bright smiles of former students, just as it bleeds for those I failed in so many ways through my lack of sympathy and empathy.
I recall having one student, now deceased, who had me as teacher in both third and fifth grades. He told me, “I hated you in third grade—you’re much nicer in fifth.” Perhaps I learned something, the most important of which was that I had much more to learn than any student I ever taught. I also received my Educational Specialist degree from LMU in 1994.
Twenty years ago, August 2004, I had just finished my one year as assistant principal of Maynardville Elementary School. That was right in the middle of five years of consistent change. During the year of 9-11, I was completing the seventh and last (though I did not then know it) year as principal of Sharps Chapel Elementary. The following year I served my one year as principal of Luttrell Elementary. Then I was the assistant principal of Maynardville Elementary. The summer of 1994 saw me transition to the role of elementary curriculum supervisor for the Union County Schools.
The following year saw me placed as supervisor of federal programs, where I have remained these twenty years. For five years, however, I had five different consecutive positions in the school system. I told friends that I’d changed offices so many times that all I had to do was open the car door and tell Abe Lincoln’s portrait to “hop in!”
I remember as a young boy purchasing a Scholastic Book Club biography of Benjamin Franklin. I remember the last page quoting Ben Franklin as saying while sitting in the sunshine as an old man, “Life has been good to me. I should like to live it all over again.”
The next line of the book told the tale—“Then the old man fell asleep.” Hebrews 4: 9-11 KJV states:
There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God. For he that is entered into his rest, he also hath ceased from his own works, as God did from his. Let us labour therefore to enter into that rest, least any man fall after the same example of unbelief.
So many of those who helped me along the way have entered their rest, and others get nearer each day. Thank you, Dear Reader, for the part you have played in my journey. After all, were it not for you, what reason would there be to write?
I hope you enjoy the following as you continue on your journey—may it always be pleasant.
Question of the Week #26:
When do you know you’re getting old? Answer: You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks.
Question of the Week #27:
What happens when chemists die? (See next week’s article in historicunioncounty.com for the answer.)
Laughs from Email:
I now know how it will all end for me—one of my kids will unplug my life support to charge their phone.
As I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death, I remind myself that you can’t always trust Google Maps.
When I was a kid I wanted to be older. This is not what I expected.
Where there’s a will, I want to be in it!
Just remember, once you're over the hill, you begin to pick up speed.
“I have successfully completed the 30-year transition from wanting to stay up late to just wanting to go to bed.” – Unknown
I admit, I have a tremendous sex drive. My boyfriend lives forty miles away. ‒ Phyllis Diller
When I say, “The other day,” I could be referring to any time between yesterday and 15 years ago.
Doug Sanders, professional golfer: “I'm working as hard as I can to get my life and my cash to run out at the same time. If I can just die after lunch Tuesday, everything will be perfect.”
Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment. ‒ Will Rogers