Teaching was my grandma Helen's life's work. I think she developed a calling for teaching long before she went back to school at the age of 43 to earn her Associate's degree, then her Bachelor's degree, and finally her Master's degree in Education at the age of 53. And I know she remained a teacher long after she retired from thirteen years of teaching in the Special Education classroom.
My grandma taught me how to read when I was three years old. She taught me the importance of knowing where your family comes from and the value in seeing something familiar through a different lens. She taught me to never accept that the way things are in the world is the way things have to be - except in nature. Her thousands of slides - mostly taken during her and my grandpa's years of traveling the country in their little Chinook camper - illustrated her belief that nature was perfect just as she found it.
In the last ten months of her life, she had the opportunity to live with my parents and my other grandmother. She taught my grandma Shirley how to play scrabble, assemble jigsaw puzzles, and do yoga. She taught all of us that dementia might take away your memory, but it doesn't take away your will to live, to be curious, to question the status quo.
The dementia crept into her life slowly over the last decade of her life. Yet, at 86 years old, she would sit there on the edge of her chair, studying the ticker at the bottom of the TV screen, asking questions about the latest news stories - especially the ones about human suffering in other parts of the world. She would look over at me and say, again and again, "We need to DO something about this!"
I remember one phone call I received from her years ago. I think I was still in high school. She was so fired up about some political decision somewhere. I don't remember the topic. All I remember was the passion in her voice when she said, "If I was younger, I'd be out there protesting this injustice. I'd probably get myself thrown in jail." I heard that same urgency in her voice just last month - reading that ticker on t.v., wondering why we weren't getting up to DO something to change the world.
That was my grandma, intensely passionate about teaching, life, and - most of all - her family. I know that there is a lot of her in me. I think other people have long seen in me what I am just beginning to discover myself - that passion can be passed down through generations.
This work of educational and social justice is complicated stuff. And there are days when I want to give up and pretend that I don't care so much about what's happening in the world around me.
And then I hear my grandma's voice - challenging me to keep asking the difficult questions. Or I see her with her camera stooped over the smallest wildflower on the side of some narrow backroad, trying to capture a picture of simple beauty.
And I remember that as hard as this journey can seem sometimes, it's an important one - full of signs of beauty everywhere.
Thanks for posting this heartfelt story about your grandma. She sounds like she was an amazing woman and teacher. I really found it inspirational because I've been considering going back to school to get a master's in Special Education. I already have a BA in communications, but it wasn't until a few years ago while subbing in NJ that I thought that education might be something that I would enjoy doing.
ReplyDeleteDuring my time as a substitute teacher, I was quite surprised to discover that I really seemed to get along well with the special ed kids. Many of my fellow subs tried to avoid those classes, while I really embraced them. In fact, I often found that I enjoyed the SE kids, more than the mainstream students. I always just assumed that it was my own struggle with ADD that gave me a different perspective and appreciation of those who might be a little different.
Anyway, so I'm seriously thinking about going back, but I often hide behind the "I'm too old" excuse, which is why I was really inspired by this story of your grandma.