The Story of My Life as a Teacher
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Story of my Life as a Teacher
Becoming a teacher was not my initial career goal. The Air Force aptitude test given in high school measured me to be an attorney. That was not my passion. My passion was fashion design, business management, and art.
When I graduated from college, my first degree was in Home Economics with a concentration in Marketing from Georgia College in Milledgeville, Georgia.
After trying my hand a retail management, I left because that career required working 60-hour weeks, days-nights-Sundays-weekends-and holidays for very little money. Although I was good at it, as a single mother, I worked way too many hours as at retail manager.
Next, I worked in funeral service with my father. I am the only female of our family that is a Funeral Director and Embalmer, but funeral service was not my passion. My father owns two funeral homes. One in Putnam County and the other in Baldwin County, so it is my family’s business. My children and I have lived above the funeral home in Milledgeville since 1984.
I went to funeral service school and I excelled. I graduated Vice-President of the 1989 Senior Class of Gupton-Jones College of Funeral Service in Decatur, Georgia with Academic Honors. I passed the National Board Exam for Funeral Service with a 92.6 while a passing score was 75. I am a Funeral Director and Embalmer in the State of Georgia, as a favor to my father.
Shortly after I graduated from Gupton-Jones, I started my tax preparation business. I was determined to use my talents to provide for my household. I love being a business-owner except the tax business was seasonal -January through April 15th. I needed a year round income to provide for my family.
As it happens, my mother was a teacher. I remember that she taught junior high and elementary school students. When I was in school at Sallie E. Davis Elementary School, each day after school let out I had to walk from the elementary school building to Boddie Junior High School building next door to go to my mother's classroom to wait until she got off from work.
Before passing away in 1977, she was a school teacher at Midway Elementary School. Later, I was told that she also coached women's basketball in Putnam County before coming to Baldwin County where she met and married my father. I am number seven of the nine children she gave birth to--all with my father.
Regarding education, I grew up in a teacher’s household. I grew up with teachers in my neighborhood and my church. These "old school" Southern black teachers were powerful, solid, well-respected people and they were all around me. My life as a child was infused with quality public education providers and positive self-esteem builders.
My "upbringing" exemplified the African proverb: "It takes a village to raise a child," and the pedagogy of connectedness. The pedagogy of connectedness was established upon rigorous standards of student achievement and character development. It was taught by ALL of the adults of the culture in an environment committed who achieved goals through their pursuit of excellence. This pedagogy has substantive and sustainable with social, emotional, mental, and spiritual components that are relevant for lifelong success. Failure, not trying, or giving up was never considered an option. The underlying connection to another African proverb: "When one succeeds, we all succeed," continues the concept of working together benefits all throughout this pedagogy. Succeeding together means working togetheI was six years old and in the first grade.
By the time my father came home to see after me,
I was a nervous wreck. I was shaking so badly that my father asked my mother, "What’s wrong with her?" They both laughed.
My first grade teacher, Mrs. Carrie Powell was my mother’s close friend. Mrs. Powell gave me the first and the only discipline I ever received at school. The day I was allowed to wear my nice church dress to school for picture day was the best and the worst day of my childhood. My dress had a "can-can" underskirt made of tulle and it made the dress bounce as I walked. Even though, Mrs. Powell had asked and then told me to sit down, the dress wanted me to dance and to bounce. Before I knew it, Mrs. Powell snatched me up in front of the whole class, flipped me over her lap, and she swatted my behind to get me to sit down. I was so hurt and embarrassed I cried crocodile tears.
Of course, Mrs. Powell told my mother, whose classroom was on the next hall. After school, my mother spanked me again and she made me change my clothes as soon as we got home. Then, my mother told my father. When my father came home, I was to get another punishment.
I was six years old and in the first grade. By the time my father came home to see after me, I was a nervous wreck. I was shaking so badly that my father asked my mother, "What’s wrong with her?" They both laughed.
I wondered, why are they laughing? Daddy took pity on me when he heard I had already been given two spankings. He gave me a light tap in my hand. I nearly passed out from the anticipation. He talked to me and told me to be good at school. Then Daddy gave me a hug and a kiss before leaving me to do the right thing. From that point on, I did.
That whole incident set me straight for twelve years. My six-year old mind figured out that all that punishment for bouncing around in a fancy dress was a high price to pay, and it was not worth it. I could not imagine the punishment for talking back, not doing your homework, or fighting at school. Later in life, when I heard the African saying: "It takes a village to raise a child." I completely understood why it works. Teachers were all around me. Mrs. Austin was another teacher friend of my mother’s. She taught first grade on another hall of the same school building, Carver Elementary. I first met Mrs. Austin with my mother. She had a deformed arm, a hair net and peppermint candy. She was always happy, positive, upbeat, and motivational. Later my mother sent me on errands to Mrs. Austin’s room. Many afternoons, I would walk to Mrs. Austin’s room to visit. I liked Mrs. Austin. Almost every afternoon she gave me a peppermint candy. The walls of her class room were always decorated and covered with motivational statements. One mantra on her wall I remember vividly is: "Can’t-- is a joker too lazy to work." I know that Mrs. Austin believed that because despite her disability, her classroom was one of the most decorated classrooms in the building.
There were countless teachers all around me all the time. At home, at church, and in the neighborhood where I live. Someone once counted that in the eight block radius of where I live as many as 30 educators also made their homes. There was Mrs. Ellabena Lee, Mrs. Bessie Butts, Mrs. Louise Lofton, Mrs. Phelps, Mrs. Slater, Mrs. Frances Lattimore and Mrs. Naomi Brannon. These are some of the names I remember.
These women were all strong and capable educators who could transform the most unruly, disrespectful child into an obedient, cooperative student without punishment, without threats, and they did not break a sweat. I now realize that my philosophy of education was shaped and colored by being around these educated, purposeful women. I observed each of their unique special talents on a regular basis. I observed them in action as they produced plays and assemblies, as they managed classes and individual students with skill and precision, and as they graded papers, kept Roll Books, and distributed report cards. They became part of me without my realizing it.
I became a teacher somewhere between Funeral service, Retail management and tax preparation at the behest of my father. I suspect that it was his homage to my mother after she died. He constantly encouraged me to become a teacher because it is an honorable profession, and ... because out of their nine children together, I look the most like her.
In between careers, while not sure of what I wanted to do with my life, I started to work as a Substitute teacher. Each time that I stepped into a classroom to replace the teacher, I grew to love the profession and the positive impact upon lives more and more. And, I found that I was good at managing classes and sharing knowledge. It was then that I decided to convert my Bachelor of Arts in Home Economics into the launch pad for my teaching career.
Over the 14 years of my teaching career, I became known to the parents of my students, and to my students for my ability to manage classes, for my student’s art work and for my fantastic bulletin boards. As a Special Education teacher, I would often receive students with learning difficulties, low self-esteem, and behavior problems. I gave them the same love, respect and boundaries I saw my mother and her teacher friends use and it worked!
When it came to motivating students, that task was easy because it fell right down my alley. Art was my key! Everybody loves to draw and create, so crayons, paints, and glue became this new teacher’s best friend, along with Dr. Harry K. Wong’s book, "First Days of School: How to be an Effective Teacher."
All in all, I would say that my fourteen years, working as an elementary Special Education Teacher were very successful. Many years later, my students and their parents would often surprise me with acts of gratitude and appreciation because they felt my classroom was the turning point for their education. The work and service accomplished in my classroom is an evolution of the perseverance, inventiveness, and strategies I learned via osmosis by being around solid, stable, resilient educators such as my mother and her friends.
This is the beginning of my story...
Becoming a teacher was not my initial career goal. The Air Force aptitude test given in high school measured me to be an attorney. That was not my passion. My passion was fashion design, business management, and art.
When I graduated from college, my first degree was in Home Economics with a concentration in Marketing from Georgia College in Milledgeville, Georgia.
After trying my hand a retail management, I left because that career required working 60-hour weeks, days-nights-Sundays-weekends-and holidays for very little money. Although I was good at it, as a single mother, I worked way too many hours as at retail manager.
Next, I worked in funeral service with my father. I am the only female of our family that is a Funeral Director and Embalmer, but funeral service was not my passion. My father owns two funeral homes. One in Putnam County and the other in Baldwin County, so it is my family’s business. My children and I have lived above the funeral home in Milledgeville since 1984.
I went to funeral service school and I excelled. I graduated Vice-President of the 1989 Senior Class of Gupton-Jones College of Funeral Service in Decatur, Georgia with Academic Honors. I passed the National Board Exam for Funeral Service with a 92.6 while a passing score was 75. I am a Funeral Director and Embalmer in the State of Georgia, as a favor to my father.
Shortly after I graduated from Gupton-Jones, I started my tax preparation business. I was determined to use my talents to provide for my household. I love being a business-owner except the tax business was seasonal -January through April 15th. I needed a year round income to provide for my family.
As it happens, my mother was a teacher. I remember that she taught junior high and elementary school students. When I was in school at Sallie E. Davis Elementary School, each day after school let out I had to walk from the elementary school building to Boddie Junior High School building next door to go to my mother's classroom to wait until she got off from work.
Before passing away in 1977, she was a school teacher at Midway Elementary School. Later, I was told that she also coached women's basketball in Putnam County before coming to Baldwin County where she met and married my father. I am number seven of the nine children she gave birth to--all with my father.
Regarding education, I grew up in a teacher’s household. I grew up with teachers in my neighborhood and my church. These "old school" Southern black teachers were powerful, solid, well-respected people and they were all around me. My life as a child was infused with quality public education providers and positive self-esteem builders.
My "upbringing" exemplified the African proverb: "It takes a village to raise a child," and the pedagogy of connectedness. The pedagogy of connectedness was established upon rigorous standards of student achievement and character development. It was taught by ALL of the adults of the culture in an environment committed who achieved goals through their pursuit of excellence. This pedagogy has substantive and sustainable with social, emotional, mental, and spiritual components that are relevant for lifelong success. Failure, not trying, or giving up was never considered an option. The underlying connection to another African proverb: "When one succeeds, we all succeed," continues the concept of working together benefits all throughout this pedagogy. Succeeding together means working togetheI was six years old and in the first grade.
By the time my father came home to see after me,
I was a nervous wreck. I was shaking so badly that my father asked my mother, "What’s wrong with her?" They both laughed.
My first grade teacher, Mrs. Carrie Powell was my mother’s close friend. Mrs. Powell gave me the first and the only discipline I ever received at school. The day I was allowed to wear my nice church dress to school for picture day was the best and the worst day of my childhood. My dress had a "can-can" underskirt made of tulle and it made the dress bounce as I walked. Even though, Mrs. Powell had asked and then told me to sit down, the dress wanted me to dance and to bounce. Before I knew it, Mrs. Powell snatched me up in front of the whole class, flipped me over her lap, and she swatted my behind to get me to sit down. I was so hurt and embarrassed I cried crocodile tears.
Of course, Mrs. Powell told my mother, whose classroom was on the next hall. After school, my mother spanked me again and she made me change my clothes as soon as we got home. Then, my mother told my father. When my father came home, I was to get another punishment.
I was six years old and in the first grade. By the time my father came home to see after me, I was a nervous wreck. I was shaking so badly that my father asked my mother, "What’s wrong with her?" They both laughed.
I wondered, why are they laughing? Daddy took pity on me when he heard I had already been given two spankings. He gave me a light tap in my hand. I nearly passed out from the anticipation. He talked to me and told me to be good at school. Then Daddy gave me a hug and a kiss before leaving me to do the right thing. From that point on, I did.
That whole incident set me straight for twelve years. My six-year old mind figured out that all that punishment for bouncing around in a fancy dress was a high price to pay, and it was not worth it. I could not imagine the punishment for talking back, not doing your homework, or fighting at school. Later in life, when I heard the African saying: "It takes a village to raise a child." I completely understood why it works. Teachers were all around me. Mrs. Austin was another teacher friend of my mother’s. She taught first grade on another hall of the same school building, Carver Elementary. I first met Mrs. Austin with my mother. She had a deformed arm, a hair net and peppermint candy. She was always happy, positive, upbeat, and motivational. Later my mother sent me on errands to Mrs. Austin’s room. Many afternoons, I would walk to Mrs. Austin’s room to visit. I liked Mrs. Austin. Almost every afternoon she gave me a peppermint candy. The walls of her class room were always decorated and covered with motivational statements. One mantra on her wall I remember vividly is: "Can’t-- is a joker too lazy to work." I know that Mrs. Austin believed that because despite her disability, her classroom was one of the most decorated classrooms in the building.
There were countless teachers all around me all the time. At home, at church, and in the neighborhood where I live. Someone once counted that in the eight block radius of where I live as many as 30 educators also made their homes. There was Mrs. Ellabena Lee, Mrs. Bessie Butts, Mrs. Louise Lofton, Mrs. Phelps, Mrs. Slater, Mrs. Frances Lattimore and Mrs. Naomi Brannon. These are some of the names I remember.
These women were all strong and capable educators who could transform the most unruly, disrespectful child into an obedient, cooperative student without punishment, without threats, and they did not break a sweat. I now realize that my philosophy of education was shaped and colored by being around these educated, purposeful women. I observed each of their unique special talents on a regular basis. I observed them in action as they produced plays and assemblies, as they managed classes and individual students with skill and precision, and as they graded papers, kept Roll Books, and distributed report cards. They became part of me without my realizing it.
I became a teacher somewhere between Funeral service, Retail management and tax preparation at the behest of my father. I suspect that it was his homage to my mother after she died. He constantly encouraged me to become a teacher because it is an honorable profession, and ... because out of their nine children together, I look the most like her.
In between careers, while not sure of what I wanted to do with my life, I started to work as a Substitute teacher. Each time that I stepped into a classroom to replace the teacher, I grew to love the profession and the positive impact upon lives more and more. And, I found that I was good at managing classes and sharing knowledge. It was then that I decided to convert my Bachelor of Arts in Home Economics into the launch pad for my teaching career.
Over the 14 years of my teaching career, I became known to the parents of my students, and to my students for my ability to manage classes, for my student’s art work and for my fantastic bulletin boards. As a Special Education teacher, I would often receive students with learning difficulties, low self-esteem, and behavior problems. I gave them the same love, respect and boundaries I saw my mother and her teacher friends use and it worked!
When it came to motivating students, that task was easy because it fell right down my alley. Art was my key! Everybody loves to draw and create, so crayons, paints, and glue became this new teacher’s best friend, along with Dr. Harry K. Wong’s book, "First Days of School: How to be an Effective Teacher."
All in all, I would say that my fourteen years, working as an elementary Special Education Teacher were very successful. Many years later, my students and their parents would often surprise me with acts of gratitude and appreciation because they felt my classroom was the turning point for their education. The work and service accomplished in my classroom is an evolution of the perseverance, inventiveness, and strategies I learned via osmosis by being around solid, stable, resilient educators such as my mother and her friends.
This is the beginning of my story...