Today in Cincinnati, they say farewell to Mrs. Anne Crowe, nothing less than amazing teacher, and one of the best I experienced in my school years. She passed away last Friday. I was in her 8th grade Civics and Ohio History classes at St. Bartholomew School.
I was like Horshack, the over-eager kid from "Welcome Back, Kotter," looking to participate at every turn. She knew I had a serious interest in current events, government, and history, and she encouraged it. (However, I do remember one day, discussing current events, she asked a question. I put my hand up...and she said, "Does someone OTHER than Bob know the answer?")
Mrs. Crowe was passionate about her work, energetic, and very funny. It was a joy to be in her class every day and I learned a lot. Good preparation for high school, too.
The news is sad...another link to the past who is gone now. My thoughts are with her family and all who knew her. I regret I can't be there for the Mass of Christian Burial today. But I am spending some time remembering her and talking about it with friends.
But I can say...it's not goodbye, Mrs. Crowe. We'll see you later.
Thought, reflection, and comment from a 50-something husband and father in the Midwest.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Learning to Ride Without Training Wheels
My six-year old son has been asking to take the training wheels off his bike. We had a nice day weather-wise today, so we decided it was time to give it a try.
I was there to hold on and catch him. He was able to go a few feet before tipping over. There was a lot of "I can't do this." I told him he shouldn't say that, because if he does, then he'll never learn. I also found myself getting impatient.
It's funny. I thought back to how, in various endeavors, I myself said "I can't do this." And yet, when I kept at it and put my mind to it, I could. I remembered back to early 1987, when, as a 16-year old, my father was trying to teach me to drive stick shift. There was a lot of "I can't do this" then on my part, too. I frustrated him, a lot.
But, somehow, I kept at it, and got the hang of it. Now, all these years later, I find myself telling my son not to give up, to keep practicing, and that he can do it. I have to tell him what I have to still remind myself to do.
I was there to hold on and catch him. He was able to go a few feet before tipping over. There was a lot of "I can't do this." I told him he shouldn't say that, because if he does, then he'll never learn. I also found myself getting impatient.
It's funny. I thought back to how, in various endeavors, I myself said "I can't do this." And yet, when I kept at it and put my mind to it, I could. I remembered back to early 1987, when, as a 16-year old, my father was trying to teach me to drive stick shift. There was a lot of "I can't do this" then on my part, too. I frustrated him, a lot.
But, somehow, I kept at it, and got the hang of it. Now, all these years later, I find myself telling my son not to give up, to keep practicing, and that he can do it. I have to tell him what I have to still remind myself to do.
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