Not all teaching happens in the classroom
When I was 5-years-old, my mother died of a kidney-related illness that I'm fairly certain would be curable today. Her death left me, my two older brothers and toddler sister in the care of my grieving, over-worked dad and his aging parents. Within a very short time, our father married a church friend who lived down the street from us, a fourth-grade school teacher. Though our new mother took a few years leave from the classroom to "get us trained" -- as I later heard her tell complete strangers -- she never for a minute stopped teaching. On her 80th birthday, I presented her with a list of 80 things she had taught me. At the time I compiled that list, I was sure it told the story. Now, some years later, I realize it was little more than a preamble to the massive lesson plan she created to teach me about how to be a grownup -- someone who, on most days, is able to do most of the grownup things I need to do in a way that brings me happiness, without doing harm to others, while also contributing to the "common good" that we love to talk about at United Way. That this mother/ teacher not only "trained" me, but also my two brothers, my sister and OUR children, along with hundreds upon hundreds of fourth-graders in Lawrence Township, is a realization that remains a jaw-dropping wonder to me. That she did it while making most of our clothes, putting a balanced meal on the table every day, leading church youth choirs, organizing family celebrations, taking us on vacations to historic places, involving us in scouting, music lessons and 4-H, earning and saving enough money to send us all to college and so much more, is beyond credible. But it's true. When she died, many of her students came to the calling to tell us how she mattered to them. If Naomi Ruth McKenzie Newkirk was not a difference maker in this world, I can't fathom who would qualify.
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