As a retired teacher (grades 2 through high school English for soldiers in DoDDS Germany) and the mother of 5,the book Nurture Shock compelled me. I laughed aloud at some of the research. I might have written several of them, others startled me with their unexpected twists.
I know we unintentionally motivate kids to lie. While teaching 7th grades I realized DoDDS wasn’t failing any junior high students so I initiated a policy of retesting. If a child failed a test on vocabulary or an essay I sent it home with a note asking the parents to review and retest their child. Kids stopped failing but I did catch one child cheating. I quietly put an x on the bottom of his page so he knew I knew. After class he said, “I just wanted Mom to be proud of me.” Ah yes.
I asked a quiet boy to throw his gum away. He insisted he didn’t have any. The next student found fresh gum shoved inside his text book. I’d embarrassed him and he did the first thing that came to mind. I had to cut a hole in 3 pages to get it out. I asked Mom to talk to him about how to better handle embarrassing moments.
My own children told a few whoppers to gain privacy. Their dad, a guidance counselor, and I both worked at their high school. I learned to reward the truth and encourage the feeling that a lie was an unfortunate choice they could deal with better.
I am somewhat dyslexic myself. I reverse words, (saying Jefferson when I mean Hamilton.) I’m sometimes astounded when a listener quotes me. I understand how children embarrass themselves and struggle to learn. I was a better teacher for it—but it was never easy. Teaching demanded my undivided attention. It was both tiring, and creative. I can’t think of another job I could have had I would be more proud of today.
My husband and I arrived in Germany single in 1961 and married in 1962. During summers and vacations we drove wherever we could get in Western Europe. We were in Berlin when Am. tanks faced Russian tanks. Being in Germany when the Wall went up and when the Wall came down gave us and our kids an enlarged perspective. We made friends of our German neighbors and we continue those attachments today.
Bob is Polish-American so we drove to the family farm in Poland from 1972 on. Our 5 children grew up interested in the world around them because our travels were risky enough that they didn’t dare tune out. We looked out for each other. We had very little money, but we were American and that meant a lot. In Czechoslovakia a machine gun carrying guard walked off his post to give us directions. In other countries people stepped forward to make sure we were safe and that we saw their most compelling sites.
In 1991, after the Wall came down, 4 of Bob’s Polish cousins asked if they could visit us to learn about the West. For 2 years they were in and out of our 3 bedroom apartment—sleeping on my son’s top bunk and in a bedroom they made from a closet. Bob got them work and collected their pay so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings.
Many nights our friends came to talk to them about how they could grow the dollars they’d earned back home. It was exciting, constructive and heady stuff. By the time DoDDS offered us each buy outs, the Poles had bought (for $5.00 each) 22 washers, dryers, stoves and refrigerators from Army excess. Soon they were importing used cars. Teaching children of our military spoke to our idealism, and helping the Polish relatives learn about Capitalism was exciting and fulfilling. Talk about being grateful to be American—I can’t tell you how grateful we are.
When Bob, our 2 youngest boys (born in our 40’s), and I, retired to Arizona in 1994 Bob was able to golf most days and I resumed writing. I’d written a novel in 1972 and taken it to the Bread Loaf Writers Conference where I had lunch with Isaac Asimov and was mentored by William Lederer. When I sent that novel to an agent he loved the chapters Lederer had critiqued, then he said, it fell apart. What I heard was Lederer was a good writer, I wasn’t. Besides, I realized I couldn’t keep my children safe and write too, I just couldn’t. I knew I could be a good parent but being a good writer was more iffy. I put aside long projects and limited myself to short stories and letters.
Since retirement I’ve completed a novel about an American family going into Poland that I paid a professional $1,500. to critique. He made a few squiggles and proclaimed it wonderful. I took it to a writer’s conference and was told the beginning was so stiff he hoped I hadn’t spent much time on it. I’d spent 8 years on that book. Of course, I’d overworked the beginning, but why hadn’t the critic for hire said that? First, I started over from scratch. When I called to protest he said he hadn’t noticed.
Now I’m writing about our years with the American Forces in Europe during the Cold War. It’s a bit odd because (for classes) I must write in 10 page increments, but I’ve laced the stories together and put several on my blog--wurzburggermany.blogspot.com.
My sister sent me a quote I carry in my wallet from an African farm woman. It says, “My strength is exhausted; only my wisdom remains.” I’ve never perceived myself as overly smart but I do feel wise.
Occasionally I’m moved to share my wisdom and I’m as startled as my audience. A 17 year old turned in a well written story about a miserable marriage. One by one the class pronounced her insightful and right on. I was the last to comment.
I said it was a well written piece but that I was astounded that a room full of free Americans would have such a low opinion of family relationships, marriage in particular.
The man in the story didn’t have a good thing to say about his mistress, his wife or his teen age children, not one. I asked how they thought a free person who had chosen his mate and knew about birth control could look at his family with hatred and disgust without even a memory of when they were the light of his life.
I understand a 17 year old not perceiving the benefits of a long-term relationship but there were older people in that class. I asked if they’d forgotten the knee bending love they felt for a new born child and their gratitude towards their partner for that precious child. I said the fun, trials, accomplishments and memories shared over time were treasures beyond compare and I thought they should start talking to their elders again. The sexual revolution seems to have stunted inter-generational conversation and to me, that’s a big loss—especially in hard times when our young need the encouragement elders are primed to give. Did we become so embarrassed by their promiscuity we relinquished our role in their lives? If so, I said, it was time to get past that.
Our class had a rousing discussion, the best the instructor said he’s monitored all year. The students seemed thrilled to have somebody scold them in the name of love and I was delighted to discover that my own marriage, 47 years old, left me compelled to speak up in its defense.
I feel strongly that my husband and I have contributed to the good of the world both through our work, our help for Bob’s cousins and the children we raised. We’re both well enough to travel and enjoy each day. Writing is great fun and Bob took over cooking once he retired. We never made a lot of money and sending 4 of our 5 through college was a real accomplishment for us. We don’t have money to throw away, but I have a group I meet at a near-by bakery daily and we keep each other going while Bob plays golf and mentors a young business man.
Our bachelor son, called to say his job was exhausting. I said, “Buddy, at your age I had 5 children and I taught full time. I took an hour after school to visit one of my German friends and share a good stiff coffee and a piece of cake. Then I made supper, got you all to do your homework and corrected papers. Listen to me, go have coffee and cake. You can do whatever you need to do, you simply have to decide what gets done well and what gets a lick and a promise. If you’d throw in a prayer once in awhile it wouldn’t hurt either.”
I was being funny, but really I wasn’t. When I think about it, it’s hard to believe I did all I know I did. My youth, my faith and my belief that we, as Americans, have so much to be grateful for we’re obligated to look out for others. So how could I not push myself?
I’ve reevaluated how we’ve spent our lives. Right now I’m busy writing letters on behalf of health care because we can’t just vote a man into office and think he can carry on. We must keep our wind under his sails. This is an exciting world we live in and the older I get the more I want to participate. Isn’t it odd what we learn when we set out to teach?
Carol O’Donnell-Knych
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