Tag Archives: teacher

AS TIME GOES BY, TICK-TOCK, TICK TOCK

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Life can be difficult at times. Sometimes you can become so overcome with fear and frustration you don’t have the strength to get out of bed. I have to admit that I’ve always been fearful of life’s challenges. I never felt confident about anything. I always felt overwhelmed. I can remember feeling this way since I was a young child. I often overheard my siblings talking about me behind my back. And even my parents complained about my fears. 

It was never a choice for me. I didn’t choose to be afraid. My first memory of being afraid was the day I started first grade. I am the youngest child in my family. I had much older siblings. They always seemed to be happy to be going to school. I couldn’t imagine myself walking out the front door and walking by myself to the school. And then having to come face to face with a whole lot of children I didn’t know. And then having to go to school when the bell rang.

During the last few weeks of the Summer before starting school, I began to feel terrified. I started getting stomach aches every morning. My mother finally took me to the doctor’s to see if there was something physical going on with me. After the doctor examined me, he said, Well, Kathy is physically healthy. I have no doubt that the stomach aches and difficulty sleeping are related to her fear of going to school. He told my mother that many children have this fear. That it’s normal. And I would be fine once I started school and made some friends, and realized there was really nothing to fear.

But that’s not what happened. On the first day of school, I was absolutely filled with dread. There were too many children yelling and screaming and running all over the schoolyard. And I didn’t know any of them. My best friend was a year younger than I was and wouldn’t be going to school for another year. I stood in the middle of the schoolyard. I didn’t know what I should do. It was so noisy, and the kids seemed out of control. They were running in every direction and screaming and jumping. It was all too much. I wanted to go home. I started crying.

One of the teachers came over to me and said,” What’s the matter?” I just started crying even more. She took my hand and said, “Let’s just find a nice quiet place, and we’ll have a little talk. And you can tell me what’s going on.”

I followed her, and we walked to the far side of the playground that was opposite the street. The cars were flying by at an amazing rate of speed, and I let out a yelp. And tears started rolling down my face once again. The teacher said, “Here, take this tissue and wipe your face and then take a deep breath. And try to calm down.”

I took a deep breath and then looked down at the ground. I didn’t want to talk to her; I wanted to go home. She said, “OK, now try to tell me why you are so upset.”

I looked up at her and said, “I hate it here. I want to go home. I want my mother.”

“What’s your name, dear?

“My name is Kathy. I want to go home. I want my mother.”

“Oh, well, a lot of children feel that way on their first day of school. But you will get used to it. You will make a lot of new friends. And you will learn a lot. So, how about you try and take it one day at a time? And any time you are upset or afraid, you can come to talk to me. My name is Ms. Norris. And as a matter of fact, I will be your teacher this year. And I promise you things will get better.”

I looked up at her, and I said quietly, “OK.”

“Alright, in a few moments, it will be time to go into the classroom. And you will be assigned a seat and given books. Some day soon, you will begin learning to read. And I promise you you will absolutely love reading. OK.”

“OK.” She said, when the bell rings, you get in line with all the other children in my class. And stand there quietly while the older children say the Pledge of Allegiance.” You stand quietly because you haven’t learned the words yet. But, soon you will learn them. OK?”

I stood there quietly, waiting for the bell to ring. But, just before that happened, two little girls came over to me and said, “ Hi, what’s your name?” Our names are Irene, and she’s Christine. Do you want to be friends?”

I stared at them for a few minutes with my mouth hanging open. I was afraid to say anything. Because I thought this was some kind of joke. Because my older sister pretended to be my friend sometime, and then they would laugh and me. And call me a big baby.

They didn’t say anything else, so I finally said, “My name is Kathy. I live down the street. This is my first day of school. I’m afraid I want to go home. I hate it here. It’s too loud here. I don’t know anybody.” And then I just stared at them.

“Kathy, you know us now. So, you can hang around with us. And today is a half day. That means we can go home at lunchtime. And come back tomorrow. OK?”

I looked at them and said quietly, “OK.”

Irene and Christine stood next to me and talked and talked without taking a breath. And then a bell rang, and everyone started running and getting into a line. Christine said, “Kathy, follow us, and get in line. We’re going into the classroom and sitting at a desk.”

“OK, I said, and then I began chewing my fingernails, which is something I do when I’m scared, which is most of the time. I wished I was home at my mom’s or my best friend’s house. She didn’t have to go to school because she is younger than me. I wish I were younger. My nose started running because of crying, and I didn’t have a tissue. So, it ran down my face. So, I rubbed it on my arm. Some big boy said, “Look at that kid wiping her runny nose on her sleeve.”

Everybody started slowly walking forward in a line. And then we got up to the school and started marching inside. I wanted to run away as fast as I could. But I didn’t. I just kept following the line into the horrible brick building. It was an old building; the walls were painted a weird green color in the hallway. I saw a water fountain. And I ran over to it to get a drink. I heard someone yell, “Get back in line. They were looking straight at me. So, I got back in line. We slowly made our way to the classroom. The teacher who talked to me outside said,” When I call out your name, take the next available seat. Understand?” Everyone said, “Yes, teacher.” At the same time. Not me. I wasn’t going to talk until someone told me to.

Finally, the teacher called out my name. She said,” Please take the next available seat please.”

I looked up and down the aisle and didn’t know where to go. I felt like I was going to start crying again. And Then I heard a voice whispering in my ear. It was Irene. Just walk down the aisle where kids are sitting and sit in the next empty seat. And that is exactly what I did. And the next thing I knew, I was sitting at the desk, and Christine and Irene were sitting behind me. I took a deep breath.

The morning went by slowly. I had to go to the bathroom. But I didn’t know where it was, or if I was allowed to go or had to wait until I got home. I couldn’t sit still. The next thing I knew, the teacher was standing next to me and said, “So, what is the problem? Why can’t you sit still?”

I didn’t want to look at her. I was afraid I would start crying again. So, I whispered, I have to go to the bathroom.” She said, “You have to learn to speak up. Say it loud enough for everyone to hear you. “So, I did, I yelled. I have to go pee.” The teacher said, OK, make a right outside the classroom door and walk down the hall until you see a sign next to the door with a picture of a girl. That’s the girl’s bathroom. And then come right back here.” She said in a loud voice. And all the kids started laughing.

I got up from my seat and walk down the hall. I saw the sign with the drawing of a girl on it. But I didn’t go into the ladies’ room. I saw the door that we came in from the schoolyard, and I went out the door. I was outside. I decided I didn’t want to go to school anymore. And I ran all the way home and ran into the house. My mother was in the kitchen, and she said, “Kathy, you are home early. Are you alright?”

“No, I have to go to the bathroom and the teacher kept yelling at me. I hate school and I’m not going back, ever.” And that is when I ran into our bathroom and locked the door. After a few minutes, my mother came knocking at the door. She said, Kathy, please come out. The school called and they said you have to come back to class and stay until lunchtime.”

I finally opened the door and my mother was standing there waiting. She said, “Please come into the kitchen so we can talk. She gave me a glass of water and said, “Kathy, everyone has to go to school. It is scary in the beginning. But, you will get used to it. You will learn a lot of new things like reading. And you will make some new friends and they can come over and visit with you sometimes after school. Come in and eat your lunch. And after that, you will have to go back to school. And stay until three o’clock. And then you can come home again. You are not allowed to run away. “Do you understand?”

“I looked at my mother and said, “Yes, I understand. I hate school, I hate the teacher.”

“ As I said, “You will get used to it. But, you have to go to school, it is a law. Now, how about eating your lunch and I will walk you back to school and your classroom.”

When my mother dropped me off at school. All the kids were out in the schoolyard running around. They all looked alike I didn’t see my new friends right away. And I started to feel scared again. And then I heard Christine and Irene calling out my name, “Kathy, come play with us.”

So, that is what I did. We played together until we were told we had to come back into the classroom. I sat at the desk the teacher told me to sit in. I looked around and I noticed some of the other kids looked kind of scared too. So, I knew I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like it there. But, they were listening to the teacher. So, I tried to do the same thing. I didn’t understand everything she said, but I tried hard to understand her.

It seemed like the afternoon went on and on. I started feeling sleepy. And I felt my eyes closing. The next thing I knew the teacher was rapping a stick on my desk. And she said,” none of that. Go to bed earlier tonight, if you are still tired. You are not allowed to take naps during class.”

It seemed like there were a lot of rules in school. It was only the end of the first day and I was sick of it. When I got home my mother said,” so, Kathy how was school?” I hate it. But, I did make two new friends. And they asked if they could come over here after school one day and play.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. Do you have any homework?”
“Homework, you meant I have to do work at home for school. That’s not fair.”

“Well, Kathy life doesn’t always seem fair. But, it’s all about growing up to become an adult and being able someday to take care of yourself.”

“Do you mean I’m not always going to live with you and Dad?”
“Well, probably not. When you become a grown-up you will eventually want to have your own apartment or house.”

I looked at her like she was out of her mind. I knew I would always want to live with my mom and dad. Why wouldn’t I”

As it turned out all the things my teachers and my parents told me about going to school, learning to read, and growing up and getting a job were true.

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AND THEY’RE OFF

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As far back as I remember in my childhood, I recall my father talking about the Garden State Race Track in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. My father was a man who liked to gamble, play cards and bet on the horses. For years he bought lottery tickets. He even bought 55O cards from the Catholic Church. On one occasion, my mother and my father celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary, and they spent a weekend at a hotel on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City. My father played the slots and played cards. The trip was a wedding anniversary gift for my parents from my siblings and me. It was the first time my mother actually had a vacation of any sort.

I recall my father calling his bookie on our kitchen phone and placing bets. And occasionally, my father would bring my mother and me with him when he drove into Philly at night to place a bet directly with his bookie. For my mother and myself, it was an outing to the city. As we rarely went anywhere out of town, let alone visiting Philadelphia.  My father- 1960's

But one of the most outstanding memories I have is of my father and the Garden State Race Track, which was located in Cherry Hill, New Jersey—a town next to Maple Shade, New Jersey, where I grew up. My father won a photography contest through the local newspaper, the Courier Post. He took two photographs of a race at the Garden State Track. One was a panoramic image of the crowd watching the horses take off, shouting and screaming and jumping up and down. The second shot was of that same crowd looking in the opposite direction tearing up their tickets and throwing them in the air, and then slowly floating down to the grounds if they lost their bets. My father submitted these pictures, and they appeared on the front page of the Courier Post, and he won prize money.

I don’t know how much money my dad won. But it was probably more money than he ever had in his pocket at any one time. And so my father invited all my siblings, including myself, to go out to dinner at a restaurant that my sister-in-law’s brother owned. It was the one and only time that we all went out to dinner together with my parents. And it is one of my best and fondest memories of my family together and laughing and enjoying our time together as a family.

The Garden State track spurred a lot of activity and entertainment-oriented growth in Cherry Hill. In addition to the Garden State Track, a man whose name was Mori developed the Race Tack. He built the Cherry Hill Inn and the Cherry Hill FarmLogdge, and then finally, the Cherry Hill Shopping Center. Not to mention the fabulous and luxurious Rickshaw Inn on the opposite side of the Garden State Park Race Track. And eventually, The Latin Casino, where stars such as Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Liberace appeared to entertain the locals near and far. 

And addition, I took an adult night class at Cherry Hill High School, and it was being taught by none other than Jack Engelhard, the writer. He is known for his love of horse racing at the Cherry Hill Race Track and for writing books such as The Horseman, which became almost automatically a best seller, Indecent Proposal, and many more. It was his night class that inspired me to continue writing and growing as a writer. He often spoke of his love of horse races and the Garden State Track. And I have been doing just that. I have written a book and over three hundred short stories. You can find these stories at:https://susanaculver.com.

And then, I was offered an opportunity to show some of my Art Work at the Garden State Track, and I jumped at the chance. You can see one of my more popular artworks, a drawing illustrated in this blog. It is called “The Race.”.

The Race

So, as you can see, my father’s love of Horse Racing and gambling has been an inspiration of sorts. Although I had never been a gambler at heart before I moved to North Carolina, I hit the gambling machines at Trump Casino in Atlantic and took home $900.00 right out of his {Trump’s} pocket, you could say. So, when you play, you win some, you lose some. But you just got to know when it’s time to fold up those cards and hit the road. At the same time, you have more than lint in your pockets.

And maybe sometime in the future, before my time runs out, I’ll find my way back to Cherry Hill and revisit my father’s favorite place on the planet. Although it has changed and evolved over time since my Dad passed away, he probably wouldn’t recognize it. So, maybe it’s better to keep those memories safe and hidden away. I will always treasure those memories of my father and what an interesting and complex man he was. He was a voracious reader on every subject, including Eastern religions, although he never went to church.

My father inspired me with his example to continue to learn and grow and be creative. In fact, his lifelong example of his thirst for knowledge inspired me to go to college when I was thirty-six. I applied to all the art schools in the Philadelphia area and was accepted at all of them. I chose to attend Temple University, Tyler School of Art. And I graduated at forty in the top ten percent of Temple’s graduating class. It was one of the best experiences I ever had and one that I am immensely proud of. And I want to thank my father for his example of continuing to grow and learn throughout my life.

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ONLY TIME WILL TELL

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The girl looked very young but there was something about her that chilled me to the bone. She was somewhat smaller than the average ten-year-old child. So at first, I thought she might be younger. She had dark circles under her eyes. Everything about her exuded anger and sadness and defeat. Her shoulders were hunched. Her lips were pursed tightly. She shuffled into my office. She had an expression that looked both defiant and defeated at the same time. It was clear that here was an extremely unhappy young girl.

I stepped forward and took her hand in mine. Her hand was warm to the touch. Unlike her stare which was cold. “Shall we go into my office and have a seat?”

She walked into my office and looked around and said, “so you’re a doctor. But what kind of doctor are you? Your office doesn’t look anything like my regular doctor’s office where I usually go for a check-up.”

I was somewhat taken aback by her demeanor and the maturity of her question. “Amelia please take a seat. Well, Amelia, your mother has explained to me that you are having a hard time adjusting to school. Is that true? Are you having a hard time getting used to being in school and making friends?”

Amelia looks up at me and then over at the chair and she says, “I ‘d rather stand.”

I responded, “please take a seat, Amelia.”

She glared at me. Are you were having some difficulty adjusting to school? What do you think is the problem?”

“I don’t have a problem. The other kids are annoying. They make too much noise. It’s hard to hear the teacher. They can’t seem to sit quietly in their seats. They interrupt the teacher. One kid is always raising his hand to ask stupid questions that have nothing to do with what the teacher is talking about.”

“So this kind of behavior makes you feel mad. Is that correct?”

“Yes, of course, it makes me angry. What did you think? Wouldn’t it make you angry if your patients kept interrupting you while you were talking?”

“Well, Amelia, sometimes people have to ask questions when they don’t understand what is being said? Or sometimes they ask questions out of curiosity.”

Amelia stared straight into my eyes. And I could tell she was now angry at me because I offered an alternate reason than what she said. In fact, it seemed as if Amelia was having difficulty dealing with authority if they didn’t agree with her point of view. She seemed to have little patience for the less advanced students in her class.

“Amelia, tell me how you feel right now.”

“I feel mad.”

“And what do you want to do when you’re angry?”

“I want to tell you to shut up. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“What happens in your classroom when one of the other students disagrees with you?”

“I get really mad. I want to hit them. Usually, I just sit there and don’t say anything else. And then later if we are out in the schoolyard. I go over and tell them they need to shut up. If they say anything else I hit them or pinch them or kick them in the leg.”

“And then what happens?”

“My teacher or an aid comes over and takes me to the principal’s office and I get in trouble. They call one of my parents and they have to come to the school and take me home. This last time they told my mother I couldn’t come back to school for a week or until she took me to the doctor. I guess that’s why I’m here talking to you since you’re not a real doctor.”

“There are different kinds of doctors Amelia. I am a doctor that treats children and adolescents and sometimes families that are having difficulty functioning in school and at home sometimes. I talk to them and they tell me how they are feeling and what’s going on in their lives. What kinds of things are happening in your life Amelia outside of school? Can you tell me what are things like at home?”

Amelia glares at the doctor. And if looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor just from her look of hate and resentment. “Amelia I know it’s difficult to talk about things that are happening that you have no control over. Can you please try and tell me? I promise that this is just between me and you. And that I will find a way to make things better for you, at school and at home. Do you think you can trust me?”

“No, why should I? No one ever tells me the truth? When I ask my mom or dad if everything is OK they always say, yes. But then later at night, I can hear them yelling at one another. So, I know they’re lying to me. How can I trust someone that lies to me?”

“Amelia, I can understand why you don’t trust them. But they probably think they are protecting you by not telling you the whole truth. Perhaps it would help if your parents came in with you the next time you come to see me. And then you can all try to talk to each other about what is really going on. What do you think?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Amelia, let’s make a deal shall we? Can you promise to try to behave in the classroom if I can have your parents come in with you on your next visit to talk about everything that is happening in your family?”

“I don’t know. They might both get angry at me for telling you what is happening at home.”

“Well, it’s true. They might get mad at first. But maybe after they come here and you all talk together, things will improve at home. We can create a plan to deal with stress and learn how to discuss things without fighting. What do you think? Don’t you think if things at home got better you wouldn’t feel so upset at school all the time?”

Amelia looked at me and nodded her head up and down. And a tear rolled down her cheek and down her chin. “OK Amelia, I’m going to ask you to go sit in the waiting room while I call your mother in and I have a little conversation with her. Don’t worry she won’t be mad at you. She wants things to get better for you. Or she wouldn’t have brought you here to talk to me.”

Amelia looked at me and I could see a glimmer of hope come into her eyes as she nodded her head up and down. The next time Amelia had an appointment her parents came in with her. I spoke to her parents first. They both related how much they loved Amelia but that she could be a difficult child. Because she was so moody. They also admitted that as a couple they had their own difficulties.

Their problems were complex and would take a long time to overcome but I believed it was possible. We discussed different tactics they might try to resolve their issues. This included couple’s therapy. They also related that there were financial problems that evolved over several years. When one of them had to stay at home with Amelia before she was old enough to attend school. And they couldn’t afford child care and didn’t have family who could care for Amelia while they worked.

I gave them a name of a family financial advisor who would help them set up a budget and they could start paying off some of their long-standing bills including credit card debt. They had only been paying the minimum payment each month and their debt would never be resolved. They blamed each other for the debt. But in reality, they both used credit cards whenever they ran short of money.

The next time I saw Amelia she seemed less stressed and less angry. “How are things at home Amelia?”

“I guess it is getting better. My parents aren’t fighting as much. And my mother found a job that pays more and my dad was able to change from his night shift job to day time. So they see each other more. They still have arguments, but not every day and they aren’t screaming anymore. They are trying to talk to each other when they are not tired.”

“And how are you doing in school?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten in trouble since the last time I saw you. I still don’t have any friends. I don’t know how to make friends. I don’t think anyone likes me. I’m trying to do all my school work. But sometimes I need help because I don’t know how to do the math or spell.”

“Alright Amelia, it seems like things are getting better. And that is great. I know that you are doing your best. I believe I will talk to your teachers and your parent about getting a tutor to help you catch up with your work. Especially the subjects you struggle with like math and spelling. What do you think?”

“OK, but I don’t want any of the kids to know how stupid I am. I don’t want them to know I have to have a tutor. They will make fun of me. They hate me.”

“No one will know about the tutors except your parents and teachers. And they are not allowed to tell anyone else about it. Does that make you feel better? And finally, I want you to know that the other kids don’t hate you. But it will take time for you to make friends with the kids in school. Why don’t you find one kid who doesn’t have any friends and talk to them.”

“Well, there is one girl who just started going to school there. She doesn’t know anyone yet, maybe I could try being friends with her. Her name is Samantha. She came from another state. Her father is in the military and they have to move around a lot,”

“That seems like an excellent idea, Amelia. I’m so proud of how well you’re doing. Keep up the good work. Can you ask your mother to come in? I would like to talk to her for a few minutes before you go?”

“OK, bye Doctor Freedman. See you next time.”

“Good morning. how are you? Amelia seems to be doing much better in school and she is being cooperative with her treatment. She has agreed to have a tutor to help with her school work. I think once she starts doing better in school her negative feelings about herself will start to resolve. She is a bright young lady but she has low self-esteem and she believes all the kids hate her.”

“I know doctor, but her behavior has improved immensely and she is being more cooperative in school. Her grades are going up a little. I have been trying to help her with her homework and studying. I think a tutor would be a big help. Thank you for arranging for that.”

“You’re welcome. How are you and your husband doing?”

“Since we are on a budget now. We are slowly getting the bills paid and even some of the credit card debt. My boss says that my performance at work has improved and he is considering giving me a better job and a raise. So now my husband and I are not so stressed out about money and we rarely have arguments at all. We try to discuss things calmly instead of yelling at each other.”

“I have to say I am impressed by how much progress you have all made. I think if things continue in the direction you are going Amelia will not have to come here to speak to me as often. Perhaps you will only need to come once a month for the next six months. And then maybe every six months unless she develops some new issue she needs to talk about.”

“Really doctor, that’s wonderful. I can’t thank you enough. Amelia is like a new girl. She hasn’t gotten in trouble at school for weeks, she is doing her homework. And best of all she doesn’t seem so sad and angry anymore.”

“I’m so happy to hear that. I want you to know that if any problems arise that you need to discuss please feel free to contact me at any time. Please tell your husband that he can call me at any time as well. Take care until I see you next time.”

“Thank you doctor for all you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome, but the fact is that you and your husband and Amelia love each other and did all the hard work yourselves. But I was so happy to help you in whatever way I was able to. Take care. I’ll see you soon.

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THAT WHICH DOESN’T KILL YOU MAKES YOU STRONGER

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Lizbeth walks slowly into the classroom with her head down. Her blond hair hung limply down over her face. Mrs. Anderson says, “Lizbeth please come over to my desk for a moment I have some school supplies and textbooks for you.”

Lizbeth shuffles over to Mrs. Anderson’s desk keeping her head low. “I would like to introduce you to the class since you are new here. Lizbeth quietly shakes her head back and forth. But Mrs. Anderson isn’t looking at her at that moment and doesn’t realize how uncomfortable Lizbeth is when attention is on her. “Class, please quiet down for a moment I would like to introduce a new student to you. This is Lizbeth Hess her family just moved to our town recently and she doesn’t know anyone here. I would like you to offer Lizbeth a warm welcome.”

Burning House

“Lizbeth, would you like to introduce yourself to the class and tell us a little bit about yourself?”

Lizbeth shakes her head more vehemently. But Mrs. Anderson isn’t looking at her she’s reprimanding Joey Lombardi. He was imitating how Lizbeth was standing with her head down and shaking her head no. All the kids are laughing at him but Lizbeth thinks that they are laughing at her and tears start running down her face onto the linoleum floor. She doesn’t say a word.

“Well, I guess Lizbeth is feeling a little shy today so I’ll introduce her. Lizbeth’s family just moved to our town recently as I mentioned a moment ago. Unfortunately, there was a fire at Lizbeth’s old house and her family lost everything. Lizbeth suffered some burns before she was able to escape the fire in her house. Fortunately Mr. Goodwin our mayor found out about Lizbeth’s family’s house burning down and offered to let them live in one of the houses he rents out. So now she’s going to attend our school. How about everyone giving Lizbeth a warm welcome by clapping.”

The kids all looked at Lizbeth and then at each other and a couple of kids start to clap and then the rest follow. Lizbeth doesn’t look up. If anything it looks as if she’s shrinking right before their eyes.

That is when Mrs. Anderson finally realizes that Lizbeth is very uncomfortable standing in front of the class and being the center of attention. And as she looks at Elizabeth she realizes that Elizabeth is wearing a dress that is much too small for her and her shoes are too big. And to make things worse she realizes that Lizbeth’s burns must be extremely painful. She realizes she has made an error in judgment by telling the class about Elizabeth while she was standing in front of the class.

Mrs. Anderson looks across the class and calls out, “Dolores Rafferty could you come up to my desk for a moment?”

Dolores looks at Mrs. Anderson and wonders what she could have done wrong. She jumps up from her chair nearly knocking it over. All the kids start laughing. And Dolores all but runs up to the teacher’s desk. “Yes, Mrs. Anderson. Did I do something wrong?” Mrs. Anderson leans down and says in a low tone so no one else can hear her, “What? No of course not Dolores. But I was wondering if you be so kind as to take Lizbeth back to her desk and if for the next week you would be so kind as to show Lizbeth around the school and introduce her to some of the other children. Just until she feels more at ease in her new surroundings?”

“What? Sure I can do that. I remember how lonely I felt when my family moved here from New Jersey and I didn’t know anyone. I can’t imagine how scared she must be because she lost her house and all her stuff.”

Mrs. Anderson looks over at Dolores and wonders how this young girl is so perceptive and she wishes she had done the same. “Thank you, Dolores. I’m sure you will be a good friend to her.”

Dolores walks over to Lizbeth and takes her hand and whispers,” Lizbeth my name is Dolores and I’ll show you where you are going to sit, and for the rest of the week if you would like you can walk with me until you get to know the school and your way around.”

Lizbeth slowly lifts her face up and looks at Dolores and quietly says, OK.” And then she takes Dolores’ hand in hers, and Dolores leads her to her new desk which just so happens to be next to hers. Lizbeth sits down and lifts up the desktop and sees that her school books are inside and there are pens and pencils, a ruler, and school books in there as well.

Mrs. Anderson says, “alright class please take out your history books and open up to page 127. And Martin will you read the first page to the class please?”

Martin takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. And opens up his history book to page 127 and begins to read in a monotonous voice. “Martin, could you please put some feeling into your reading so that the whole class doesn’t fall asleep while you are reading?”

Everyone laughs including Martin and even Lizbeth has a little smile on her face. The rest of the morning passes quickly and the lunch bell rings and Mrs. Anderson says,” alright class please put your books away and take out your lunches. Aisle one please start getting in line to go to lunch and so on. Please do not push or shove anyone and then proceed quietly to the lunchroom. When you get to the lunchroom please quietly take your seats. Keep all the talking at your lunch tables to a low roar. After lunch take it easy in the play yard. I don’t want anyone to get injured. I’ll see you back here at 12:30 PM on the dot. Understood?:

Everyone said in unison,” yes Mrs. Anderson. Except for Joel the class clown. After everyone says, “yes Mrs. Anderson, in a high squeaky voice, “Yes indeedy.” He likes to say something different every time the class was dismissed for lunch. The class always started laughing and didn’t stop laughing until they arrived outside the lunchroom and then quieted down. As if they hadn’t been making a racket the whole time. Mrs. Anderson never reacts to her class’s shenanigans as she thought it was better to finish the morning on a high note and it was harmless. Some of the other teachers didn’t agree with her. But no one had the nerve to tell her that to her face. Because Mrs. Anderson could be quite fierce when provoked.

Everyone sat down quietly in the lunchroom and begin eating their lunch. Some of the students trade lunches because their mothers pack the same lunch for them every day. And some of the kids bought their lunch. Lizbeth didn’t have a lunch bag with her and she didn’t have any money in her lunch account yet.

Dolores says,” Lizbeth would you please eat one half of my lunch for me? My mother always packs too much for me to eat. And she gets mad if I don’t eat it. It’s only a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and she gave me a huge piece of her chocolate cake and I can’t eat all of it. What do you say?”

Lizbeth looks at Dolores and says quietly,” peanut butter and jelly and chocolate cake are my favorite.”

“That’s great Lizbeth, you’re saving my life. Otherwise, my mother would be ranting and raving about me eating like a bird again.”

Lizbeth and Dolores eat quietly until three girls come over to the table and say, “Dolores we heard that there’s a new girl at your table. So we came over to meet her. Dolores said,” oh yes, this is Lizbeth she just moved to town recently and she doesn’t know anybody around here. So I’m showing her around. Lizbeth this is Marty, Kathy and the string bean is Anne Marie.”

The three smiling girls take a look at Lizbeth and their expressions change from a smile to a shocked look. Anne Marie says, “Hi Lizbeth it’s so nice to meet you. It’s so great getting a new kid here. We have all been going to school together since first grade. So now we can hear some new stories. Where are you from?”

“I lived in the next town over, Lenola.”

“Oh, how come you moved here?”

Lizbeth looks down at the table and doesn’t say anything right away. “Then she mumbles that “we had a fire in our house and couldn’t live there anymore. The three girls look at her and then at each other. “Anne Marie says, “oh that’s terrible did you lose all your clothes and stuff?”

Dolores gives Anne Marie a look that meant shut up. Lizbeth puts her head down again. And says in a low tone,” yes, everything.”

Marty, Kathy, and Anne Marie look at each other, and then Marty says, “Hey you look like you wear a size smaller than I do, would you like to come over to my house today after school and see if you could take some of the clothes off my hands that don’t fit me. You would be doing me a favor because my mother has been nagging me to clean out my closets and dresser of clothes that are too small. What do you say, Lizbeth?”

Ann Marie and Kathy and Dolores say, “Hey I was just about to say that too. How about it?”

Lizbeth looks at the four girls and gives them a big smile, “really, I would love to help you out and besides most of the clothes that Mr. Goodwin gave me are way too small or way too big.”

“Great, let’s do it. You can come to my house first, and then Marty and Kathy and Dolores’ house. You know what I just noticed Lizbeth you have beautiful blond hair. I always wanted blond hair but mine is just boring brown.”

Lizbeth looks at the four girls and they look back at her and what they see isn’t a girl who’s burned but a girl who needed friends and they were the lucky ones.

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MARIE’S RECIPES

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It’s almost unbearably hot in the kitchen, even though all the windows in the kitchen are wide open. And Marie’s new summer curtains are pushed aside. If it wasn’t for the ceiling fan that Harry installed a couple of years ago Marie thinks she would probably pass out or have expired by now. Summer in New Jersey is not only hot but unbelievably humid. You know how people say, “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.” Well, it’s both.

Mom sitting at the kitchen table,

Marie isn’t one to complain. In fact, she never complains. She learned that complaining is an unwelcome trait when she was growing up as the only daughter in a house filled with older brothers and a sick mother.

She’s been bent over the ironing board for the past several hours but thank god she’s finally finished that tedious task. She had a large family with six children. All grown and left home save for the youngest two, who are twins in the fifth grade. And even though there are only four people living in the house now, there’s still plenty of ironing to do. Harry is fussy about how his clothes look. Of course, she never mentions to anyone how much she hates ironing, especially Harry, never has, never will.

Marie notices a movement out the kitchen’s side window. She tilts her head to get a better view. It’s Mrs. Rice, her next-door neighbor. She has her rotary push mower out and is energetically pushing the mower in crooked rows from one side of her front yard to another. It isn’t unusual for her to cut the grass on the most inhospitable day. Although she usually chooses a day when it’s pouring down rain. Mrs. Rice is a widow with one son that lives at home and three married daughters.

Marie would never admit it out loud, but she really doesn’t like Mrs. Rice at all. The woman just rubs her the wrong way. She made a habit of saying hurtful things to Marie, and she goes out of her way to talk to Harry. Whenever Mrs. Rice talks to her, Marie nods and keeps walking or ignores her altogether. Marie is friendly and thoughtful to people but she cannot bring herself to even look at the woman for any length of time.

The final straw that broke the camel’s back happened when Mrs. Rice came over to the side door and hammered on it with her closed fist. Marie looks out the curtain and sees Mrs. Rice. She reluctantly opens the door and she can tell by the look on Mrs. Rice’s face that she’s fit to be tied. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I just had my front steps painted red and “someone” came over and took some of the paint and the paintbrush and painted nasty words on my sidewalk. And I think it was your daughter, Susan. She will have to clean it up.”

“What?” Susan would never do such a thing, and she doesn’t know any bad words. She’s only ten years old.” And with that, my mother slammed the side door in Mrs. Rice’s face. If it was possible Marie thought she actually hates Mrs. Rice. But she knows that’s wrong and tries not to think about it again.

It’s Friday afternoon and it’s Marie’s custom to make a cake for Sunday afternoon. Today she decides to make an Applesauce Cake. She takes out all the ingredients, a measuring spoon and a measuring cup, and a spatula. And she opens the cabinet and pulls up the mixer. She just loves how Harry attached the mixer inside the cabinet and all she had to do is pull it up and lock it into place.

She began adding the ingredients one by one.

1 1/3 cup flour

1 13 cup sugar

¼ tsp. Baking powder

1 tsp. Salt

½ tsp. Cinnamon

¼ tsp cloves

¼ tsp. Allspice

w/3 cup shortening

1/3 cup water

1 cup unsweetened applesauce

1 large egg (beaten)

1/3 cup chopped nuts

2/3 cup chopped raisins.

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease rectangular pan well and dust with flour. Sift dry ingredients into a bowl. Add shortening, water, and applesauce. Beat 2 min. Scrape sides of bowl constantly. Stir in nuts and raisins. Pour in prepared pan, bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

Baking is one of Marie’s favorite tasks. Rarely does anyone say thank you for cleaning the house and washing my clothes, but everyone loves her cakes, cookies, and pies? She’s proud of her baking skills. Although she rarely eats cake, she does love her Peppermint Patties.

When the twins come home from school, they sit down and she gives them each a glass of milk and some cookies. They love to dunk the cookies in cold milk. Marie is still bent over the ironing board making her way through the wrinkled clothing. Marie doesn’t have a dryer. She still hangs all her clothes on a clothesline out in the backyard. If it is raining or too cold outside, she hangs them on clotheslines in the basement. This is why they are wrinkled. If she doesn’t have time to iron all the clothing in one afternoon, Marie rolls up the clothes and puts them in the back of the refrigerator, until the next day.

Susan sits down and starts eating her cookies and dipping them in the cold milk. Susan’s twin sister says she will eat her cookie on the way to her friend’s house. “Alright, but go up and change into your play clothes before you go, and be home for dinner at 5:00. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t be. I’ll see you later.”

“Be careful riding your bike in the street.”

“Susan, so how was school today?”

“Mr. Mc Elliot was teaching us some words in French today. Also, he told me that he knows my brother Harry and that he used to work with him at the Post Office. He thinks he is one of the smartest people he ever knew.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. That was a long time ago.”

“Did anything else happen in school today, Susan?”

“Well, I was showing Mr. Mc Elliot some of my drawings that I made. Remember I drew all those pictures on the stiff paper Daddy gave me. Well, all the kids gathered around him to look at the drawings and were handing them to each other to look at. And I ask for them back. And they didn’t give them to me right away and I got mad.”

“Were you afraid you wouldn’t get them back?”

“No, I got mad because they were looking at my drawings but didn’t pay any attention to me, and I made the drawings.”

“Oh, you felt ignored. What kind of drawings were they?”

“Well, one of them was a drawing of a shooting star and the star had a face and a holster and was shooting a gun.”

“Oh, that was a clever idea, Susan. Why don’t you show them to me?”

“Mr. McElliot still has them, he said he’ll give them back tomorrow.”

“I’m sure he will Susan.”

“OK, Mom.”

“Why don’t you get change and go out and play for a while, I have to start dinner.”

“What are we having, Mom?”

“Your favorite, Susan, beef stew.”

“Great, Mom, I’ll be home on time.”

I go to my room and change my clothes and throw my uniform on my bed. I pull my play clothes out of the drawer and put them on. I grab my sneakers and shove my feet into them without untying the shoelaces.

I run down the steps two at a time.  Susan is about to run out the door and she says, “what kind of cake did you make, Mom?”

“Applesauce Cake, Susan, one of your favorites.”

“Oh, boy can I have some now?”

“No, you already had cookies, that’s for Sunday after dinner. It’s the dessert you know that.”

“OK, I’ll be home at five Mom.”

Marie has finished ironing for the day, so she rolls up any unfinished ironing and puts it in the back of the refrigerator on the second shelf under the milk and eggs. She goes over to the counter and pours herself a cup of hot coffee from the percolator and adds cream and three sugars. Marie doesn’t have a big appetite but she does love her sweets including sugar.

After Marie finishes her coffee, she washes the coffee cup and dries it, and puts it away. She decides she has time to wash the kitchen floor. So, she gets out the bucket and fills it with warm water and floor cleaner. First, she puts all the chairs upside down on the kitchen table and then sweeps the floor with the broom and dustbin. Then she washes the floor on her hands and knees from the front window all the way up the kitchen counters. She takes the bucket into the bathroom and dumps the dirty water down the toilet and flushes it.

Marie goes down to the shelf in the cellarway and gets out some of the newspaper.

She lays the newspaper on the kitchen floor. Because she knows one of the kids and some of their friends might show up and walk all over her clean floor looking for a snack.

It has been a long day, and Marie goes into her bedroom and takes off her shoes, and sits in her chair. This is really the first time she’s sat down all day. Marie wakes up at six o’clock sharp and goes to Mass every day, she’s never missed a single day. She belongs to the Altar and Rosary Society at the church and she attends Mass with them.

But now it is her time to relax. As she sits down in her rocker, she pulls her rosary out of her pocket and starts saying her prayers. It’s called “saying the Rosary.” Marie finds this ritual comforting. Sometimes she says some extra prayers from her prayer book. She prayers for all her children, the grown ones that have children of their own, and the two she still has at home. As she gets to the end of her prayers she starts to nod off. It has been a long day.

Marie wakes up with a start and looks at her clock it is four O’clock and she has to check on the Irish Stew she has on the stove and make the crust for the top and then put it in the oven. Luckily, Marie woke up just as the cake was finished baking and it didn’t burn. She can smell the wonderful smell of apples from the applesauce cake.

Marie rises from the rocking chair. It isn’t as easy to get up as it used to be. She puts her rosaries away and walks into the kitchen. The timer has just gone off on the cake that was in the oven and Marie gets her potholders and takes it out of the oven and puts it on the hot plate on the kitchen counter to cool off.

Then she walks over to the counter and gets the ingredients out to make the crust for the stew she has been cooking all day on the stove.

Irish Stew is usually made with lamb, but Harry doesn’t like lamb. So, Marie always makes it with beef.

The Beef Stew Recipe:

1/4 cup vegetable oil

1 1/4 pounds stew beef, cut into 1-inch pieces

6 large garlic cloves, minced

8 cups beef stock or canned beef broth1 tablespoon sugar

1 tablespoon dried thyme

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

2 bay leaves

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter

1 large onion, chopped

2 cups 1/2-inch pieces peeled carrots

2 tablespoons chopped fresh parley

1 can of small potatoes (already peeled)

Preparation

Heat oil in a heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Keep the burner on low. Add beef and sauté until brown on all sides, about 5 minutes. And sauté 1 minute. Add beef stock, sugar, thyme, Worcestershire sauce, and bay leaves. Stir to combine. Bring mixture to boil. Reduce heat to medium-low, then cover and simmer for 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, melt butter in another large pot over medium heat. Add potatoes, onion, and carrots. Sauté vegetables until golden, about 20 minutes. Add vegetables to beef stew. Simmer uncovered until vegetables and beef are very tender, about 40 minutes. Discard bay leaves. Tilt pan and spoon off fat.

Recipe for the Stew Crust  

And while the stew is simmering Marie makes the crust for the top of the stew.

1¼ cups all-purpose flour plus more for dusting your work surface

¼ tsp salt

6 tbsp unsalted butter and cut into 1/2 “cubes

2 tbsp chilled shortening and cut into ½ cubes

5 tbsp ice water

Using a dry ingredient measuring cup, add the flour to the mixer

Add the salt and then the chilled butter and shortening.

Cut the fat into the flour.  The butter should resemble small frozen peas.

Add the ice water, 1 tbsp at a time, just until a ball form.  Immediately stop mixing.

Remove the dough from the mixer bowl and using your thumbs, for a disc.

Enclose the dough in plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for 1 hour.

On a lightly floured counter/surface, place the dough.  Try not to handle the dough too much, to prevent the butter pieces from melting.

You’ll need to roll out the dough to about 3 to 4 inches greater than the inside diameter of the pan.

Try and roll the dough out in a few ‘rolls’ as possible. Repeated rolling will overwork the dough, and will yield less flakey crust.

To transfer the dough to the pot, fold one half over, then fold over again into a quarter. Gently place onto the top of the large stew pot and then unfold the dough. Trim the edges with scissors.

Use your fingers to flute the edges.  Your pie dough is now ready for baking! And then bake in the oven until the crust is golden brown. Bake at 350 degrees for one hour or until the crust is golden brown.

Marie gets the large bowls, dishes and knives, and forks out for dinner and large spoons for the kids. At the last moment, she remembers to put salt and pepper on the table and bread. God, forbid she forgets the bread.

Marie sits down and has another cup of coffee; this is a quiet part of her day. She thinks about what she will cook tomorrow. About a half-hour goes by and Marie hears Susan coming in and slamming the front door behind her. “Susan what have I told you about slamming the door?”

“Sorry Mom, I always forget. Oh, Mom, I forgot to tell you earlier but after Mr. Mc Elliot looked at my drawings, he asks me what I wanted to be when I grew up.”
“What did you say, Susan?”
“I said I wanted to be an artist or a veterinarian.”

“Really, that’s wonderful.”

“Susan, could you take the newspapers off the floor for me. The floor is probably dry by now.”

“Sure, Mom. Can I watch Popeye after that?”

“Yes, after you pick up the newspaper.”

“OK, Mom.”

“I’ll call you for dinner, Susan.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love Irish Stew Mom. Thanks for making it. It’s my favorite.”

“I know it is Susan, that’s why I make it.”

At five o’clock sharp Susan’s twin sister arrives with a bang at the front door.”

Marie yells out, “Karen, I told you a million times not to slam the door.”

“Sorry, Mom. Is dinner ready? What are we having?”

“Irish Stew. Can you tell Susan that dinner is ready?”

Then she screams at the top of her lungs, Susie, dinner’s ready.”

“What did I tell you about yelling?”

“Sorry, Mom.”

And then the three of them have a delicious Irish Stew dinner. Harry is working the second shift this week, so he isn’t having dinner with them.

“That was great Mom,” said Susan and her sister in unison.

“Ok, why don’t you go do your homework.”

Susan says, do I have to do it now?”

“Yes, you do. If you get done before it’s dark you can go outside and play for a while.”

“OK, Mom.”

Marie starts clearing the table and washing the dishes, then she dries them and puts them away. She puts the leftover stew in a container on the counter to cool off before she stores it in the refrigerator. She wipes down all the countertops and the stove and the front of the oven.

She decides to read the newspaper in the living room, when Harry is home, she isn’t able to read the paper until he is finished with it. But for now, she can take all the time she wants to read it. Marie brings a cup of coffee to the dinner table and sits down. It always feels so good to get off her feet and relax. Marie reads the comics first as she sips her hot coffee, black with plenty of sugar. She takes a deep breath and relaxes.

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LESSON LEARNED

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It was 1969, my senior year in high school. I was seventeen but would turn eighteen in May. Everyone else was doing it, had been doing it since they were sixteen. But not me, the other girls in my class told me I was a baby, asked me what I was waiting for?  What was I waiting for?

As my birthday drew closer, I made the decision I would do it. I would learn how to drive. But

Father’s old car

who would teach me, who? Well, the most likely candidate was my father, since he was the only member of my family who owned a car. My mother never learned how to drive. In fact, she seldom went in the car, except to the doctors, or the food store, and she didn’t go often.

My father was not an easy person to talk to. He was prickly like a porcupine, and you never knew what would set him off. He was in one word a grouch! In fact, his nickname in our family was” The Old Bear.”

So, the Sunday morning before my eighteenth birthday, I decided it would be D-day. The day I would ask my father to teach me to drive.

My father made his feelings about women driving no secret. He didn’t think that they should drive, could drive, or needed to drive. Up until now my transportation included my feet, my bike, and the bus, in that order.

So, as I sat down at the breakfast table after Mass, I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. My father was engrossed in reading the Sunday paper. He did not encourage talking at meals.

Nor did he encourage conversation, or other points of view. I had asked my mother’s opinion about talking to my father about driving. She said, “well I don’t know Susie you know how your father feels about girls driving. But I guess it can’t hurt to ask.

So, I did. “Dad, would you teach me to drive? You know I’ll be graduating from high school this year, and I’ll need to drive back and forth to whatever job I get.”

“Susan, you don’t have a car, so why would you need to learn how to drive?”

“Well, I countered, I can go on the bus back and forth to work, until I save enough money to buy a car. Then I would need to learn how to drive and get my drivers’ license. And then I wouldn’t have to take the bus anymore. I hate taking the bus. “ I said this all in one breath.

This wasn’t the best argument because my father worked for PTC. That was the Philadelphia Transportation Company; in other words, the Philadelphia bus company. He had been a trolley driver first, and then he was the head dispatcher for over thirty years. In other words, his life was all about the bus.

“You know Susie, if you are able to save enough money to buy a car, then you have to get insurance, in case you get in a car accident, did you know that?”

I had a very vague idea about that, from talking to some of my friends at school. “Dad I will get a job now, and start saving so by the time I graduate, I will have enough money to buy a car.” I had no idea if this was possible, or even where to buy a car, or how much it would cost. Up until now, the biggest purchase I had made was a movie ticket.

Just then my mother said,” Harry teach her to drive; she’ll need to learn at some point, why not now, before she graduates?”

I stared at my mother.I couldn’t believe she spoke up to my father. It was really unheard of. He rarely asked or wanted her opinion or anyone else’s. My father looks from my mother to me, and then with a loud sigh, he said, “OK, OK next Saturday, we’ll give it a try.”

Saturday arrived, and I was filled with excitement and trepidation. As I was finishing breakfast my father said, “all right, Susan get in the car, we’re going over to the Sears parking lot at the Moorestown Mall, and you will practice.”

As we pulled into the parking lot, my father said,” whatever I tell you to do, do it, nothing else.” We switched places in the front seat. My father explained how to sit properly in the seat, how to check the position of the mirrors, the signals, the gas pedal, and, most importantly, the brake.

“Susan, we’re just going to go from point A to B. Then, you will depress the brake, when I tell you, show me which is the gas pedal, which is the brake.” I was nervous and started biting my nails.

Off we went back and forth, back and forth, for about fifteen minutes. “OK Susan, now I want you to start turning the wheel, you’re going to drive in a circle.” I started to do that, although I didn’t make a perfect circle.

My father started yelling, louder and louder, “slow down, slow down, you’re going too fast. The louder he yelled the more nervous I got. I forgot which pedal was which. He told me to stop and,  I hit the gas pedal hard by mistake. We started heading toward a little building, Sear’s Auto Parts.

My father’s yelling got me so flustered I smashed right into a pile of car tires next to the side entrance of the building. Which was lucky for us, because otherwise I would have hit the building itself.

I let go of the wheel, and the gas pedal, and that is when we stopped, and my father reached over and hit me on my arm as hard as he could. That was the end of the driving lessons.  Without looking directly at me, my father said, “Get out of the car Susan.”

I got out, I was pretty shaken up, between the yelling, crashing into the tires, and then getting smacked. I could only remember my father hitting one other time, so I knew he was really, really mad.

I thought he was just going to drive away and leave me, but he said, Get in the back!”

After that, I asked my sister Betty to teach me to drive. She said she would. Even though she was married and had four kids. She found the time to teach me and take me to get my driver’s license test. The day I passed the test, I told my dad. And he just shook his head and said, “just what the world needs another woman behind the wheel.”